“The new shipment,” Eveline gasped, lunging toward the nearest box.
Emery followed suit, grabbing another box and lifting it to higher ground. “Where's the water shut-off valve?”
“Under the sink,” Eveline said, already splashing through the growing puddle toward the bathroom door. She yanked it open, revealing a fountain of water spraying from a pipe beneath the sink.
Emery darted past her, dropping to her knees and reaching under the sink, frantically feeling for the valve as cold water soaked through her jeans and splashed her face. Her fingers finally found the metal handle and she twisted with all her might.
The spray diminished, then stopped completely, leaving only the sound of dripping water and their heavy breathing.
“Are you alright?” Eveline asked, pushing wet hair back from her face.
Emery looked up from her position on the floor, suddenly aware that she was completely drenched, kneeling in a puddle of water, with Eveline standing over her equally soaked. Eveline’s white blouse had gone nearly transparent, clinging to her in a way that made Emery's mouth go dry despite all the water surrounding them.
“I'm fine,” she managed. “The books?”
“Let's check,” Eveline said, offering a hand to help Emery up.
Their fingers clasped, slippery with water, and Emery allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She promptly slipped on thewet tile and crashed directly into Eveline, sending them both stumbling backward into the hallway.
“Sorry!” Emery gasped, mortified. “I'm so—”
“Clumsy, yes, I know,” Eveline said, but there was no bite to her words, only a strange breathlessness as she steadied them both, her hands on Emery's shoulders.
They remained like that for a heartbeat too long before Eveline stepped away, turning her attention to the boxes. “We need to move all of these,” she said. “And get towels. Many towels.”
For the next hour, they worked side by side, rescuing books, mopping up water, and assessing the damage. Zara had been dispatched to call the plumber. “Not Chapman this time,” Eveline had said. “Anyone but him.” And Emery and Eveline were left to deal with the aftermath.
By the time they'd moved the last box to safety, both women were exhausted. Emery sank down onto the floor, her back against a dry section of wall, surrounded by soggy cardboard and displaced books.
Eveline surprised her by sitting down beside her, their shoulders almost touching. Her usually immaculate hair had dried in wayward waves, and her makeup had smudged slightly beneath her eyes. Emery thought she'd never looked more beautiful.
“What a mess,” Eveline sighed.
“At least we saved most of the books,” said Emery.
“True. Although I think my Austen collection may never recover.” Eveline held up a waterlogged copy ofEmma, its pages warped and stuck together.
“Poor Emma,” Emery said solemnly. “She would have hated being caught in such an undignified situation.”
Eveline's mouth twitched. “Unlike Mr. Woodhouse, who would have approved of the increased humidity. Good for the constitution.”
Emery stared at her for a second before bursting into laughter. “Did you just make a Jane Austen joke?”
“I believe I did,” Eveline said.
Maybe it was because the situation was so absurd, or maybe it was the relief of averting complete disaster, but suddenly they were both laughing hysterically, shoulders shaking, tears mingling with the remaining water on their faces.
“Your face when that pipe sprayed you,” Eveline gasped between giggles.
“Your expression when I slipped,” Emery countered, clutching her sides.
They laughed until they were breathless, until the laughter itself became a kind of release, washing away the tension of the day as thoroughly as the water had soaked them.
When they finally quieted, they remained sitting side by side, closer now, their damp shoulders definitely touching.
“I'm starving,” Emery said eventually.
“Me too,” Eveline said. “Nothing works up an appetite quite like emergency plumbing.”
