CHAPTER 1
DAMMIT, DALE.
MOLLY
"Iam a strong, independent woman!"
The bottom of my old, gross kitchen sink doesn't answer, but that's okay. The mantra's not to pump me up—I’ve never been so hyped as I am right now, wedged inside the musty cabinet with a pair of pliers in my hand. It's a declaration. A proclamation.
An affirmation!
The voice in my head is as cheery as my smile, but I shut it down so I can listen to the video playing on my phone.
Dale of Dale's Demos looks much more comfy than I am under the sink while he instructs me on how to replace the faucet hose. The man at the hardware shop handed me a repair kit said the only other thing I need is a pair of pliers. So I dug mine out of the brand new toolbox for their maiden voyage, their first adventure, their?—
"Now go ahead and shut off the water by turning the hot and cold handles clockwise."
Right, right.It takes considerable strength to get them going, but ultimately, I succeed.
"There should be either a threaded nut or a quick-connect clip under the faucet body. Use your pliers to loosen it?—"
Lips pursed, I clamp the nut with the pliers, muttering, "Lefty loosey," when I turn, already thinking about the next step, which is?—
A cold whoosh of water hits my face with a splat, and I sit up so fast, I whack my head on the pipe.
"And don't forget to drain the line before disconnecting!"
"Thanks for the tip, Dale," I groan, palm to my forehead as I slink out from the cabinet, reaching for a tea towel bearing the phraseMuch Ado About Muffinsto wipe my face with. I'm soaked from my hair to my collarbone, my normally bobbed, curly blonde hair hanging just past my shoulders.
"I bet I look like a wet cat."
Scout, my calico, meows at me from the counter in agreement.
"Be nice or you're next," I warn uselessly as I wipe my glasses, but I only manage to smear the water around. I find my way to the freezer and grab a bag of peas, pressing it to my forehead. Dale is well into installation of the hose, his voice echoing in the cabinet where I left him, the traitor. He only stops going on when my phone rings.
It's my parents, I just know it. It's like they have a sixth sense for something going wrong. That, or they're spying on me, which I wouldn't put past them.
"They're just worried about me," I tell Scout, who's judging me from her perch as I head for my phone. "Don't look at me like that."
When I answer, my parents' eager faces appear on the screen, immediately contracting in matching frowns.
"What happened?" Dad asks firmly, but not without care.
"I'm fine! I'm fine. Just conked my head when I was trying to fix something under the sink. Nothing a bag of frozen peas won't fix."
"You're soaked!" Mom informs me. "Was it a leak?"
"It was self-inflicted. Really, we should all be mad at Dale."
"Who?" They ask in unison, Mom curious, Dad suspicious.
I sigh, making my way to the bathroom. "Never mind. What are y'all up to?"
But Dad's shaking his head. "I still can't believe you bought that house without telling us."
"But then I wouldn't have it," I note.
"Exactly." His frown goes from chin to receding hairline.
