“Here’s what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to go upstairs and take a shower. There are plenty of clean towels in the cabinet. Any that are in there, I haven’t touched. I’ll go to your house this afternoon, meet the plumber, and let you know what happens. If they need to talk to you, then we’ll call. As for Nick, well, I don’t have any great ideas right now, but I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
I’m so relieved that I let my head fall to Chase’s shoulder—well, more like his chest since my head doesn’t reach all the way to his shoulder. Running this business is my life’s passion, but sometimes it’s so lonely. Yeah, I have Russ, but he’s almost a thousand miles away. There are others in town, like Kyler, but it’s not the same. Having someone to lean on—literally—is a nice change.
“Thank you. I’m sorry. Just, thank you.”
“It’s no problem. Really. You might have to lend me your car to drive to your place, though. Actually, I don’t know where you live. If it’s close enough, I can walk.”
“No, you can take my car. Then you won’t overheat.” Especially important considering he can’t get a drink of water at my place. The last thing I need is a call that he passed out on my front lawn. However, that might replace the gossip about me. At least for a few weeks.
“Go, take a shower. You’ll feel better.” I can only hope that his urgency has nothing to do with my odor and everything to do with the store opening in an hour.
At the door to the backroom, I turn around and look at Chase. He’s still the old version of himself that I remember from high school, but also so much more. That Chase never would’ve stopped to think about someone else’s needs for more than two minutes. Not that he wasn’t kind and caring, but he was also pretty self-absorbed. Like every teenager. “Hey, Chase?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s really nice having you here.”
“It’s nice to be here.”
CHASE
“I’ve got good news and bad news. What do you want first?”
It’s a trick question. There’s never good news when it comes to home maintenance. Only bad news couched as good news so that they can pretend there’s an upside. I heard him say, “Oh shit,when he entered the basement. That has to put this into at least four-digit territory. Maybe five.
“Give me the bad news first.”
“It looks like a lot of the pipes here are original to the house. Which would be fine, but they haven’t been maintained. They’ve corroded, and some of the biggest ones have completely disintegrated. Probably been leaking for some time, given the water damage. You’re going to have to replace most of the plumbing. Plus, I’d suggest tearing up the damaged flooring and redoing it. Make sure there’s no mold, too. That kind of thing can really hurt the overall structural integrity in the long term.”
“You said there was good news?” Right now, all I can see is a lot of time and money. Nix isn’t going to be happy.
“Yeah, it should only take me about a week to get the water back on. It won’t be finished, but at least the house will be habitable.”
Somehow, I doubt Nix will see that as good news. He hasn’t indicated that he expects not to come back here tonight. “Thanks. I’ll let the owner know. Do you have an estimate I can give him?”
The man forks over a sheet of paper that includes a lot more zeros than I expected. Yeah, Nix might actually explode when he sees all this.
After I wrap up with the plumber, I make my way back to Tannenbaum Books. The drive is short—honestly, every drive around here is short—and I park his car in the back. For a few minutes, I don’t move. I don’t feel like being the bearer of bad news, but I guess that’s my job today.
And you know what makes everything better?Carbs.
I walk a few blocks to The Brew House to pick up a couple of cinnamon buns. Maybe the sweetness will lull Nix into a sense of calm. It’s unlikely, but worth a try.
“What can I get you?”
“Two of the bitter-sweet cinnamon rolls.” They look absolutely decadent. The kind of thing I probably wouldn’t condone eating, but desperate times call for cream cheese frosting. “And a maple latte.” I don’t know what it is about Vermonters, but they put maple syrup in absolutely everything. No matter what store I’m in, there’s always maple syrup. Candy, chocolate, cookies, and pretty much any item imaginable. I’m used to it being a holiday specialty for the fall. Apparently, it’s a year-round thing up here.
I’m hoping that means Nix will be excited to get his maple fill for the afternoon.
Though, what if he doesn’t like maple? Like me, he grew up with the imitation stuff on pancakes. “Hey, do you know Nix? The guy who owns the bookstore?”
“Oh, Nix. He’s a great guy. I miss his Aunt May something fierce. She really was a staple of this town.”
“You don’t happen to know what kind of coffee he drinks, do you? I’m trying to bring him a treat, but I’m not sure if the maple latte is the right pick.”
The guy eyes me for way too long. Clearly, I’ve made some sort of grave error. The question is whether this guy plans to tell me about it or simply glare at me until I figure it out.
“If it’s for Nix, I’d get the Firehouse cold brew. That’s what he usually gets in the afternoon.”
