“You said it would be quick…”
“Yeah, well, I took a better look. It’s worse than I thought. The bathtub leak is only the tip of the iceberg. Honestly, you should be glad it happened, because it helped me spot another pipe that was about to burst.”
Of course.
Because my life can’t simply be catastrophic.
It has to be epically catastrophic.
“So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Not my problem, miss. I fix houses. I don’t house people.”
He shrugs with an indifference that makes me want to throw something at his face.
I should probably work on that impulse, because throwing things at people has never solved anything.
I take a deep breath.
Count to five.
Then to ten.
Then abandon the idea of staying calm altogether.
“All right. Start the repairs as soon as possible.”
“Earliest I can do is next Monday. Got other jobs before yours.”
“Next Monday?” I choke out.
“That or in a month. Your call.”
I clench my jaw so hard I wonder whether I’ll need to see my dentist very soon.
“Monday will be fine,” I mutter at last.
He leaves with the same slowness he arrived with, leaving me alone in the middle of my devastated living room, my buckets lined up like soldiers in a pathetic army.
I stare at my phone as though it might magically provide a solution, but of course, nothing happens.
I let out a sigh and grab my parka from the entryway.
If I can’t solve my own problems, I can at least deal with my patients’.
I have a feeling today is going to be very long.
The bakery smells amazing.
That’s undeniable.
The room above the bakery, however, feels like a sauna scented with yeast and accompanied by a heavy metal soundtrack.
“There you go,” Mr. McKenzie says while showing me around what can only be described as a closet. “Cozy, isn’t it?”
“Cozy” is a generous euphemism for tiny, suffocating, and probably illegal.
The single bed is shoved against the wall.
