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Plunged
Claire Wilder
Chapter 1
Winona
WANH! WANH! WANH! WANH!
“Hell’s Bells!” I cursed. I’d finally got my wrench fitted around an awkwardly positioned valve on the ancient boiler in front of me, and it was going to be a tricky feat to answer the call while not losing this valve again. But the siren sound was reserved for my friend Sarah, who also happened to be overseeing the renovation we were currently working on. It was the biggest contract my all-woman plumbing outfit, Heartbreaker Plumbing, had ever landed.
WANH! WANH! WANH!
“Are you gonna get that, Winona?” Cher called from the other side of the dimly lit, cavernous boiler room. My second-in-command was currently occupied with a pipe on the far side of the room, otherwise I’d holler at her to grab the phone.
“Yes, b’y!”
Even through the blaring alarm I could hear Cher laugh. My Newfieisms—words and phrases from Newfoundland, Canada, where I grew up speaking a very particular type of English—tended to grow more pronounced the more stressed I was. Actually, who was I kidding—they came out all the damn time. But I didn’t mind. Aside from a few things of Mama’s, they were the only good reminders I had of home.
WANH WANH WANH
“I’m comin’, Jaysus!” I blew a strand of hair off my forehead that had escaped from my ponytail. I wished, not for the first time, that I had the nerve to wear my hair as closely cropped as Cher did. But I was rather fond of surprising people by not being anything like they assumed when they looked at me.
Cher snorted this time.
“This better be good, Sarah!” I said once I finally gave up on the wrench and picked up the call.
If it was anyone else, I might have been more professional. But Sarah had quickly become our friend here—us women had to stick together on these testosterone-rich job sites.
“I have a job for you.”
“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it!”
“No, another job. Emergency, off-site.”
“I’m kinda busy doing the job you’re paying me for, darling,” I said, sitting up. It was strange that she’d ask me to do an external job right now.
“Well, Cassandra says you always get stuff done in half the time as anyone else.”
I knew my friend was buttering me up. But Cassandra Kelly, the CEO of the Rolling Hills, wasn’t wrong. There was a reason she had Heartbreaker Plumbing on standby for any issues their maintenance team couldn’t address and not the competition. I lived and breathed plumbing. I could pinpoint plumbing issues by ear long before my scope verified the problem. I was a bit tired of the grind mind you, and once this big reno was done, I was moving forward with my plans to start a local trades collective for women, where I’d work on encouraging more girls coming out of high school to join the trades; then training, recruitment, and education, and even policy change. I was planning on asking Sarah to join me, too, at least as a consultant.
But right now I was on the job. And Sarah knew that. “It’ll be a beautiful place, Winona. Up in the Hills.”
My stomach jolted. She’d thought that would encourage me—it only clinched it that I was a no. I hated that Richie-rich neighborhood. “I’m sorry Sarah. I could make a referral if you like?”
“Could you do it as a personal favor to me, Winona? The property owner”—her voice went muffled. “I’m not really supposed to say anything, but he’s Cassandra’s future brother in law, and I’d kind of like to play nice.”
I could hear the plea in her voice. Sarah was tough as nails when she was in front of a crew of guys. But with me and Cher—two of the only other women on the job site, she let her vulnerability show. Also, the job being for Cassandra changed things. She was probably with them right now, which would be why she hadn’t come down here to ask me in person.
Then I frowned. “Blake has family here? I thought he was from Seattle?”
“I think it’s temporary,” she whispered. “No one’s supposed to know he’s here.” Then she tsked, and I knew she wasn’t supposed to tell me that, either.
Sarah was new to her firm, and she’d confessed to me early on that this renovation was the first major multi-million dollar contract she’d overseen. She was perfectly competent, but the owner of her contracting firm had kind of thrown her to the wolves. I sighed. I knew what it was like to feel like you were being tested. I’d spent my whole professional life with men double checking my work, unconvinced a fully qualified plumber could do a good job if they lacked a penis.
“Okay,” I said finally. “For you.”
“Oh thank you, Winona! And please, don’t tell anyone whose place it is.”
