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“I’m getting married!”
“I see that. Oh, Laurie, it’s a beautiful ring.”
“Isn’t it? I can’t stop looking at it. I love it. I just love it. I thought you’d never see it.”
“I was blinded by self-pity and leaky pipes. When did this happen?”
“Tyler asked me last night. He’s been acting so weird the last week or so, I was worried he wanted to break up.”
“Laurie, he’s crazy about you. Obviously,” she added turning Laurie’s hand to study the ring from another angle.
“Yeah, but he’d just been so weird. Then last night he’s like so super serious and he said we needed to take a walk in the park. I didn’t know what was up.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Clare set the coffee aside to free her arms for the hug. “You had no idea?”
“Zero. I mean, we’ve been together for two years now, and we’ve sort of poked around the edges of maybe. But I didn’t see it coming.” Her brown eyes glistened with happy tears. “Clare, he actually got down on one knee, right there in the bandstand at Shafer Park.”
“Seriously? Aw, Laurie.”
“I know! Who’d have thought? I love him so much, and I was going to be so mad at him for breaking up with me. And now, look!” She waved her hand around again. “We’re getting married. I almost burst waiting for you to get in so I could show you.”
“Let me see it again.”
Thrilled to oblige, Laurie held out her hand. “He picked it out himself.”
“It’s just beautiful. It’s just perfect. When are you—”
The door jangled as two customers came in. “We’ll talk more later,” Clare told her.
It took another half hour before she could get upstairs, organize, and settle herself. Once she’d returned the calls, she remembered the leak and hurried down to check it out.
She was crouched on the restroom floor, a bucket under the slow drip, when Avery came in.
“I’ve sent you a zillion texts this morning.”
“Dentist, trauma, engagement, work. And now plumbing. God, what a day, and it’s not even noon.”
“Laurie told me about her and Tyler—with sparkly rainbows shooting out of her eyes. And it’s nearly one.”
“It can’t be.”
“It is, and I’ve only got a minute. Hope’s here.”
“What? When?”
“She got here about eleven, which you’d know if you checked your phone. A couple of the guys from the inn crew carried up the furniture she brought with her. She’s here!”
“Does she need any help with the rest of her things?”
“I haven’t really had a chance to talk with her yet. I’m going to try to go over, help her set up, unpack and all that after the lunch rush. Can you come over?”
“I . . .” Already one in the afternoon. “Let me see if Mazie can watch the kids after school for a while.”
“If she can’t, I bet Beckett would. Unless you’re still having your lovers’ spat.”
“Lovers’ spat?”
“That’s the word I got. You were in my place a couple nights ago, arguing.”
“We were not arguing. For God’s sake.” Even though he was just wrong. “But I’m not asking Beckett to watch the kids after he’s worked all day.”
“Whatever. Try to make it, even if you can’t stay long. She’s a stranger in a strange land, after all.”
“I’ll work something out.”
“Cool.” Avery glanced toward the drip plopping musically in the bucket. “You ought to have Beckett fix that leak.”
Clare scowled up at Avery, whose hair edged closer to maroon now with thick gold streaks. “What is he, my man of all work?”
“Hey, a nice benefit of sleeping with a handyman who seems to like your kids is using him when you need him. I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you at Hope’s apartment.”
She wasn’t going to use Beckett. She’d handled everything that came along for six years without a man, handy or otherwise. Just because she’d started seeing Beckett didn’t mean she’d suddenly become incompetent.
Annoyed, she dashed back upstairs, where she kept a basic tool kit. She just needed a wrench, just needed to tighten the pipe joint. Anybody could do that.
“I’m going to take care of the leak,” she told Laurie when she came down again. “If anyone calls for me, just take a message. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Are you sure? I could call over. They’d send one of the men from the inn.”
“I’m getting you your own tool kit for an engagement present.”
“I’d rather have a sexy nightie.”
“Tool kit.” She shook the one she carried. “Men aren’t always around, you know. Women have to know how to handle basic household repairs.”
“If you say so.”
“And I do.”
Now more determined than ever, Clare marched to the restroom. She sat on the floor, opened the tool kit. She’d dealt with plumbing issues before—with squeaky doors, drawers that stuck. She’d dealt with the epitome of parental frustration. Toys labeled some assembly required. When she’d been married, she’d had to learn to do what needed doing as she’d so often been on her own. And since, she’d continued to learn.
She could hardly afford to call a plumber every time something dripped. She’d be damned if she called her father when the gutters were clogged, or her lawn mower started sputtering—which it was—or some other minor annoyance cropped up.
She could certainly fix a little drip without issuing a help wanted bulletin. She picked up a wrench and got to work.
Within ten frustrating minutes the little drip became a slow but steady stream of water.
But that was okay, that was all right. She knew where she’d gone wrong. All she had to do was—
“Have you got a license for that?”
Flushed and struggling not to be furious, she looked over at Beckett. “I’ve nearly got it.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I’ve nearly got it,” she repeated.
He just hunkered down, took the wrench out of her hand. “Looks like you need a washer. I probably have something that’ll fit it out in the truck. I’ll need to turn the water off for a few minutes.”
“I know how to turn the water off.”
“Okay, why don’t you go do that while I get the washer?”
He straightened, drew her to her feet.
He hadn’t shaved that morning, she noted, plus his hair needed trimming. And he smelled of sawdust. Which all added up, in her mind, to smug, let me handle that for you, little lady, ma
le.
“Did Laurie call you?”
“No. Why?”
Clare just shook her head and went out to turn off the water.
So it needed a washer, she thought as she watched him quickly, competently make the repair. She’d have figured it out—and she knew where to buy a stupid washer for the stupid pipe.
“That should do it. Let me turn the water back on and—”
“I’ll turn it on.”
He only lifted his brows when she swung around and walked out.
He ran the water in the sink, checked the pipes, packed up her tools. “That’ll cost ya.” In a casual move, he tipped up her chin, kissed her. “Paid in full. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I was fixingit myself.”
He searched her face, deep blue eyes puzzled and patient. “Are you pissed at me or the pipe?”
“I’m—” She made herself stop short of the fresh rant building in her throat. It was hardly Beckett’s fault. “It’s been a crappy day, that’s all. I appreciate the help.”
“Anytime. Speaking of which, I can hang with the boys after school so you can give Hope a hand settling in.”
“Is this place bugged?” she demanded. “Is there a town intercom running from here to the inn?”
“Not that I know of, but I saw Avery when I went over to get a panini for lunch.”
“And I told her I was going to call Mazie.”
“So I have to ask again if you’re pissed at me.”
“No, why would I be?” But she ground the words out because she was, for no good reason she could name. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re on call for repairs, child care, and whatever else might come up. I know how to work these things out. I’ve been working these things out for years.”
“No question about that.” He spoke coolly, watching her face. “Is there any
