Water suddenly sprayed on my wrist, and I nearly fell backward in response.
Rhett clamped a hand over the crack in the pipe while more water leaked between his fingers. “Panic later. Right now, hand me the silicone tape in my tool bag.”
I nodded erratically and ripped through the bag, tossing aside pliers and heavy tools until I found the roll of white tape he was nodding toward. Passing it over, I murmured, “You make this sound like a normal Thursday.”
Rhett gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “This was every summer for me since I can remember.”
For ten breathless minutes we worked in tandem—I held the light, attempted to locate tools, and pressed towels against the worst of the leaks while he wrapped the pipe in layer after layer of tape. The water slowed, then finally stopped, the spurts and trickles replaced by blessed silence.
Rhett sat back on his heels, soaked and streaked with grime. He wiped a hand across his face and muttered, “Temporary fix. You’ll need a new line put in.”
I sagged onto my haunches, relief flooding my chest. “I don’t even care. Right now, I could hug you.”
He raised a brow. “Don’t make it weird.” Then, he flexed his hands and rose to his feet. “You’ll have to close the shop, Georgie.”
My skin grew cold. The gaping holes in my drywall, coupled with the steady drip, drip, drip of the plants by my window and veritable ocean on my floor made something inside burst. I hated to show anyone this side of me. I hated that Rhett, of all people, was watching me unravel into a blubbering mess.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying. There’s about a thousand things on my mind, and I don’t know how I’m going to handle one more. It’s just… if anyone hears that I let Marigold’s get this bad, I—” Sniffling, I swallowed the ramblings and stood. Wherever that came from, I’d have to box it away. It was just so easy to come undone around him. “This isn’t your problem. Thank you—thank you for helping,” I finished weakly.
He followed suit, watching me as if I’d spontaneously grown a second head. “It’s not permanent. Just until the repairs are made.”
“That’s the thing, though. Repairs requiremoney. And, I don’t know if you can tell—” I motioned around us. “But I don’t have any of that. Most people don’t need a small business grant just to fix a broken awning and some loose floorboards.”
Thosepeople were good at operating their business. I, on the other hand, was the biggest failure on Main Street. Perhaps even the East Coast.
Rhett sucked in a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about that.”
“What?” I wiped two hands over my face, even though I couldn’t delineate between my tears and the pipe water.
“I can fix it.” He rubbed his jaw and appraised the pipe beside us that was mostly held together by white stripes of silicone. “I probably dinged it with my drywall saw. So, you shouldn’t have to pay for the repairs.”
“Youdingedit—” I paused and scanned the pipe. “—five times?”
Rhett shrugged. “What can I say? You hired a sketchy handyman.”
My eyes narrowed. He folded his arms and appeared to continue studying his work, occasionally peering up into the ceiling. Why would he help me? Did he pity me? My stomach turned as I searched for whatever semi-dry towels I could find and laid them across the marshland of a floor.
When I was done, I started for the mop in the closet, but stopped and frowned. “Why did you have me get buckets and pots to catch the water when you just needed tape?”
I watched in fascination as his shoulders grew rigid. He cleared his throat and appeared to tinker with the pipe.
“Because,” Rhett mumbled matter-of-factly, “I could tell that it would help if you had something to do. It’s hard to be worried when your hands are full.”
I stared at him, momentarily forgetting to find the mop. “How did you know that?”
Rhett finally looked over, expression unreadable. “Don’t make it weird again.”
My laugh came out watery, half a sob and half a snort. “You’re the weird one. Who says stuff like that?”
He ignored me, straightening to his full height. The hem of his shirt steadily dripped, pooling at his boots. Rhett picked up his gloves, turned them over in his hands, and muttered, “What are you gonna do while the shop’s closed?”
Right. Marigold’s had to close—I was officially out of options. No more staying open with the hope someone would finally wander inside. A fresh wave of nausea crashed over me. Missed income meant another missed bill, another notice in the mail, and another step closer to shuttering the shop for good. Iopened my mouth, but the thick lump in my throat made words impossible.
What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t hope anymore?
Rhett must have seen it in my face. He let out a long sigh, low and resigned. “Look. I’ll get it fixed as quickly as I can.”
“What about everything else?” I blinked at him. “All the booths for the Summer’s End Festival…”
