Page 114 of Summer Love

“We call a plumber.”

“At this hour?”

Everyone turns to Miles, who throws up his hands.

“I’m a bartender! Marine biologist, at a stretch. Not a plumber.”

“You can at least help bail,” I shoot back.

“That I can do.”

He grabs a dish towel. Chiara mops up with paper towels, Maya and I with mops.

Sierra watches the puddle spread, worried.

“We need to shut off the water,” I say. “Where’s the valve?”

“No idea…” she sighs.

Chiara’s paper towels are useless. The mops are barely better. We wring them out over the bucket again and again, but it keeps getting worse.

“Call Noah,” I say. “He’ll know what to do.”

Sierra’s fingers tighten on the mop.

“Are you two fighting?” Chiara asks, surprised.

Sierra shakes her head.

“No, it’s not that. But we don’t really talk anymore.”

“I don’t think Noah really talks to anyone anymore,” I say gently.

“Call him,” Ruby says from her chair. “The water doesn’t care about your feelings.”

Sierra picks up her phone. Her finger hovers over the screen. Finally she makes the call and puts it on speaker. After four rings, Noah’s gruff voice comes through.

“Yeah?”

Sierra clears her throat.

“Noah, sorry to bother you, but… there’s a leak at the bookstore, under the sink. It’s coming out pretty fast.”

Silence on the other end.

“On my way,” Noah finally says, then hangs up.

Sierra slips the phone into her pocket, not convinced he’ll actually come.

We keep mopping. Maya wrings out a mop in the bucket. Miles has rolled up his sleeves and holds his dish towel with a seriousness that’s unlike him.

Ten minutes pass.

The bookstore door opens.

Noah comes in wearing stained coveralls and olive-green Crocs. A toolbox in one hand, an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He crosses the bookstore without a word, sets the toolbox on the kitchenette counter, then kneels in the water in front of the sink.