Chapter 4
THE PLUMBING STRIKES BACK
Heath
I’m dripping wet and in desperate need of a place to go scream for an hour, but I’m doing the adult thing instead and tracking Mabel down.
Doesn’t take long to locate her drawing in her sketchpad on the front porch of the Makepeace Cellars compound’s main house, an ornate Victorian mansion that sits in the west corner of the property just outside the little town of Foxwood in Sonoma Valley.
The house faces the fields of grapevines on thirty acres of gently rolling hills.
Lav and I can see it from the porch of our stone cottage near the old fermentation building.
I can see it a little less well today, courtesy of my swollen eye.
Our newest resident got me good.
Mabel doesn’t immediately glance up at me, but she does acknowledge me. “How’s the eye?”
“Better than the plumbing in the mother-in-law house.”
That gets her attention. “You have bad—oh, shit. You’re soaked. Do you need a towel?”
I shake my head.
Weather’s nice today.
Me being wet is actually the least bad thing about today.
She flips her sketchbook shut and sets it aside, eyes the glass of red wine on the half barrel that serves as an end table out here, and then looks back at me with a wince. “What happened and how bad is it?”
I’d love to sit in the wicker chair next to her, but in the interest of not getting the cushion soaking wet, I stand in front of her, where I have a view of my daughter bent over the coffee table in the sitting room inside.
“Good news first. Got the new toilet and shut-off valve installed. Shower curtain rod fixed too.”
“And the bad news?”
I glance back at the vineyard and beyond, to the rolling green hills heading up into the mountains separating us from Napa, not wanting to look at her.
Don’t want to look at the mother-in-law quarters that sits across from the overgrown and untended gardens either, but that’s unfortunately where my gaze goes next.
Fuck, my eye hurts. I’m overdue for painkillers. “When I turned the water back on, the kitchen pipes exploded.”
“Shit shit shit,” she whispers. “Is this something you can fix?”
“Can I? Probably.”
“I hate when you say it like that.”
She’s not alone. This is the part of our arrangement I dislike the most—the part where I have to tell her that fixing one thing revealed something larger that needs to be repaired.
Makes me feel like I’m breaking more than I’m fixing.
Like I’m the problem.
Doesn’t happen often, but it is happening more frequently.
Here.
Not on my other jobs.
Just here.
And this place needing more repairs means less time for my paid work off-property.
Not that summers are ever a good time for a heavy workload. The summer camp that kicked Lav out for pretending to be a meowing nudist was half days, not full days. I picked that option on purpose to balance making enough to support us with having more time with her.
She’s only six once.
And not for much longer.
“Called a couple plumbers I know,” I tell Mabel. “Two can get you quotes tomorrow or the next day.”
She reaches for the glass of red wine and takes a glug before looking at me again. “Tomorrow or the next day,” she repeats. “Holy fuck, your eye looks bad.”
I ignore the comment about my eye. It hurts like a bitch too, but I don’t have the luxury of time to whine about it, nor would it help. “I can keep calling around. See if we can get someone in sooner.”
The deadeyed stare of you know the Notorious P-I-P has alienated half the plumbers in the valley and the rest of them know her reputation is the only response she gives me.
I spread my hands as a cool breeze hits my wet clothes and hair. “I told them you have someone staying in the mother-in-law quarters and that it’s critical, but they’re on other emergency jobs. And…”
“And?”
“Kitchen probably needs new flooring too. Don’t think this is the first time there was a leak.”
“Okay.”
Okay.
Okay is not okay.
“I know things are tight here, so I’ll do what I can to make it as easy on you as possible.” It’s the elephant in the room that we don’t talk about.
She pretends everything’s fine, but I see the signs. Waiting a little longer to get things fixed. Patch jobs instead of longer-lasting repairs.
It’s not how she did things when I first got here.
“I’ve got it,” she says.
“We don’t have a lot, but if you need help—”
“I’ve got it, Heath.”
“I’ll cover the flooring.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
I rub my eyes, temporarily forgetting about the stupid black eye, and I huff out a breath at my own stupidity as the pain radiates behind my eyeball.
And then I huff out another breath at one more thing I don’t want to do.
“Can we trade? I can’t—finding a new setup for Lav isn’t going well.
All of the summer camps are full. Daycares too.
I can probably arrange a playdate schedule for her, but it’ll take time, so if you can—”
Mabel sticks out her hand. “Deal. We’ll watch Lav this summer, and you can fix the kitchen floor in the mother-in-law house.”
I eyeball her hand, then her face. “I’m getting the better end of this deal.”
“There are no ends of this deal in this house. We help each other in all ways that we’re able, and we’re able to help watch Lav so you can do what you need to do—on- and off-property.”
She’s said it a hundred times if she’s said it once, especially while I was dealing with all of the legal bullshit my in-laws threw at me after Ava died.
But I still don’t like handing over my responsibilities to other people.
And Lav’s a big responsibility that I feel like I’m fucking up half the time and that I’m raising in ways that my wife wouldn’t have approved of the other half of the time.
Laughter spills out from the house.
Ginny and a late-middle-aged woman that I haven’t met, which means she must be Elizabeth, are with Lav.
They’re on the floor and leaning over the square coffee table in the middle of the sitting room.
Likely drawing or coloring. Arts and crafts are the only low-key activities that Lav will sit still for.
Usually she’s a bundle of chaotic energy, running here and there and being impossible to keep up with.
Beyond the sitting room, I spot Cricket in the hallway, holding a mug and staring at the wall that the ladies affectionately call the wall of shame.
All of the past residents who have come and gone here, whether they stayed for a night or for months, because of their own moments of internet virality.
I twitch.
What Mabel and Pip do here is good, and I generally don’t have opinions about the residents, but I don’t like Cricket.
Not because she punched me. I get it. Dude walking into your bathroom when you think you’re alone?
Yeah.
I give a lot of grace for any reaction to that, and I know it wasn’t her fault I wasn’t told she’d be there, just like it wasn’t my fault I walked in on her.
Bedroom was fully made up, no luggage or other obvious signs of occupancy.
It’s not uncommon for Pip to forget to turn off the bathroom fan after she uses the cottage, so even hearing that motor running didn’t feel out of place.
But Cricket has this—this—this vibe.
And I don’t like it.
I look back at Mabel and find her watching me.
She’s dropped her hand and is sipping her wine, not giving anything away behind her glasses.
Never a good sign.
“What?” I say on a sigh.
“There’s another consideration that might make you feel better about us watching Lav.”
I dislike this even more than I initially did. “Go on.”
“That spare bedroom I use for work?”
“Yeah?” She’s a costume designer and sells custom creations to select clientele, and that’s all I’ll say about that.
“I moved my projects to the attic.”
That has my attention. “You closing up shop?”
“No. We needed my usual workspace for a bedroom when Elizabeth arrived.”
I do quick math.
Six bedrooms total, which includes the one Mabel generally uses for her sewing machine and worktable and her fabrics.
One bedroom for Pip. One for Mabel. One for Ginny.
Samantha and Olivia are married, so they share one.
Dori’s another current resident who’s been here for about two months after her viral moment.
Looking like she might be a long-timer. And I wasn’t expecting anyone in the mother-in-law cottage today because it’s rare to get two new people within a week, and Elizabeth showed up this past Monday.
I got the memo about Elizabeth’s arrival, but I didn’t do the math then. Didn’t think about Mabel giving up her workroom.
But it did make sense that they didn’t put Elizabeth in the mother-in-law house, because we all know the plumbing’s touchy and they don’t use the space unless they have to.
Especially because of what Pip generally does there when the neighbor comes calling.
Which means—
“Oh, hell,” I say before Mabel can say it out loud.
It means there’s no real bedroom left for Cricket to stay in.
Except there technically is one more empty bedroom on the property.
Mabel stays straight-faced and as calm and patient as my parents. “I’m not the one who thinks things have to be even.”
“I—” I cut myself off, and this time I remember my eyeball before I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I’d ask this even if you didn’t need help with Lav,” she says gently. “This is how we do things around here.”
“I know how we do things around here.”
“Thought you might need the reminder.”
“What does that mean?”
“You haven’t been around much unless it’s been to fix something or track Lav down when she sneaks over here.”
“Been busy,” I lie.
It’s not a complete lie.
I have been busy.
“Look, Heath, I know the lawsuit was a lot—”
I grunt.
“—and I’ve never been a single parent—”
“I’m managing fine.”
“—and this place will always be about doing whatever you need to do for your own safety, security, health, and happiness, but you don’t seem happy lately. Have we done something to offend you?”
“No. God, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Cut me some slack, Mabel. I’m dripping wet.”
“It’s not about today.”