13
The office at Donoven and Sons was fast becoming Emma’s second home. She updated accounts with information from the infamous card file while fielding remodeling inquiries. Her electrical vocabulary had blossomed. In the back corner of the office, Wade handled accounts payable from his laptop. She took note of Wade’s typing skills. Both hands participated in the key clicks. His claw had thawed. She sat taller in her office chair knowing she had contributed to his healing by coaching and nagging him to do his hand massages and unassisted walking. At least she had one recent win in the life column. Her career at the retirement community was a total loss.
She hoped Wade didn’t see her as a charity case, or worse, someone who could be duped easily. The idea that Ron may have seen her as a mark made her bristle. If she stood out at chamber of commerce meetings in Milwaukee it was because running a business had been woven into her life. In her defense, she had been scammed by the best. People twice her age had lost large sums of money. She wasn’t going to let Ron’s fraud ruin her reputation.
Her phone flashed a message from Sam.
INTERVIEW WENT WELL. NOW I WAIT.
Emma texted a quick reply. Inwardly, she happy-danced around the office.
She rotated her chair toward Wade.
“Sam texted that her interview in Whispering Creek went well.” The small Tennessee town agreed with her friend. Securing a teaching job close to home would be a big answer to prayer.
Wade glanced away from the laptop screen. “Hope she gets it.” He cracked a brief smile. “Cole’s been wanting her to find a job here.”
“So, she won’t fly the coop back to Wisconsin?”
“Something like that.” Wade cleared his throat. “I like having Cole around again. Sam’s the one that made him turn a one-eighty. She’s all right.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And you helped clear the air between me and my brother, so thanks.” Wade pulled at his collar. He looked as comfortable as a soaked kitten.
Her heart grew soft and snuggly. Partly because God had used her to heal Wade and Cole’s relationship. Only an outsider could have picked up on Wade’s resentment of his brother. And partly because Wade’s dark lashes blinking with a look of sincere vulnerability was the best cozy blanket to her spirit. She didn’t like being away from home, broke, and second-guessing herself, but if God used her to help brothers reconcile, then some of her struggles had been a blessing.
Wade stared at her with an is-anyone-home expression.
She had daydreamed and dropped the conversation. Did he think she was ignoring him?
“We all need a Sam in our life.” Truth fled from her lips. “Sam did the heavy lifting. I blurted out an observation. My mouth does that sometimes.” She released a quick smile at Wade and then focused on her computer. Work shouldn’t get too personal. Once Fran returned, there wouldn’t be a position to fill. This was a short-term fix not a career. She needed a reminder post-it note stuck to Fran’s dancing flower.
The phone interrupted their conversation. Saved by a ring. When Wade opened up about his past hardships, her heart grew in size and threatened to pop the official blue buttons on her work shirt. She knew Wade didn’t open up to everyone, and she felt privileged that he shared his struggles with her.
“Whoops. Got to get back to work.” She answered the phone. “Donoven and Sons Electric.”
No one greeted her with a request.
“Hello. Is anybody there?” Probably a spam call.
“Do you check appliances?” Every syllable trembled from an aged voice.
Emma stayed upbeat with an ounce of caregiver calm. “I’m sure we could help. What seems to be the problem?”
Wade rolled his chair closer. Could he hear the elderly woman?
“I think something’s burning.” The customer sounded uneasy. Did she have dementia?
Electrical fires were not her expertise, but smoldering wires would definitely smell. Her scandalous boss had been killed in a fire. She didn’t need a customer to die that way, too.
“Maybe you should call the fire department and have them check it out. We wouldn’t want your house to burn. Or you to be harmed.” She tapped her shoe on the floor. Why couldn’t this be a routine inquiry? Was this how a 9-1-1 operator felt?
“Do they charge? The ambulance company sent me a bill.”
Emma’s skin tingled. She needed to go in a different direction.
“Where do you live?” Hopefully, close to the office.
As the lady recited her address, Emma typed it into the computer. An invoice popped onto the screen. Gertrude Johnson lived a couple blocks from the office.
“Ms. Johnson?”
“Yes.”
Praise God for technology and loyal customers.
“I don’t have any technicians available right now, but I’ll drive our owner over. You’re not that far away. Do me a favor and stand by the front door for an easy getaway if something should ignite.” Emma’s brain had already started the frantic journey to Gertrude’s house.
Wade flailed his arms. His no-go signal was done with perfectly flat hands. Her physical therapy had worked wonders, but where was his compassion? Wade acted like a stingy boss stamping out sympathy with his heavy work boots.
She pointed to his coat with a no-nonsense jab. She was going to help Ms. Johnson with or without him. Preferably with him as she knew nothing about wiring.
“Oh, that would be lovely. I will see you soon.” Ms. Johnson repeated her address before hanging up.
Emma ended the call and leapt to her feet. She would not be reprimanded sitting down. Wade was too tall, too broad, too muscular. She ended that unnerving line of thinking. Presently, he was one big grump even if he was a handsome grump.
“Wade.” She jammed a hand into her hip. “We’re going to save an old lady. We need to be a Sam in somebody’s life.” They could provide excellent customer service and help a neighbor in one call. “You can argue with me in the van and call for back up when we get there.”
His blue eyes widened pushing his dark eyebrows higher on his forehead. If she was a mouse, she would be scurrying for the nearest crevice.
He leaned toward her, and every ounce of righteous piety puddled at her feet. He grunted, hit the answering machine button, and grabbed his coat.
“Just don’t drive like a maniac.” He wedged his cane under his arm.
She’d pump a fist if he wasn’t her boss.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she followed him out of the office. He’d soon discover that she was right. Jesus said to love thy neighbor, and Ms. Johnson was a neighbor in need. The elderly lady was also a former customer. Repeat business was the best.
She raced to the service van and opened the driver’s door. “Speedy granny driving coming up.”
~*~
What just happened? He was the co-owner of a company that had rules for engaging customers and for service calls. He had deferred too quickly to Emma’s judgment without thinking this situation through. She was a new hire and northern transplant. A temporary transplant. He should have called the authorities. Though, Emma would have them there before the police or fire department arrived. Sirens might scare the old lady. His muscles were as stiff as the plastic dash. Lord, please go before us to Ms. Johnson’s home. I can’t take any more stress in my life.
Emma eased the van to a stop at an intersection. She tilted her head and cast a glance in his direction. She smiled like this was a normal day at work. Well, it wasn’t. He rolled his eyes at her cheerful bossiness.
“She’s a damsel in distress and a former customer. Your dad installed a streetlight two years ago and there have been some updates since. We have the office covered. Our answering machine is on in case someone calls. Besides, you’ll have a customer for life when Gertrude sees you looking all handsome in your dark blue electric shirt.” Emma’s face blanched. She leaned into the steering wheel like a nearsighted senior driver and hit the gas.
An attractive woman thought he was handsome. He stretched his back, easing the tension. Too bad Emma was an employee. Knowing her, it was a slip of the tongue. Words flew out of her mouth without a second or third thought. He played ignorant of her compliment and stifled his grin.
“The address is about a block away. On the right.” The coordinates flew from Emma’s lips. Was she babbling to cover up her assessment of his good looks?
“You’re right. Ms. Johnson doesn’t live far from the office.” He could give Emma some encouragement. She had picked up the office duties without peppering him with questions, and she also treated every customer like a long-lost cousin. A few people had mentioned her helpfulness when he went over the cost of fixtures. In the electrical market, he needed as much repeat business as possible. Fran was good with people, but Emma had a gift.
Emma turned into a curved driveway angling toward a ranch home. The house sat back from the busy street with its front stoop shaded by two maple trees. Thankfully, no flames or smoke rose from the roof.
As soon as the service van parked in front of the house, the front door opened, and a woman peered through the screen. He assumed it was the elderly lady because no man he knew would wear a bright yellow top. The color put his lightning bolt insignia to shame.
He opened the van door and waved to the woman. She didn’t look familiar. Dad must have handled the calls. Emma hurried around the back of the van. She appeared carrying a toolbox with his cane hanging from her arm.
“I don’t need that.” He pointed to the cane. “I’ve lapped my couch this morning, and I’m feeling steady on my leg.” Thanks to you . Emma had pushed him harder than any of his former therapists. Her pushiness was one reason he was here on this crazy call.
“No problem. I’ll carry it just in case.” She sounded breathless as she beelined it to the front porch. He followed her whirlwind dash to the door.
The screen door opened.
“Hey, Ms. Johnson.” Emma waved with the cane wedged into the crook of her elbow. “I’m Emma and this is Wade Donoven. We’re here to check out your smell.” Laughter bubbled from Emma. “That’s probably the strangest greeting I’ve ever given. I hope you’re doing okay?”
An elderly woman with wiry gray hair and wearing glasses upside down on her head shuffled outside. She kept the screen door open so they could enter. “I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He entered the home and went into diagnostic mode. “Where did you smell the burning?”
Sniffing sounds interrupted his thoughts. Emma was breathing in and out audibly. “Do you use those plug-in waxes? I’m detecting a faint aroma of bold lemons. Summertime Lemonade maybe? That’s a bestseller.”
Why was Emma mentioning air freshener? Time was of the essence.
“Ma’am, the burning—”
“The pluggable wax is in the kitchen where the smell was coming from.” The elderly woman shuffled through the tiny foyer into the kitchen. She tugged her cardigan tight over her floral housedress. “You don’t think the smell has anything to do with my air freshener, do you? I’ve used them for years.”
“Probably not. Unless there’s something wrong with the outlet.” He stopped in the middle of the rectangular kitchen and inhaled the air. “Yep. Something is going on in here.”
Emma set his toolbox near the refrigerator. “There’s a burnt toast smell mixing with your lemons, Ms. Johnson.” She pointed to an outlet with a small plastic insert. “My money’s on this outlet.”
“Just a minute.” He was the only certified technician in the room. Many households plugged in scented oils or warming wax holders. That didn’t mean the outlet was burning. “Before we do anything, I need to shut off the breakers to the kitchen. Where’s your fuse box located?”
“The woman pointed toward the front door. “It’s in the first bedroom on the left. In the closet.”
“I’ll shut off the electricity to the kitchen.” He flexed his hand. The claw hadn’t overtaken his muscles in a few days. At this rate, he’d be making these service calls alone without the professional sniffer.
“Do you need my help?” Emma’s upbeat tone didn’t grate on his nerves like it might have weeks ago. He was so close to jumping into his old life again where he didn’t need to ask for his parents, brother, or employees to assist him. He hadn’t been on a call diagnosing problems in months. Being in this kitchen, making a difference, had him grateful to Emma for dragging him out of his office cocoon.
“I’m good.” A grin threatened to explode. He was good. Good enough to do his job.
When he returned from flipping breakers, he stood in the entrance to the kitchen. Emma had coaxed Ms. Johnson into a chair and was rearranging her eyeglasses.
He scanned the set up. Sunshine from the window over the sink brightened the room, and helped him figure out the cause of the smoldering scent. The house was older, but it was clean and well maintained. Judging from the cat food bowl on the side of the counter, there shouldn’t be a mouse problem. Every corner of the flooring was swept clean.
He studied the outlet with the plug-in again. A coffeemaker, toaster, and bean grinder sat beneath the power source on the counter. A single black plug occupied the lower terminal. Did Ms. Johnson pull out the cords when she used each appliance?
“Will you be able to fix it?” Ms. Johnson’s raspy voice shook as she grasped the top of a dinette chair. He imagined she was fearful of being here alone if a fire started. At her age, he would be too.
“Don’t worry.” Emma patted the older woman’s hand. “Wade will figure it out. He’s not only an electrician, he also owns the company. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this. It’s like finding the last puzzle piece. Sometimes you need to look on the floor.”
The floor wasn’t a problem. He pulled the appliances away from the main outlet. All three cords snaked over the counter edge. Not one was plugged into the lower outlet terminal. He opened his toolbox and grabbed a flashlight. Shining the beam between the counter edge and the refrigerator, he noticed a power strip. Lowering his head, he did his best impersonation of an Emma sniff. Something was definitely caustic.
“Where’d you get the power strip for your appliances?” The flashlight revealed cheap plastic and a nonexistent surge protector.
Furrowing her brow, Ms. Johnson faced Emma. “My grandson, I think. It was packed with some boxes in the closet. From his time in college.”
“Did he graduate recently?” Emma made it seem like they were having a chat over tea and cookies.
“Oh no. My grandson’s almost forty.”
Emma’s brown eyes bugged his direction. “I think we’re gonna need a new strip.”
His thoughts exactly. Emma’s shocked expression made him want to laugh, but he kept a professional demeanor.
He pulled the strip onto the counter, the plastic overly warm to his touch. “I think I found our puzzle piece. I wouldn’t trust this strip much longer. It’s cheaply made, hot to the touch, and there’s no certification stamp.” He unplugged the power strip from the wall and wrapped the cord around it. “I may have a strip in the van to replace it.”
Stepping away from Ms. Johnson, Emma reached for the power strip. “I can go get the new one out of the van.”
“I’ve got it.” And he did. His leg felt strong. His fingers were nimble. And he had helped a customer solve a problem. He flipped on the breaker before heading out to the van. The light that illuminated the kitchen mirrored his future. He grinned. It felt good to be in charge again. All he needed was a driving release, and he could get on with his life.
When he returned, Emma had opened a window. She talked non-stop to Ms. Johnson about winter weather in Wisconsin. How could people enjoy a frozen tundra? Her quirks were cute. Ms. Johnson hung on to Emma’s every detail.
“I’ve got a white strip to match your counters.” He held the new one so Ms. Johnson could see it. “I’ll plug in your appliances, and we should be good to go.”
“Let me give it one more sniff test.” Emma rose and did her deep breathing. “Wade solved your problem. No more burning lemons.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ms. Johnson stood, squinted through her glasses, and grasped his good hand.
His hand swallowed hers as if he held a newly hatched bird in his palm. An image of Grandma Donoven flashed through his mind.
“What do I owe you? You came so fast.” The elderly woman glanced between him and Emma. “I was getting scared.”
He knew the answer before he spoke it. “No charge. We were happy to come by. We appreciate your past business and want to help. Keep us in mind for the future.”
“Are you sure?” The surprise in the woman’s eyes made his heart swell.
“We’re sure.” Emma’s gaze met his, and he would have sworn she swiped a tear away. She looked at him as if he was wearing a cape and had superpowers. If he was forced to admit it, Emma was the one with a superpower. She might have a big mouth, but she had a super-sized heart. His heart did a funny dip as she smiled in his direction.
“How about some cookies? I made a batch yesterday.” Ms. Johnson reached for a set of jars near the sink.
“Well, we can’t turn down cookies.” Emma opened the plastic baggie Ms. Johnson had handed her as their customer filled it. If anyone walked in, they would swear Emma was a relative or neighbor.
An ever-growing part of him wished Emma lived nearby.
He grabbed the toolbox while Emma took his cane and the cookies out to the van.
They were about to get into their seats when a sedan stopped abruptly behind their vehicle.
A middle-aged woman sprinted from her car.
“Is everything okay?” Her words came out as frantic as she appeared. “A neighbor called me about the electric truck being here. My mom has been forgetting things.”
“Nothing forgotten here.” Wade set the toolbox down and rubbed his hands together. An odd yet welcomed sensation. “Your mom smelled something burning and called the office. We’ve done some work here before. We came out to check on her. She smelled an old power strip going bad.”
The woman breathed out and pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m so glad you came. Thank you. She doesn’t tell me everything.” The woman cast a glance at Emma who stood on the opposite side of the van. “Did she say where she got the strip? I don’t remember one being here.”
“Supposedly from a box her grandson left in the closet,” Emma said.
“That’s so scary. I don’t even know what’s stored in some of those closets.” The woman shook her head and briefly closed her eyes. “Thanks again for helping her.”
“You’re welcome. Call us anytime. Everything worked out for the best.” Wade turned to get in the passenger seat.
“Hey, do you mind if I take a picture of you two and your van? That way I can remember who to call if I need work done.” The woman must have assumed they’d be agreeable since she fished a phone from her coat pocket.
What could it hurt to have a photo with Emma. She instigated the drive over instead of phoning the fire department.
“Sure.” Emma scooched beside him all smiles as usual. “We’re happy to troubleshoot.”
He grimaced at the camera. Good thing they wore their official jackets for free advertisement.
The woman checked the picture. “Thanks so much for coming out. You two were my mom’s guardian angels today.” She flashed a brief smile before rushing toward the front door.
“You’re welcome,” Emma called, rounding the front of the van.
He didn’t feel like an angel as he slid into the passenger seat. A grumpy one, maybe. Emma had a huge heart for people. If he had fielded the call, Ms. Johnson’s kitchen might have gone up in flames.
Emma eased the van down the driveway and stopped at the curb. Her hair whipped back and forth as she waited for the traffic to clear before pulling out onto the street.
He grabbed the wheel. “Wait a minute. Before we leave, I’d like to say something.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Emma placed the van in park with a determined look on her face. “I don’t have a cup or jar with me, and I don’t want quarters on the floor of your work van.”
As soon as his brain made sense of her words, he barked out a laugh. A carefree laugh pent up for too long behind bitterness and anger and whatever else came from being sidelined from life for weeks on end. He turned as far as the seatbelt would allow and tried to wipe the grin off of his face, but his cheeks wouldn’t stay flat.
“I wanted to thank you. I’m glad we came. I don’t know that I would have driven to Ms. Johnson’s house if you hadn’t…” He scrambled to find the right word. One that wouldn’t insult his employee. “Encouraged me.”
“First of all, you didn’t drive.” Emma’s eyes hurled golden-brown beams at him that reminded him of a jovial school lunch monitor. “But I believe you would have come if you could have driven, or you would have sent one of the technicians. The fear coming through the phone was scary. It melted my heart, and I’m sure it would have melted yours.”
“You give me too much credit. I’ve been in a bad state since my accident. I’ve held onto bitterness toward Cole, the world, even God.” He blew out a breath and put on his best linebacker face willing his emotions to stay under control. “I’m glad the anger is leaving. And that call.” He hooked a thumb toward the ranch home. “That was fun. I’ve missed being around customers. Solving problems. I didn’t know how much I missed the interactions until today. So thank you for pushing me out of the office.”
“You’re welcome.” She tapped her chin with a sparkly fingernail. “I think you are the first person to praise me for being pushy. So thank you.” She elongated the oo sound mimicking a local.
He grinned at her imitation southern drawl. “I wouldn’t call it pushy.”
“Your answer deserves a cookie.” She sat taller in the driver’s seat. “Open the baggie and hand me one before we head back to the office. Chocolate chip are my favorite.”
“Mine too.” Gripping the plastic, he unzipped the top with ease. No cramps or clawed fingers hindered his movements. Emma had helped him solve that problem. He handed her a cookie.
She took a bite and moaned. “These are so good.” After another swallow, she faced him, all business. “You should do a post on the company’s social media about flimsy electrical strips. I never would have thought that could be a problem. They’re all the same to me.” She popped the last of her cookie into her mouth and grabbed the steering wheel. “Are you ready to get back to work?”
“Yes and yes.” It surprised him how much he was looking forward to returning to the office. With Emma. She had only been in his life a short time, but she was what the doctor and therapist ordered. Emma didn’t see him as a patient or victim. She saw him as a business owner ready to run his company again and support his family members. She could talk about staffing, customer relations, sales, and inventory without missing a beat.
He leaned his head against the seat while Emma drove toward the office. The sweet, rich taste of chocolate awakened his mouth. Life was looking up. Up. He grinned. Thank You, Lord for having Ms. Johnson call. I’m so close to being back in charge of my life, I can taste it.