Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Silver Fox (Wrong Number, Right Grump #10)

2. Chapter 1

Sarah

It's been three months since my grandmother passed away, and I miss her more than ever. I'm on my lunch break from my virtual assistant job, which lately feels so heavy, but I understand it's only grief showing up just as scheduled by life.

I don't really want to do a whole thing for a meal, so I fix myself a turkey sandwich on sourdough and eat it looking out the window at my grandmother's garden. I don't have a green thumb like she did, so the garden is struggling. I feel like giving up on everything right now.

I'm struggling with life, and I'm certain my grandmother would not want that for me. So I have to stay strong. When I finish my sandwich, I take the plate and glass to the sink to wash them. I carefully take off my grandmother's engagement ring from my finger and put it aside.

Apart from this house, that's the only thing I have from my grandmother.

She wore it until she was on her deathbed and gave it to me to keep it safe for her.

That's when I knew how close to death she was and started grieving for her.

My grandmother was an amazing woman who raised me since I was eight years old.

The time we spent together was magical, and the loss of my mother was not as difficult as it could have been without someone who loved her at my side. I lacked for nothing growing up, and my grandmother encouraged me in every endeavor that I took on.

It didn't matter if it was something silly like a lemonade stand or serious like my undergraduate project at the University. She just made everything feel possible in a world that I felt was not as friendly as it could be. It was difficult for me to make friends, so we became closer than ever.

Taking care of her that last year was difficult, but I knew I needed to spend as much time with her as I could until the end. Right now, I'm not certain I can live without her. This house is falling apart all around me, and I insist on doing the repairs myself.

I enjoy DIY projects, and this is just a bigger one. Except I can't seem to get started with it. Every corner of every room reminds me of my grandmother. Since we had a tight budget, the last few years because of me going to college, we couldn't do any repairs or hire anyone to help us.

I no longer carry the guilt of going to college. My grandmother insisted on it, knowing it would open doors for me. As I finish washing my dishes, I go to shut off the water and my hand slips. I watch in despair as the ring goes down the drain.

This is the last straw. Tears start to form in my eyes, but I've got to figure out a way to get that ring out of the sink. I don't have any tools to help me, but I can see the ring at the bottom of the drain. I go get a wire hanger from my room and try to make it into a hook.

I carefully try to fish out the ring, having it slip further and further away with each try. My hands are shaking now because if I can't get this ring out of there, I know I will fall apart into a million little pieces. I take a deep breath to steady myself and try again.

This time the ring slips even further down and now I can't see it. I'm terrified that I might lose it forever. I sit down on the kitchen table and think about my options. Go to the hardware store and get a few tools, or call a plumber to do it right.

I have a little money saved up, so I decide to call a plumber. I Google someone in my area and dial the phone. I'm so rattled that tears are running down my cheeks. I'm shaking as well, but this person can't see me, so it doesn't matter.

The phone rings three times and a deep masculine voice answers.

"Mitchell Barlow."

The voice affects me in a strange way, but I chalk it up to my nerves.

"I need your help."

I hear a grunt, and then there's silence.

"Please, you have to help me. I can't lose my grandmother's ring."

"Are you okay?"

I find it weird that a plumber cares about my well-being, but then I've never asked for help before from anyone, almost always doing things myself.

"I will be if you can get my grandmother's ring out of the kitchen sink."

"Maybe you should take a seat and take a deep breath."

"Will you help me?"

Another grunt. At this point I'm getting the idea that this man is not good with words.

"Please, that ring means everything to me."

"How about you take some deep breaths?"

I follow his advice, tears still coming down my face. I feel like I'm falling apart and I won't be able to put myself together again without large amounts of energy that I no longer have.

"Okay, but will you come?"

Another grunt, followed by some mumbling that I can't make out at the other end of the phone.

"What's your address?"

I give him my address, and a sense of relief passes through me.

"I'll be there in less than an hour."

The line goes out and I breathe deeply a couple more times. I've got help. I can get through this. I save the phone number I just dialed as 'Plumber' without knowing what the future will bring.