4. Chapter 3
Sarah
I'm sitting down at the kitchen table, biting my nails. I do that when I'm anxious, and I hate it because my fingers look awful when I do it. It's been forty minutes since the man said he would be here, and I can't keep myself still.
I hope he doesn't charge me an arm and a leg for doing this, but there's no other option. The ring itself is not too valuable, but it's the memories and what it represents that's of value. I used to admire that ring on my grandmother's finger and wish I would wear it one day when I got engaged.
To me it was the most beautiful thing in the world. My grandmother would only take it off when she was cooking, and sometimes would let me guard it while she baked. It's those memories that I hold dear now that she's gone. I can't believe that she's gone.
The ring though, it's proof of her existence and the love we had for one another. I'm deep in my thoughts when I hear something up front. Is that him? I hear three hard knocks on the front door and get up so fast I almost tumble the chair backwards.
I run to the door and open it, my breath held. And there he is. He's beautiful? Without knowing what I'm doing I jump on him and grab him close.
"Oh my God, you're here! You're finally here."
I hold him for longer than is proper. Is it proper to hug your plumber? I'm not sure, but what I do know is that I am eternally grateful for him being here at my home and carrying what I suppose are tools. Finally, I let go of him and step back, a big smile on my face.
"I'm sorry about that, I'm just so happy that you are here."
He grumbles something, but otherwise doesn't move. I open the door fully and wave him in.
"I've forgotten my manners. My name is Sarah."
He grumbles again.
"What was that?"
"Mitchell."
"Mitchell, it's so good to meet you. Follow me to the kitchen. I tried to fish the ring out with some wire, but that only made it worse."
I take a moment from my own babbling and check him out. He's tall with silver hair and wearing what I would expect a lumberjack to wear. Buffalo plaid shirt over a grey henley, faded jeans and boots that look a little too fancy for a plumber to wear.
I'm being ridiculous. Mitchell is already at the kitchen sink, opening the doors below it. I sit down at the kitchen table again and watch him work. His movements are sure and measured, as if he's done this a hundred times over, which he might just have.
Staying still is again a problem, but I don't want to disturb him.
He's so focused on what he's doing which lifts my spirits considerably.
I follow him with my eyes as he gets out his tools.
He's got a light, which is good because I don't have any type of flashlight here.
I know I'm hopeless, but things should change soon.
Mitchell is now lying down on the floor pulling the pipes apart, and after a few struggles he manages to get the pipe loosened.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It is happening.
He'll rescue my grandmother's ring from the pipe.
As if by magic, I hear the ring ping when it falls to the floor as Mitchell turns over the pipe.
I run towards him and practically take his hand off as I grab the ring from him. I check it out and it's perfect. Nothing mars it's beautiful exterior. Tears start to fall down my face, and it's impossible to stop them. I'm lost in my happy tears when I feel his arms go around me.
He's strong and warm and all the good things that I can imagine.
He pats me gently on my back as if reassuring me.
He's obviously very bad at this, but I appreciate the effort.
Right now, however, I can't stop myself.
The stress and everything that's happened in the last six months is just too much for me.
I hear him growl, and it just makes me cry some more. After what seems like forever, I pull back and reach for some paper towels.
"Thank you, Mitchell. I don't know what I would have done without your help."
He seems uneasy with my words and goes back to the plumbing. After all, he's got to set everything back to what it was before.
"You might want to buy one of those strainers for the sink. That way this won't happen again."
Yeah, I've seen those at the store. I can do that. I place the ring on my index finger of my right hand and sit back down as he works in silence.
"Okay. Would you like something to drink? I have coffee or some iced tea."
"Iced tea is fine. Thank you, Sarah."
I get up and bring the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. I go on to fill two glasses and place them on the kitchen table. Mitchell finishes up with the plumbing and puts everything back below the sink. I finally realize what a mess my house is and shame fills me.
We had no choice, grandma and I, to live as frugally as possible. That meant we didn't have money for fixing up things around the house. Whenever emergencies happened, we managed to get by, but it was a very difficult time with her doctor's bills.
Mitchell looks at me, and something crosses his face. I can't identify it, but I know it's not judgement. I can feel that about this man. He won't use this against me.
"How much do I owe you, Mitchell?"
He sits down in front of me and takes a sip of his iced tea. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs when drinking the tea. I could watch this man forever and never get tired.
"Looks like you need some help around this house."
"It's on the to do list."
"Just how long is this list?"
He gives me a bright smile and I end up blushing. That is one panty melting smile that man has, and he knows how to use it.
"Seriously, Mitchell, how much do I owe you?"
"It's on the house."
"Why would you do that?"
"You needed help, Sarah, and I'm a gentleman."
I search his face trying to get a read on this man. He's definitely a gentleman, but… the words flow out of me.
"You've spent time to come here and help me with this, I have to pay you for that time."
"I don't need the money."
"What are you my guardian angel or something?"
"Something. Tell me, what would you fix first?"
"You mean here in the house?"
He nods and takes another sip of tea.
"The kitchen. I like to cook and want to make a food vlog, but I need a better backdrop for my videos."
"Is that what you do for a living?"
"No, right now I'm working as a virtual assistant."
"Let me help you. I can start on the kitchen tomorrow afternoon."
"I can't let you do that, Mitchell."
"At least let me work on the kitchen. If you don't like it, we don't have to do the rest. Think of it as a trial run."
A part of me thinks it's crazy that this man wants to help me, but a bigger part wants to spend more time with this rugged, silver fox that looks good enough to eat. I find myself nodding at his request, and he gives me that bright smile again.
"Then it's settled. I'll start tomorrow."
With that, he picks up his toolbox and walks out of my house, leaving me flustered and a little bit turned on.