Page 1 of Trouble Walked In

Chapter One

Lizzie Bellamy stared at the wreckage that used to be a guest room in her upstate New York inn, Belhurst Castle, with horror. There was a gaping hole in the bathroom wall, another in the bedroom, and two inches of water on the floor. She could hear it dripping somewhere like a demented metronome, and the stench—a mixture of sewage, rotten wood, and other unidentifiable foulness—made her eyes water.

She coughed, covered her mouth and nose with one hand, and turned to Mark Tetrick, winemaker, handyman, and owner of the inn before she bought a share of it three years ago. He and his younger brother Carter had inherited the property from their father, and together with their aunt Carrie they tried to keep it afloat. At only twenty-five he’d crafted an award-winning wine label, but the business had suffered in the process.

Since Lizzie had taken up residence, the four of them had faced renovations, event fiascos, and landscaping disasters together and, in the process, Mark and Carter had becomethe brothers she’d never had, and Carrie, the chef of Belhurst, had become the friend she hadn't known she’d needed. “I thought you said it was a minor leak?”

His expression shifted from pained to exasperated. “Itwasa minor leak two weeks ago, Lizzie. I patched that bit, but I told you it wouldn’t hold forever.”

“Yes, but I thought surely it would last more than two weeks. I was planning on tackling it with the late winter surge budget. What happened?”

Mark pointed at the toilet, which now lay on its side next to the gaping hole it should be covering. “It would have lasted that long if Mr. Onstein hadn’t flushed a handful of those spongey bath toys. You know, the kind that come in little capsules that expand when you put them in water?”

Lizzie cringed at the mention of the bath toys. She knew exactly where Mr. Onstein had put his hands on those little gems. “They used those for a game at the party last night. He saved them?”

Mark gave a grim nod. “Saved ’em, then flushed ’em. He had to know it caused a backup. Bet that’s why he skipped breakfast and ran out to the bus so fast.”

She remembered the short, stout older man rushing past the buffet table this morning.

“Ithoughthe had a wonky expression this morning, but I shrugged it off. I figured he was rushing to claim his seat on the winery tour bus. He says he gets car sick if he’s not in front.” She did a double take. “You’re not saying he did this on purpose. Are you?”

Mark pressed his lips together. “Wouldn’t put it past the old coot. But no, more likely he aimed for the trash and missed. On purpose or not, I told you last winter these old pipes couldn’t take much more. My dad never did get aroundto doing much in this part of the house. They focused on the newer sections first.”

She stared at the toilet and the hole. A stopped-up toilet didn’t explain the current state of the room. “It's not just the toilet, is it.”

Mark shook his head. “The minor leak is now a major problem deep inside the wall. We need an expert. I can give Bill a shout. He might do it on the side for less. But it’s going to end up more than just this pipe when it’s done. Pretty sure he’ll have to bring the whole section up to code, too. That means all the way to the main line. Plus, there’s everything else.”

“Everything else?”

Mark gestured at the rest of the room.

Lizzie took in all the things she’d ignored. The smelly water had ruined the carpet in this room. They might be able to salvage the king-size four-poster bed, but water had crept up the wallpaper and melted the pretty rose pattern into psychotic impressions of Edvard Munch’sTheScream.

When she’d bought into her share of Belhurst Castle, it had been a charming inn nestled next to a lake in upstate New York. Lately, though, it felt more like a money pit.

Lizzie rubbed her face with both hands. “Is there a fast way to get the water off the floor?”

“I got a restoration company coming out to suck up this water, but it’s already flowing down the wall into the main ballroom.”

This couldn’t be happening. “Seriously? How bad is it?”

“It ain’t good. We’ll need new drywall, new ceiling tiles, new carpet…” Mark trailed off. “Sorry, Lizzie. This is a mess.”

She sighed and stared around at what looked like a room full of dollar signs. “I hate to ask, but any idea how much this will cost to put right?”

Mark shrugged. “Ballpark? Maybe fifty or sixty grand, all in. But insurance might pick up some of it.”

She blinked at him. “Fifty grand? As in…fifty thousand? As in dollars? Seriously?”

“Plumbing’s expensive.”

She had an urgent need to run or scream, or both. “We don’t have that. We don’t have close to that. It’s the first of September, which means we only have one more big wedding and then we’re down for almost two months, and insurance won’t cover all of this. They already raised the rates twice, and if we hit it hard again they’ll dump us for sure.”

“Well, we could do it in chunks. We could tackle this here.” Mark tapped on the toilet. “Patch up the main hole temporarily. Pull up this carpet ’cause there’s no way to get that smell out now. We got some remnants in the storage barn that’ll probably fit. That’d buy us a month, maybe. By then the insurance might kick in. But this room’s out of commission because I think the main leak is in the wall by the bed, and all I could do is slap duct tape on it. Plus, winter’s coming. Can’t leave the walls open, ’cause if these pipes freeze this’ll just get worse.”

“I don’t see how it can possibly be worse than it is already.” She shook her head as she looked around the room. She knew from experience that Mark’s estimate was probably right, and it made her sick to her stomach. She’d already plunked down close to fifty grand this year to fix the wiring. What else was going to fall off or fall apart in this old place?

Someone honked a horn outside in several long blasts. Mark sloshed over to the window and shouted, “Hey, second floor. Hurry up.”

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