Page 39 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
I gasp. Oh, yes! I totally forgot about it.
Gosh.
I’m already halfway to the stairs.
“Margot—”
“I’ve got it!” I call back, taking the steps two at a time. “Let’s just hope it’s not another plumbing disaster!”
I reach the second floor and hurry down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the old runner rug. Room Ten—Mr. Avery’s—is at the end.
I knock, bracing myself for a complaint and already reaching for my apologetic smile.
The door opens a crack, and there he is—buttoned up in his usual cardigan, thick glasses perched on his nose.
“Mr. Avery, I’m so sorry about the bathroom. Ana told me, and?—”
He holds up a hand. “Don’t worry. It’s been fixed. Thank you.”
Then—click—the door shuts before I can say anything else.
I blink at the door, stunned.
Fixed?
By who?
I whirl around and glance down the hallway as if the answer will materialize from the air. But it’s quiet. Peaceful.
Frowning, I descend the stairs, my boots tapping lightly on the old wood. The to-do list in my head is still whirring—plumbing, towels, the late apple cider delivery—but one thing is clear: I did not fix Mr. Avery’s bathroom.
Just as I reach the bottom step, the front door creaks open.
Aunt Edie trudges in, bundled in one of her oversized shawls and muttering about how the weather has “turned on her joints.”
I cross my arms. “Aunt Edie, do you know anything about Mr. Avery’s plumbing being fixed?”
She pauses in the middle of the foyer, then raises her brows innocently. “Me?”
“Yes. You.”
She snorts, peeling off her gloves. “Margot, I know you think I can do everything—and to be fair, I can—but I’ve never touched plumbing tools in my life. I wouldn’t even know which way to hold a wrench.”
I narrow my eyes. “I just went up to his room and he says it’s been fixed. Didn’t even give me time to question it.”
“Well, be thankful for a miracle. Don’t question it.”
That gets a laugh out of me despite myself. “Well… that’s strange. But I’m so happy it’s off my to-do list. Finally, I can catch a break.”
Aunt Edie gives me a sly smile I don’t quite trust. “Miracles happen every day, darling.”
Then she glides into the kitchen, humming as she goes.
I stare after her, wondering what that’s about.
But I should have known breaks don’t come to me that easily. If it isn’t Mr. Avery’s bathroom, something else will definitely come up.
That afternoon, I’m stretched out on the tufted loveseat in my office, lazily reviewing tomorrow’s schedule, when Ana walksin with the kind of face people usually wear before delivering terrible news. She looks like she’s about to combust.
