Page 28 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

“Cal…Leach Mac Fay?” he said, butchering my name.

“Yes,” I sighed, not bothering to correct his pronunciation. All that navy blue looked vaguely official. Maybe he was collecting for the policeman’s annual picnic. “That’s me.”

“I’m Bill Carey. You called about some work you needed done?” He squinted up at the leak coming from the porch roof. “I guess you might want me to start on the roof.”

“Bill Carey? Oh, Handyman Bill! I did call, but I didn’t make an appointment. How …?”

“You left your address on my machine, but not your phone number.”

I had? “Really? I guess I was…distracted.”

“Yes, ma’am, you sounded kind of…” He shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. “…desperate.”

I bristled at the word, but before I could defend myself a big drop of water splatted on my nose. I opened the door wider and said, “That’s because I am.”

I gave Handyman Bill the tour of my house of horrors, from the many leaks and dissolving plaster to the moldy basement and broken hot water heater. He took notes on his clipboard and made guttural, monosyllabic grunts at each travesty. Not a big talker, Handyman Bill, but when we reached the basement he uttered the sweetest words I’d heard in days.

“I can’t start on the roof until the rain stops, but I think I can pump this out and get the boiler going if you’d like some hot water.”

I nearly hugged him, but I restrained myself and managed not to sound too desperate when I told him, “Yes, that would be an excellent place to start.”

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