“It’s ten!” Rachel called up the stairs from the kitchen a while later.
There was a muffled “ready!” from Norah’s bedroom and then she was bounding down the stairs and everyone was gathered in the kitchen. Norah gave me another hug and whispered “thank you” in my ear and then everyone was stuffing last-minute things into the truck and then stuffing themselves into the truck and starting the engine and waving good-bye and driving away.
I had a few empty hours staring me in the face and I was going to use it to nap like a pro. I curled up on the couch under three blankets and conked out.
I woke up to a metallic clunk from outside. Sitting up, I brushed the hair out of my face and realized the sun had almost set—I must’ve been asleep for a while. Although, for once, no nightmares, which put me in such a good mood, I didn’t stop to wonder why.
“Hello?” someone called out.
Stuck in the blankets, I bunny-hopped to the door and opened it, shouting, “Over here!”
I saw a utility van parked near our house and a guy in a light-blue shirt and brown jacket walking my way.
“This the Master residence?” he called out.
“Yeah,” I said, holding my hand out as he reached me. “I’m Caitlin.”
He shook my hand with a smile. “I’m Tommie. I hear your hot water heater’s leaking?”
“Yeah, part of the downstairs got flooded.”
He nodded and wrote something on his clipboard, then adjusted his hat as he looked at the house.
“This it?” he asked, nodding toward the front door.
“Yeah, come on in.”
I led him to the laundry room where the hot water heater was located. He whistled when he saw the mess. “Looks like I got my work cut out for me.” He bent down and poked around the base of the heater with his pen and then looked up at me again. “I’m sorry, what’d you say your name was? Carly?”
“Caitlin,” I repeated.
“Caitlin. Sorry, I’m horrible with names. Anyway, it looks like whoever called us earlier was right; you’ve got a corroded valve here, and just looking at this thing, I can tell it is way past its prime. Probably been waiting to bite the dust for a few years.”
I frowned. “So what does that mean in terms of fixing it?”
He laughed and took his hat off, running his fingers through his hair as he stood up. “There’s no fixing it; you’ll need a new one. Now I don’t have a spare water heater just lying in my van, but I can remove this one for you.”
“Is that really necessary?” I asked, blanching. “I mean, you really can’t fix it?”
He gave me a sheepish half smile. “’Fraid not.”
I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t know a lot about water heaters, but replacing one had to be expensive.
“How much will all this cost?”
He stuffed his hands in his pocket, looking embarrassed to be talking to a girl about money. “Well, for me to remove it today and take it away will be about two hundred. To replace it could be anywhere from seven hundred to a thousand depending on what unit you get.”
I choked. He looked embarrassed. “If it could be avoided, I’d tell you that, but this sucker’s dead.”
I sighed. “Well, all right. You said you can remove it?”
“Yes, ma’am; just show me where the water controls and power breaker are.”
“It’s just Caitlin,” I said, leading Tommie into the hallway to show him the master panel.
“Caitlin,” he repeated with an embarrassed smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. He switched off the power to the laundry room.
“I’m just gonna go get my toolbox,” he said, and headed out the front door.
While he was gone, I texted Rachel and Joe to tell them the plumber had arrived and that he was working on the water heater. Rachel texted back and said that they were still driving, and thanked me again for staying behind.
Tommie came back in with a big metal toolbox. “Can you go through the house and turn on all the hot water spigots?” he asked, sliding his jacket off. “It’ll relieve pressure in the tank, and then we’ll run a hose in here and drain all the excess water outside.”
I nodded and went through the house to do what he’d asked while he went back into the laundry room, and then I went back down to watch him work since it somehow felt rude to just ignore him. He was crouched on the floor, reaching behind the water heater with both arms, the short-sleeved utility shirt straining across his back and shoulders, and I had to admit there was something to be said for working men.
“Do you need any help?” I called.
“Nah, I’m fine; just trying to locate your drain valve. And I think”—his voice trailed off and then came back—“I got it.”
He turned around to face me with a triumphant smile. “All right; let me just go grab a hose from the van and we can start draining.”
He hurried back to his truck and returned with what looked like a garden hose, and attached it to what I assumed was the drain valve he said he’d located. I ran it through the open window to the snow-covered lawn outside.