Page 6 of Acting Merry
I chuckle as I take it from her. This girl is definitely not who I was expecting to get my mail from.
Reese sighs with a hint of melodrama. “I was never good enough for you anyway, according to Bree. And now I save you the trouble of breaking my heart and…what was it she said? Oh, right. Tossing it in your dumpster fire with all the other ones you’ve broken.”
“Ah,” I say. “Right. My dumpster fire of hearts. I need to go throw some more gasoline on there. It’s looking a little sad.”
Reese reveals that show-stopping smile. “Well, until you can get your hands on another heart, you’ve got some kindling there.” She nods to indicate the stack of junk mail I’m holding. “And hey, if you forward your mail properly, you won’t even have to come get it. The kindling will come straight to you.”
“Touché. I’ll do that.”
A little dripping noise draws my attention. My ear is attuned to any noise that could spell a gigantic, unexpected bill, so I watch the kitchen faucet, but it’s completely off. It’s old and way behind the most recent kitchen faucet tech. I meant to replace it before selling, but time got away from me.
Drip.Drip.
It’s coming from below the sink.
I look at Reese. “Is there a leak?”
“Just a little one.”
“Can I take a look?”
She shrugs. “Have at it.”
I set down the stack of mail to check out the inner workings of the sink cupboard. There’s an empty plastic container with a puddle of water in it below the u-bend. I fiddle with the pipes.
“I’ve gotta know,” Reese says, “didyou leave your sweatshirt at Bree’s on purpose?”
“What?” I jerk upward and crack my head on the cabinet frame.
She winces and sucks in a sympathetic breath. “You okay?”
I rub it, then get back to work. “I’m fine. But no. I didnotleave my sweatshirt there on purpose. I took it off because her house was, like, 85 degrees. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, she was wearing it. Over underwear.”
Reese bites her lip.
“Hence the sweatshirt being left there.” I re-emerge from beneath the sink. “I wrote it off as a loss. A sad loss, but a necessary one.”
Reese leans against the counter, watching me. “A Cinderella’s glass slipper moment.”
“More like a Joseph and Potiphar’s wife moment.” I close the cupboard door and take the hand she offers me to help me up. For someone her size, she’s strong.
“You’ve got a bad seal,” I say. “Probably loosened with the cold weather. It’s not urgent, but I’d get it fixed sooner than later.”
She looks at me like I’ve just told her to dismantle a nuclear bomb.
I pull out my phone and type quickly into Google. “You can pick up the part at Home Depot—it’ll be cheaper than having a repairman upcharge you for it.”
She peers at my phone and whispers the part name a couple of times. “Yeah.” She steps away. “I’m not gonna remember that without a mnemonic or something.”
Amused, I copy the link, open my messages, paste the web address into a new thread, then hand it to her to put her phone number in.
“That also works.” She types in her phone number, then taps to send the photo. “Thanks for checking it out.”
“Thanks for bailingmeout.” I slide my phone into my back pocket, then grab my stack of mail and my sweatshirt.
“’Tis the season for good deeds, right?” She pushes off the counter and leads the way to the door.
My eyes wander around the house, taking in every nook and corner as I follow her. She hasn’t lived here very long, but it smells and feels like Christmas. It makes me want to sit down in the living room by the Christmas tree and just soak it in. The bay window looks especially cozy. It’s a spot I’d pictured before I’d even drawn up plans for the house, and Reese has made it look even better.
