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Stacy yelled back through the door, “Tallulah, young lady, we’ll deal with whatever the Lord sends our way.”
It took me less than a second to put two and two together. “Sure, I’ll help. What kind of cookies?” As I walked, I straightened my shoulders to hide my embarrassment.No problem here. I didn’t just think the worst of both of you.
“The best chocolate chip cookies in the whole county.” Stacy beamed.
As I moved toward them, the feeling that came over me was no longer disgust at Boone’s behavior, but at mine. I’d allowed my preconceptions of Boone to paint him in the worst possible light. And by association, I’d mentally convicted poor Stacy, a woman I’d never met, of having the morals of an alley cat.
When I reached the porch, I pointed at the ground next to his feet. “Marge asked me to bring your phone over.”
He leaned down and retrieved it. “Thanks.”
“The name’s Stacy,” the woman said as she extended a hand. Patting her bulging stomach, she added, “A few months ago, I would’ve helped, but—”
“No problem,” I interrupted as I took her hand. “I’m Angela, and happy to help.” I pointed to her belly. “How much longer?”
“Four weeks,” she sighed. “And he can’t come soon enough.”
Inside, Tallulah gave me a half-hearted “Hi” when her mother introduced us, and then went back to scrolling her phone.
We moved to the kitchen. “Pardon my daughter,” Stacy said softly. “Her mother passed away a few months ago, and it’s been a hard time.”
So, a stepdaughter explained the age difference between the girl and baby on the way.
“It helps to get them out of the house and into the real world,” Boone suggested.
“Yeah, I know,” Stacy sighed. “I wish she’d looked harder for a job at the beginning of the summer, but now it’s too late.” She scurried to the far counter. “Where are my manners?” She held out a tub of cookies.
Three delicious cookies later, Boone and I were alone with the old water heater.
He patted the side of the metal tank. “It’s a forty-gallon model, and way too heavy to move until we get the two hundred and some pounds of water out.”
Duh.I managed not to respond, though.
He attached one end of the garden hose to the heater. “This is the drain valve,” he said in typical mansplaining fashion. He assumed that because I was a woman, I didn’t know the difference between a garden faucet and the drain for a water heater. Handing me the other end of the hose, he said, “Run this outside, if you could, dear.”
That was too much. “I’m not your dear,” I spat.
His brows went up as he faced me and stood. “Well, pardon the hell out of me for being courteous.”
He towered over me, yet I met his glare with my own. “You don’t get to call me that. We’re not even friends.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear it when I promised to be nice to you tonight. Us hicks out here in the woods sometimes use that word when we’re bein’ nice and respectful, even to not-friends.”
How had I ended up the bad person in this? “I’m an engineer, and I know what a damned drain valve is.” I’d graduated with an information technology degree, but since that department had been in the engineering school, I felt justified in assigning myself the title of engineer.
He shook his head. “Good.”
“And forty gallons of water weighs…” At eight-point-three pounds per gallon, the math was a cinch. “Three hundred and thirty-two pounds, not two hundred and some.”
He turned away. “What has your panties in such a twist?”
“Maybe if you didn’t treat me like a child I…” I didn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t for me to justify myself.
He picked up the pipe wrench and climbed the small stool.
I took the wordless hint and carried the end of the hose outside. I’d only just extended the hose to its full length when water started running out. Returning inside, I vowed to not let him goad me into playing the petulant one.
“Where is the checklist for this?” I asked in my nicest tone.
