Page 46 of Something Old

“Can I help with something?”

The idea hadn’t even occurred to Madeline, but suddenly Gwen’s appearance seemed like a gift. “Yes, you can, in fact. I have a zillion small online purchases I need to package and get ready to ship. I got a bunch done earlier when it was slow, but there’s still a ton. We could chat and wrap?”

“I need to use your loo first,” Gwen said, already in motion toward the shop’s small bathroom, “but that sounds perfect.”

And it would’ve been if Madeline’s earlier thought about how life loved to kick a person hadn’t taken that moment to prove itself true—in a rotten sequence of three.

“Madeline? You need to get in here. Quick!” Gwen’s command was a shriek, and the bathroom door banged open.

Madeline ran toward the shop’s washroom, then surveyed the scene before her with mingled horror and embarrassment.

“All I did was sit, I swear. I’d just flushed and was about to get up when . . . ” Gwen trailed off and gestured at the toilet.

“I know. It’s my fault. The floor was soft—but I didn’t think this would happen.” Madeline shook her head, still a bit stunned. “I was trying to put off the expense of renovating this room until spring. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just startled.”

And no wonder, Madeline thought with a cringe.

The toilet’s base had broken through the floor on one side, and now the toilet leaned at a crazy angle. There was an unpleasant scent, too—the odor of sewage wafting into the air because the seal around the base had broken with the shift. That was the least of the problems, though. She’d stuff the pipe with towels, so the smell wouldn’t carry to the rest of the house.

No, the big issue was that Madeline couldn’t fix the bathroom on her own. Trying not to hyperventilate over the unexpected cost the reno would hit her with, she focused on what she could do for now—mainly control the damage.

She turned off the water to the toilet and headed to her van, kicking herself for not having a case of paper towel or a real mop bucket or anything. It had just never occurred to her that she might need something heavier duty than a Swiffer.

As Gwen, who’d come with her, shut her door, Madeline turned the key in the van’s ignition. The engine made an awful whirring, clacking sound as it turned over but didn’t start. She rolled her eyes at Gwen, not panicked—yet. “The universe wouldn’t be so cruel.”

Gwen laughed nervously as Madeline tried her key again. The same hard-working sound over and over—but again, the motor didn’t fire up. Now Madeline had a bad feeling. The awful racket sounded expensive. She tried once more—then pounded the steering wheel lightly with her fists.

“We can take mine,” Gwen said helpfully.

They roared off in Gwen’s Toyota sedan—a nice, reliable vehicle, Madeline thought, although she knew she needed the van because she always had stuff to haul.

Stuff to haul! The thought made her pulse race with stress. Her buying trip was scheduled in just two weeks. If the van wasn’t roadworthy, or if she spent her last dime plus burdened her credit card trying to fix it and the bathroom—

Stop it, she commanded herself. That’s not helping. Don’t worry until you know what you actually need to worry about. She realized Gwen was talking and tried to tune in to what she was saying.

“Has it given you problems before now?”

It? Madeline thought. Oh, right. The van. Of course. Madeline shook her head to clear it. Gwen was going to think she was losing it. “Yeah . . . no, I mean, now that you bring it up . . . Maybe it’s been running a little sluggish—but it’s no spring chicken. Who doesn’t creak and groan a bit when first getting started?

Gwen shot her a look, then smiled slightly. “Truth—but I must say, you’re taking this very well.”

Madeline shrugged, feeling she wasn’t taking it well. Not at all. “What choice do I have?”

“I guess . . . but if you need to rant and rave, I’m your person. I’d never hold it against you.”

“Aw, thanks. That actually does make me feel better.” And it did—but she also felt like crying.

They bought a mop, a bucket, and an industrial-sized package of reusable absorbent cloths. On the way back to the shop, Madeline called the contractor who’d helped with the renovation—and was informed by a cheery recorded message that he was out of town until mid-October. She didn’t bother to leave a voicemail.

“You could ask Grant to handle it or see if he knows somebody,” Gwen suggested.

“Right,” Madeline said distractedly. “I keep forgetting. You guys know each other.”

“Of course,” Gwen said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We went to school together from grade one up.”

“And you know that he and I know each other well enough for me to call him for help?”