KEEPING SCORE

Chapter Sixteen

            “You obviously know nothing about fishing.”

            “Nor do I want to.”

Taylor groaned. “Damn, I need a plumber and any company’s going to charge me two body parts to get out here on a Sunday.” She gave me a hopeless look. “I don’t suppose you’re a plumber, are you?”

“No,” I smiled. “But I know one. And I happen to know his plans for today just got cancelled.”

* * *

            Twenty minutes later, as Taylor and I were both soaked from her waterfall and the lake at our feet was threatening our knees, Kevin shuffled down the stairs. He looked good even in his plumber’s uniform. He gave us a strange look, then disappeared into the unfinished part of the basement.

            Thirty seconds later, the waterfall trickled to a stream, then drops, then stopped all together.

            “You’re a miracle worker,” Taylor told him. “How did you do that?”

            “It’s called the main water shut off,” he replied. “And every home owner should know where it is.”

            I sure didn’t know where it was, and obviously, neither did Taylor.

            The drywall was saturated and wrinkled like an accordion. Kevin pulled it off in chunks, throwing them on the waterlogged carpet. With the wall gone, the water pipes were exposed. They were filled with tiny holes and had some kind of blue slime growing on them.

            “Oh my god,” Taylor said. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

            “Yeah,” Kevin confirmed, “this isn’t good.”

            “My home’s not going to pass inspection, is it?”

            “I saw the ‘under contract’ banner,” Kevin said. “When’s the inspection scheduled?”

            “Friday. And closing’s two weeks after that.”

            “I’m not going to lie. These pipes are in bad shape. I’m going to call my boss, see what we can do for you price-wise. And I’m going to have to go to town on this section.”

            “Let’s go back to my house,” I suggested to Taylor, who looked shell-shocked. “I have frozen waffles.” To Kevin, I said, “I’m in the house on the left.”

* * *

            I spent the morning reading the papers and feeding three hungry children. Taylor spent it leaving frantic voice messages for Roger and peering out the window as more and more trucks labeled “Capital Plumbing” pulled up. Then she spent about twenty minutes on the phone in a tense conversation with her real estate agent. By the time it was over, Taylor was exhausted and white as a sheet.

            “It can’t be that bad.” I tried to sound reassuring. “A few pipes in the basement.”

            “All the drywall will have to be replaced,” she said. “And painted. And we need new wall-to-wall carpet. That’s at least a few thousand dollars. And that’s only if nothing else goes wrong.”

            “You want to go back over there?”

            “I can’t. I just can’t.”

            Roger finally showed up after dinner. He and Taylor went back over to her house to get the update.

I hopped onto my laptop and checked out the Outdoor Adventures web site. Since no one had responded to my email about carpooling, it looked like I was going to be stuck paying for before-care, which started at seven am and cost an extra $75 a week. Or I could do before-and-after care for the bargain price of $100. Sheesh. The camp itself cost $200 a week.