Know Me Well (Wishful 3)

“Humor me.”

She shrugged and plucked at the lapel of the sweater. “I’d thought about turning it into a space for local craftspeople to sell their wares. There are a lot of people who make and sell things who don’t have large enough business to justify a storefront but could easily lease booth space. There’s not really a place for them to do that right now.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Be easy enough to build you a proper stockroom in the back, with industrial shelves and organization. Then this front part could be more retail space. Wouldn’t take much to set up other shelving or counters as need be.” Despite the mounds of stuff, he could see how it could be converted. “It’s a good idea.”

“It’s a moot point.” She’d followed him past the stacks, seeming to relax a fraction as he got her talking about other things.

“How are things going with your mama?”

Well, there went the relaxation. Her shoulders cranked up a good inch with tension and she winced. “I haven’t killed her yet, which is a minor miracle.”

“There’s not really room at your place for somebody else, is there.”

“No. And she doesn’t understand the importance of not talking until the coffee pot is empty.” She looked up at him with those deep blue I need you eyes. Which was purely projection on his part because she didn’t need him. “Silence before caffeination is sacred.”

Liam chuckled. “Your self-restraint against committing bodily harm is commendable.”

“Damn straight. No jury of my peers would convict me for that.”

“You’ve been working too hard.” He itched to reach out and rub her shoulders.

“That’s what you do when you own a business.”

“It’s also what you do when you’re trying to avoid people.”

She flashed a humorless smile. “It’s a better alternative to matricide.”

“I wasn’t talking about your mother.”

Her back stiffened. “Listen, Liam—”

“I don’t want—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “No really, listen.”

Liam fell silent. His impatience fad

ed as he heard what she’d heard.

“Is that water?” she asked.

Moving quickly, he searched the room, finding the start of a puddle at the base of one wall. Following the trail of wet upward, he saw the spreading water stain on the ceiling.

“Shit!”

He bolted into the pharmacy just in time to see the ceiling burst. Water poured out of the hole, soaking displays, slicking the floors. He dimly heard Jessie’s “Oh my God!” and Riley’s sound of alarm as he raced for the door. Taking the stairs three at a time, he tore into the apartment. The sound of water was louder here. He found the source readily enough in the hall closet. Water spewed from around the drainage valve of the ancient water heater, pooling in the base of the closet and draining through the floors.

“Oh, Jesus.” Riley had followed him upstairs.

He shot past her, scrambling to turn off the main water valve.

“Why isn’t it stopping?” she asked, an edge of hysteria to her voice.

“That only keeps the tank from refilling.” There wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop the entire eighty gallons from pouring out into the pharmacy below. “Come on.”

Running back downstairs, he sloshed through the water to start muscling displays out of the direct stream. Riley and Jessie threw themselves into the cause, as did a couple of other patrons who happened in during the chaos. As soon as the displays were moved, he began snapping out orders.

“Jessie, is any of the medication in the back in danger of getting wet?”