“Is it going to be expensive?” Her voice thrummed with tension. “Sorry to ask, but the shop’s having budget issues.”

He sat back on his heels. “It won’t be cheap. But it’s not going to get better if you don’t fix it. I’ll have a look and give you an estimate.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Thanks.”

He went out to his truck and returned with some tools. Then he spread out a drop cloth. “This is going to make some noise,” he said. “Want me to wait until your grandfather’s up?”

She shook her head. “He’s really hard of hearing until he gets his hearing aids in. Do what you have to do.” She went to the main counter and turned on some lights and a computer. “And thanks for showing up,” she added.

9

As Mr. Peach Gallagher got to work, the energy in the shop shifted in some subtle way. Silhouetted by the light through the front display window, he moved with a curious grace, reaching and measuring, searching for flaws. Natalie kept catching herself sneaking looks at his faded jeans and tight black T-shirt, baseball cap, ponytail, and big, battered hands. And—it had to be said—the physique of David. The hammer for hire.

When he noticed her staring, he looked back with something a bit warmer than friendship, which she didn’t much like. He had a wife and kid.

Maybe she was reading it wrong. Maybe he was being nice because she’d had a breakdown on the sidewalk this morning. He probably hadn’t expected to start his day like that, but he’d taken it in stride. In fact, he seemed to be a pretty good listener. For a guy. For a hammer for hire.

After making an inspection of the moldy wall, Peach motioned her over. “I think I found your problem.”

He’d placed a drop cloth on the floor to catch the loose plaster. The exposed horizontal laths spanned the hole like a set of broken ribs. He’d cut away several of the wood strips to reveal a cracked pipe. “There are three things that are the enemies of an old building—human beings, fire, and water. You’ve got some water damage here.”

She inspected the mineral-crusted pipe. “A leak,” she said. “I suppose that’s bad.”

“Definitely not good.”

“Do I need to call a plumber?”

He shot her a wounded look. “Please.” He stuck his hand into the wall and groped around. “I’ll need to find a shut-off valve. You might have to do without water while I investigate. Could be—Hello.”

“Now what?” She leaned over his shoulder while he groped around some more.

“There’s something else in here.”

She took a step back. “Is it alive?”

“You do seem to have a rat problem.”

“How can I have a rat problem? I have a cat.” She shot a glance at Sylvia. “Lazy old thing.”