“Your broker sounds like a toxic beast. I don’t get why you work for somebody like that,” Ivy commented, reluctantly finding empathy for him.

“She’s demanding, that’s for sure,” Ezra agreed. “But I gotta admit she doesn’t expect any more of me than she expects of herself. It’s funny that you should say that, because she actually wants to meet you.”

“Me? Why?”

Long silence at the other end of the line. “In the middle of everything yesterday, when things were getting pretty tense, I, uh, might have told her that, uh, I’ve met somebody I want to spend more time with.”

Ivy was taken aback by his answer. “Why would you tell your broker about us?” she demanded.

“Can I just explain tonight? You’re still going to let me take you to dinner before the Christmas Stroll, right?”

Ivy felt her resolve melting. It was time to get tough.

“I can’t have dinner early, because I made a commitment to Phoebe. But I could do it later. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“My hot-water heater quit this morning. And I know this time it’s not just the propane. It’s dead. Kaput. I’m supposed to help Nancy Bergstrom with her booth during the stroll tonight, and I cannot show my face there with janky hair.”

“Ohhhhhh.” He let the word hang there.

“Do you happen to know where I can get a hot-water heater? And someone who can install it? Before tonight?”

“No promises this time,” Ezra said. “But I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you later today. No matter what.”

The black Jeep pulled into the driveway an hour later, followed by a battered white van. By the time Ivy got to the door, Ezra and another man were jockeying a new hot-water heater up the porch steps.

“That was fast,” Ivy commented, holding the door open to allow them to enter.

“Ivy Perkins, meet Ronnie Cahill,” Ezra said.

The plumber was middle-aged, with a stout beer belly and a graying beard. He favored her with a curt nod. “Hey. Where’s the basement at? I got a backed-up toilet at the senior center after this.”

“Right this way,” she said. Just before descending into the basement with Cahill, Ezra leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’m supposed to tell you it’ll be five hundred dollars. No credit card, no checks, no questions. Cash only.”

“Guess I’ll be making a run to the ATM in town,” Ivy said. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Ezra.”

As the van backed out of the driveway two hours later, Ivy was in the kitchen, turning on the tap. When the water gradually turned warm, then hot, she gave a happy, contented sigh before turning her attention back to Ezra.

“How did you get Ronnie Cahill here on such short notice? Phoebe told me about him, but she said he was impossible to reach on short notice, because he works for the county.”

“Let’s just say Ronnie and I have an understanding,” Ezra said. “I helped a friend of his find a new, cheaper house on the other side of town. Instead of his paying me a commission, we traded out for plumbing. And emergency plumbing services.”