“I’m so sorry,” the figure on my roof said, “I slipped.”

No, not a guardian angel or my dream lover; it was Handyman Bill. I’d forgotten all about him.

“It’s okay,” I said, handing him his hammer, “no harm done. But maybe it’s a sign …” I smiled to myself at the wording I’d chosen, “that we both need a break.”

I made a pitcher of lemonade and a turkey sandwich and ordered Bill off the roof. It was clear he’d been working all morning. His t-shirt was drenched and clinging to his chest – a rather nice chest, I couldn’t help noticing – and sweat was beading his forehead below the rim of his baseball cap, which he kept on while draining the lemonade.

“How’s it going?” I asked, refilling his glass and handing him a sandwich. I tried to steer him to the table on the porch, but he remained standing.

“Good. I’ve replaced about half the missing tiles. Did all these tiles come off in the last rain?”

“No, some were damaged in that storm last fall. You must remember it – that big ice storm the day before Thanksgiving?” Of course I remembered it only too well. The storm had been a result of my first attempt to banish the incubus. He had become enraged and lashed back with hundred-mile-an-hour winds that snapped trees like twigs, took down power lines, and incapacitated the town for a week.

“Oh, that storm. I was … out of town for that.”

“Lucky you,” I said, determined not to pry into my handyman’s private life. “It did a lot of damage. The town’s still recovering … Of course, I guess that’s good for you. There’s plenty of work.”

“I’m grateful for the work, but I don’t like to think it comes at the expense of other people’s bad fortune,” Bill said gravely. “I’m just glad I can fix some of it.”

“Oh well, I guess there’s not much you can do about bad weather …” I faltered and looked away, recalling that I’d been the unwitting cause of the last two storms and all the damage they’d caused – including the human damage. I looked back at Bill and saw him staring at me. He probably thought I was nuts. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here to fix the roof now.”

“Me, too,” he said, handing me his empty glass and plate. “I’d better get back to it … unless the noise is bothering your … writing … or researching … uh … or other college professor stuff.”