“Lord, give me strength,” Zoey muttered as she pulled away from the curb. There were times when she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or ground the kid.

Her first service call was at a waterfront property past Brady College. It was a new client for Hartford Fix-It, but it sounded like an easy enough job—a sink disposal wasn’t working. Probably a clog—her guess was potato skins, but sometimes shrimp shells could cause the same problem. Both tended to congeal and get hung up in the trap below the disposal if it wasn’t flushed out with enough water.

She was a little surprised they hadn’t called a plumber, until she noted the address—next door to her godmother Vickie Pendergast’s home. Odds were Vickie had strong-armed her neighbor into using Hartford’s Fix-It. Vickie was a force of nature, and one of Zoey’s most ardent word-of-mouth advertisers in Rendezvous Falls.

She turned onto Main Street, noting the summer flower baskets had been hung on the old-fashioned lampposts. The downtown committee had clearly been busy getting the town ready for tourist season. It seemed a little early for the petunias and geraniums to appear. May was the start of the greening and blooming season, but snow—or at least frost—was still a real possibility. Upstate New York weather wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Evie Hudson was sweeping the sidewalk in front of her family’s diner, The Spot. Her newborn daughter, Evelyn, was strapped to her chest in a canvas carrier. Zoey tapped her horn and waved. Maybe she’d have time for a quick lunch later. Evie and her mom always had the best gossip.

A few minutes later, she parked the truck in front of a large, modern waterfront home. She grimaced at all the glass and stark edges. This stretch of Lake Road was more upscale than most neighborhoods in Rendezvous Falls, and the Victorian homes were closer to being actual mansions than the houses in town. But sometimes people bought them just for the waterfront property, and if they weren’t from Rendezvous Falls—or had no appreciation for the style that made the town famous—they tore down the grand old home that stood there originally and built new. In this case, they’d built new-new. Modern new. No character new. Ugly new.

The stocky, bald man who answered the door seemed surprised. She’d been doing this long enough to recognize the look. Someone clearly wasn’t expecting a woman repairperson. She plastered on her brightest smile.

“Hi! I’m Zoey Hartford. I’m here to look at a disposal?”

The man’s mouth opened, then snapped shut before he finally spoke. “I’m Jack Nelson. You’re the repairman?”

No, I’m his secretary...