In short order, I find that snaking the toilet doesn’t work, so the toilet’s going to have to come out. With the snake, I can feel where the toy is wedged just inside the pipe but can’t dislodge or retrieve it.

She brings me garbage bags and old towels to lay on the floor to put the toilet on after I get the tank emptied. Twenty minutes later, Captain Toilet Stopper is minus both his arms but I finally persuaded him to release his tenacious hold.

Kelly sadly laughs as she holds the small wastebasket for me to drop the toy into. “I’ll have to buy him another one.” She groans. “And get his brother a new game controller. Iggy didn’t mean to break it—he stepped on it accidentally. Billy left it on the floor.”

“How much do they cost?”

“Oh, no. You’re doing way too much already. I’ll make Billy work extra chores to earn the money for it.” She shakes her head. “He has to learn the value of money. God knows his father apparently doesn’t.”

Another twenty minutes later, her toilet is in place and working perfectly, and I can wash up. I’ll grab another quick shower at home before heading back to work.

When she tries to hand me two twenties, I refuse to take them and instead point at the five I see in her wallet. “That’s all. For the wax ring.” It’s actually more than five dollars, but I’ll pay for it with my credit card and give myself the employee discount, so it’ll work out about right with sales tax.

Her jaw gapes. “Tommy, you can’t be serious? Please, that was a lot of work!”

“It was a quick fix. I’m glad I could help.” She hands me the five and reluctantly tucks the other bills back into her wallet. “Feel free to bring Billy over to my place any evening to sweep my front porch and sidewalk, or to pull weeds, if you want to torture him.”

This time, her laughter quickly turns to tears and she throws her arms around me in a hug I don’t know how to process, at first. It feels…weird hugging someone like this. I’m not much of a hugger.

Not since he left.

Finally forcing myself to hug her back, I hold her as she cries. “Thank you so much, Tommy,” she sniffles after a moment. “I really owe you big time.”

“It’s okay. Like I said, glad I could help.”

Then, as if she realizes what she’s doing, she quickly disengages and steps back, wiping at her face. “Sorry. I’m a wreck.” She takes a deep breath. “Does he ever…call or visit?”

I know who she means. “He’s got a busy life.” I manage a smile, my own wall going up like a force field. “We’re still friends. It’s just one of those things. Different goals.” I’m loathe to tell her even that much but Kelly doesn’t gossip. Ever.

Much to the consternation of nearly everyone in Edith’s book club and most of the Methodist women’s group.

I quickly gather my things and head back home so I can shower and change. Maybe the fact that I still can’t bring myself to outright tell people Desi and I broke up, and I haven’t talked to him in over six months, or laid eyes on him since way longer than that, is something I really should talk about with a counselor.

I didn’t want people bad-mouthing Desi. I love the damned guy, for starters. Not to mention I hoped he’d come back. When he did, I didn’t want people hating on him. I thought for sure he’d miss Maudlin Falls and want to live here forever.

With me.

He could be a lawyer anywhere. I couldn’t walk away from the store, the community. I thought he understood that. I thought the few times I did visit him would make him realize how much he loved and missed me when we weren’t together.

The way I missed him.

Guess there were a lot of things I got wrong about me and Desiderio Keiser.

Besides, technically, we didn’t break up. Not…really. Not officially.

I really should e-mail him. I eventually stopped texting with him, or initiating phone calls, thinking he would pick up the threads and stay in communication with me, but…

Yeah.

I’m an idiot, I suppose.

Maybe I should hit book club tonight.

I let myself into my garage through the side door and put my tools away. When I walk into the kitchen, Jester greets me at the door with a scolding maow.

And the jar of peanut butter sits upside down on the floor in front of the sink.

“How the heck did you even get that out of the pantry?”

“Maow!”

The pantry door stands open, and he managed to knock a couple of cans of soup out and onto the floor in his mission to attack the peanut butter.

“Duuuude.” I grab the peanut butter and walk over to put things right, firmly closing the door and testing it. Maybe I didn’t have it closed securely.

I look down at him. “That’ll hold you.”

He purrs at me, twining his orange and white body around my legs.

I love the little dude but he’s apparently incredibly smart. He goes through stages like this, where he fixates on something. Like my toothbrush, or one of my shoes, or my pillow. I can’t keep any plants inside the house, because he goes to war with them and knocks them over.

His latest fetish involves peanut butter. He’s obsessed with it. It started one afternoon about a month ago, when he got hold of my lunch while I was distracted by a phone call from the store. Before I knew it, he had my darned sandwich on the floor and was licking the filling out of it.

Needless to say, I panicked and called the vet.

After Dr. Larresby stopped laughing, he reassured me that Jester wouldn’t be hurt by it, unless he threw up or…otherwise showed signs of an upset stomach.

Which Jester didn’t.

So now my cat and I are engaged in a battle of wits over peanut butter.

The saddest part?

I think my cat is winning.