Read Online Color of Loneliness by Madeleine Beckett - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeleine Beckett
Tags: Romance
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for local contractors. Three names pop up including his. Dialing the number for the first one, she gets a recorded message so she hangs up. She dials the second number.
“Smith Contractors,” an older woman’s voice says.
“Yeah, I wanted to see about getting an estimate.”
“Sure. I can have someone come out the end of next week.”
Myra sighs but goes ahead and gives the lady her information anyway and schedules the appointment.
* * *
Picking up the coffee pot, Myra moves to the sink to make another pot. As she steps onto the rug, a curse slips from her lips when she gets hit with the sensation of wetness on her socked feet. Looking down, her lip curls as she lifts her foot and stares at the bottom of it. Setting the coffee pot down, she kneels and her brows pull together when she picks up the soaked rug. Opening the cabinet below the sink, her mouth drops open as she stares at the mess in front of her.
Moving stuff around so she can get a better look, she finally determines that the box of dishwasher soap she stuck under the sink earlier must have hit the old, rusted-out metal drain pipe, creating a huge, gaping hole at the bottom of it. So every time she turned the water on, instead it draining through the pipes, the water drained straight into the bottom of the cabinet and leaked out onto the floor. She cringes as she looks at the nasty, greasy water sitting there full of food bits. Her trash bags, zip locks, and cleaning supplies that she stores under the sink are all soaked.
Myra stands with her hands on her hips, just staring and shaking her head.
Slowly, she removes her wet socks and holds them by her fingertips. Heading upstairs to her bedroom, she tosses them in the hamper and sighs as she grabs all of her freshly laundered towels. Stomping back downstairs to the kitchen, she starts dragging everything out from underneath the sink, wiping and cleaning as she goes. After drying everything and setting it to the side, she cleans up all of the water under the sink.
“Well, at least I have water,” she says out loud to herself. Grabbing the coffee pot, she sticks it under the faucet and turns it on. She frowns when she hears a loud burp, some popping sounds, a gurgle and then silence. Her mouth drops open. Angrily, she yanks the faucet handle up and down repeatedly and beats on it a couple of times for good measure.
“I can’t believe this,” she shouts. Running down the hallway, she flips the faucet on in the bathroom. No water. Hightailing it upstairs, she tries the faucet in the bathroom sink and the shower. She gets nothing but more burps and popping noises.
Walking slowly down the stairs with her head bowed and her shoulders sagging, she makes her way back to the kitchen where she slumps into a chair and stares at her phone. Finally, she picks it up and dials a number.
“Lawson,” his deep voice answers.
“This is Myra Sommers.”
“Yeah?” he grunts in response.
“I read over the estimate. When can you start?” she asks before biting on her thumbnail.
CHAPTER 5
PURPLE, ANXIETY
“I need caffeine,” Myra shouts with her fists clenched tight at her sides as she shoots a glaring glance at her non-functioning sink. Frantically, she rushes to the refrigerator and yanks open the door searching for water, but she comes up empty-handed. After some more scrambling through Grampie’s pantry, she can’t find a single drop of drinkable water in the house.
Mumbling a stream of curses under her breath, she plops down at the kitchen table and drops her head into her hands. Never has she been this angry in her entire life. But she knows her anger isn’t just from not having coffee.
With a sigh, she finally gets up in search of her hat and coat.
Still mumbling under her breath, Myra heads out to her garage and within minutes, she pulls her car into the parking lot of Marshall’s Grocery. Huffing as she grabs a cart, she quickly makes her way down the aisle, and lugs four giant,
“Smith Contractors,” an older woman’s voice says.
“Yeah, I wanted to see about getting an estimate.”
“Sure. I can have someone come out the end of next week.”
Myra sighs but goes ahead and gives the lady her information anyway and schedules the appointment.
* * *
Picking up the coffee pot, Myra moves to the sink to make another pot. As she steps onto the rug, a curse slips from her lips when she gets hit with the sensation of wetness on her socked feet. Looking down, her lip curls as she lifts her foot and stares at the bottom of it. Setting the coffee pot down, she kneels and her brows pull together when she picks up the soaked rug. Opening the cabinet below the sink, her mouth drops open as she stares at the mess in front of her.
Moving stuff around so she can get a better look, she finally determines that the box of dishwasher soap she stuck under the sink earlier must have hit the old, rusted-out metal drain pipe, creating a huge, gaping hole at the bottom of it. So every time she turned the water on, instead it draining through the pipes, the water drained straight into the bottom of the cabinet and leaked out onto the floor. She cringes as she looks at the nasty, greasy water sitting there full of food bits. Her trash bags, zip locks, and cleaning supplies that she stores under the sink are all soaked.
Myra stands with her hands on her hips, just staring and shaking her head.
Slowly, she removes her wet socks and holds them by her fingertips. Heading upstairs to her bedroom, she tosses them in the hamper and sighs as she grabs all of her freshly laundered towels. Stomping back downstairs to the kitchen, she starts dragging everything out from underneath the sink, wiping and cleaning as she goes. After drying everything and setting it to the side, she cleans up all of the water under the sink.
“Well, at least I have water,” she says out loud to herself. Grabbing the coffee pot, she sticks it under the faucet and turns it on. She frowns when she hears a loud burp, some popping sounds, a gurgle and then silence. Her mouth drops open. Angrily, she yanks the faucet handle up and down repeatedly and beats on it a couple of times for good measure.
“I can’t believe this,” she shouts. Running down the hallway, she flips the faucet on in the bathroom. No water. Hightailing it upstairs, she tries the faucet in the bathroom sink and the shower. She gets nothing but more burps and popping noises.
Walking slowly down the stairs with her head bowed and her shoulders sagging, she makes her way back to the kitchen where she slumps into a chair and stares at her phone. Finally, she picks it up and dials a number.
“Lawson,” his deep voice answers.
“This is Myra Sommers.”
“Yeah?” he grunts in response.
“I read over the estimate. When can you start?” she asks before biting on her thumbnail.
CHAPTER 5
PURPLE, ANXIETY
“I need caffeine,” Myra shouts with her fists clenched tight at her sides as she shoots a glaring glance at her non-functioning sink. Frantically, she rushes to the refrigerator and yanks open the door searching for water, but she comes up empty-handed. After some more scrambling through Grampie’s pantry, she can’t find a single drop of drinkable water in the house.
Mumbling a stream of curses under her breath, she plops down at the kitchen table and drops her head into her hands. Never has she been this angry in her entire life. But she knows her anger isn’t just from not having coffee.
With a sigh, she finally gets up in search of her hat and coat.
Still mumbling under her breath, Myra heads out to her garage and within minutes, she pulls her car into the parking lot of Marshall’s Grocery. Huffing as she grabs a cart, she quickly makes her way down the aisle, and lugs four giant,
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