Shreds of daylight poured in through the slatted blinds and fell in a criss-cross pattern upon the bed and the face of the woman who occupied it. Christy groaned and rolled over. Reluctantly she traded the warm goose down comforter for cold bathroom tiles.

As she went about the task of washing her face and combing her hair, she paid scant attention to the woman reflected in the mirror. A face and body that other women would kill for, Christy took for granted. To her it was just a face she has seen for thirty two years. The green, slightly tilted green eyes, the flawless complexion without a sign of a line or wrinkle, the small even white teeth and the heart shaped full lips were, to her just ordinary and average. The perfect muscle tone of her body and the absence of even an ounce of excess fat did not even register in her mind. In fact, Christy had never realized her beauty. She had no idea that in the past few years she had grown even more beautiful. She finished brushing the abundance of chestnut colored hair back from her face and secured it with a banana clip, then pulled on a pair of jeans and one of her father’s old work shirts and padded barefoot out to the kitchen.

After the coffee perked, Christy carried her cup over to the large bay window and stood with her hands cupped around the steaming mug, and stared out at the lawn, still damp with dew. This had been one of the mildest winters on record. Now signs of Spring were everywhere. The Forsythia was beginning to bud out and the Tulip tree in one corner of the yard was covered with pale pink blossoms. Around the chimney the Jonquils nodded in the early morning breeze. As she sipped her coffee, Christy marveled that it was the last week in March. What happened to January and February? They had slipped by without her even realizing it. Life seemed to be speeding by in a haze of work and worry and stacks of unpaid bills. She wondered vaguely how different her life would have been had she married someone other than Kyle.

Suddenly she laughed - a dry sound without mirth. Her mother’s favorite saying came into her mind. “Some are born to serve, others are born to be served, and then there are those who are born to serve themselves.” Christy supposed that she was one of the chosen few, born to serve herself. Like her parents, she was destined to scrape by, one day at a time, with hard work and determination her only means of survival.

Not one to indulge in self-pity for more than a fleeting moment, Christy squared her shoulders and went out to the kitchen, set her coffee mug on the sink and ran water in last night’s dishes. Soon she was humming a tune to herself as she plunged her hands into the lemon scented suds. She washed and dried the dishes, then pulled the plug from the drain. The water swirled and gurgled and she felt the warm suds splash onto her bare feet. She looked down and watched as the water spread across the worn linoleum.

“Oh Crap! Not the drain again!” Cursing and muttering, she mopped up the water, then went to the basement and brought up the old wooden tool box that had belonged to her dad. How often had she sat at his feet, handing him the tools as he repaired a leaky faucet, a broken pipe, or while he rebuilt or repaired almost everything in the old house. Now she was glad that she had. He had taught her how to use each of the tools and how to do minor repairs. He said a woman should be taught to function in places other than just the kitchen.

She smiled to herself. He had no idea at the time just how valuable his philosophy would turn out to be. She rolled up her sleeves and slid her upper body beneath the sink. She knew what the problem was before she even looked. The trap on the drain had come loose again. She had just shoved the coupling back upon the pipe and given it a vicious twist when she heard someone at the back door. She figured it was Barbie, coming for coffee and to give a play-by-play of her date last night with Charlie.

“Come on in” she yelled. “I’m under the sink.”

She heard Barbie’s footsteps cross the kitchen and she laughed. “In case you’re wondering why I’m lying here under the sink like road-kill, it’s this blasted drain. The flippin’ thing came apart again this morning.”

Christy stopped and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “I swear, sometimes I don’t know why I don’t just sell this crummy rat hole and move into an apartment. I mean, anyone with half a brain can see that the whole structure is falling down, a piece at a time. Will you hand me that wrench, Barbie…”

The pipe wrench appeared under the sink, cradled in a large brown hand that definitely wasn’t Barbie’s.

“Who the…” Christy raised up and banged her head against the pipes and immediately spewed out some choice colorful words. Lying flat on her back, all she could see was a pair of dusty brown work boots and a pair of denim clad legs. The strong hands appeared again and pulled Christy from beneath the sink. He helped her to her feet and when she looked up her eyes locked with the now familiar brown ones of David Anderson.

He was trying to hold back his mirth as he looked at her tousled hair, the wet shirt, and the flush that had turned her face to a bright pink. Obviously she had been expecting someone else.

“I think you might grow up to be a first rate plumber,” he said. “You’ve certainly mastered the language.”

“I… I’m sorry about that…the drain came loose and I…was expecting Barbie and I thought…oh gosh! I do have some colorful language sometimes.” She wiped her hands on her jeans and tried to smooth her hair. In her embarrassment she dropped the wrench and it skittered across the floor, barely missing her bare toes by a fraction.

David picked up the wrench and turned it over in his hand. “Mind if I have a look at it? I won’t fit under there as nicely as you, but I am quite adept at fixing broken drains.”

Before Christy could reply, he was on his back and his head had disappeared beneath the sink. The only thing Christy could do was offer him some coffee.

“Thanks, I’d love some. Cream, no sugar.”

By the time Christy poured the coffee, and set out a plate of day-old doughnuts, David was rising to his feet. “There, it’s all fixed. You shouldn’t have any more trouble with it.”

Christy thanked him and they seated themselves at the small kitchen table. She watched him from beneath her lashes. There was something quite sensual about the way his perfect white teeth tore into the soft flesh of the doughnut. She shivered. The glaze made his full lips shiny and suddenly Christy found it hard to breathe.

David licked the sugar from his lips and smiled. “Besides plumbing and crashing into pick-ups, what else do you do, Christy?”

“I work at Newmon. I’ve been there for the past twelve years.” She raised her coffee cup to her lips and sipped the steaming liquid. He was studying her face as she talked. “I guess I’m luckier than most, I mean with all the factory closings and the economy the way it is.”

“Christy, can I ask you a personal question?” He was still studying her face

“I suppose.”

“If there is no Mr. Morgan, why are you wearing a wedding band?”

Christy looked down at her hand. The gold band glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the window above the table. Suddenly, Christy found herself telling David all about her life with Kyle. He listened attentively, asking a question now and then.

“…and I just never got around to filing for a divorce,” she finished. “Besides, whenever I do decide to go out, the wedding band sort of discourages any unwanted attention.”

David was looking at her, his eyes a warm inquisitive brown. “Does that mean you don’t have anyone special in your life right now?”

“No, I don’t have anyone special,” Christy’s statement was flat.

“I lived with a woman up until about a year ago,” David admitted. “She met someone who had more money and moved on.’ There was no trace of bitterness in his voice, only resignation. He picked up another doughnut and broke it in half. “When two people find they don’t have anything in common anymore, then it’s best they part ways. Don’t you agree?”

Christy nodded and David reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He handed it to Christy and their fingers brushed. She was startled by the warmth that radiated from his hand. She wanted to take it in hers and hold it against her face. she longed to rest her head on his broad shoulder and place hot kisses on the strong brown throat rising above the white t-shirt. She wanted…oh Lord. He was waiting for her to look at the paper.

She unfolded the paper with hands that trembled, as much from her feelings toward the man sitting opposite the table as from the dreaded anticipation of the contents. The paper contained a list of expenses for the repair of his truck. At the bottom, the $200 figure leapt out at her. She heaved a relieved sigh. To her, two-hundred dollars was a fortune, and yet she had expected the bill to run in the thousands.

If you can’t pay it all now, I’ll settle on twenty-five dollars a week and dinner here each Saturday for the next two months.

“David, I don’t…I mean I can’t ask you to…” Christy stammered.

“I think it would be a fair deal for me,” David answered.

“Just what do you mean by a fair deal, David?” Christy asked. Suddenly she was angry. Did he think she would sleep with him to avoid paying him all the money?

David seemed to read her thoughts. He moved toward her and cupped her small chin in his big work roughened hand. “Christy, I didn’t mean that as an insult. I wasn’t suggesting anything else. I really meant dinner here, nothing more. I hate my cooking and I don’t like eating alone. I promise I didn’t mean anything like what you were thinking.”

Christy was embarrassed. “I’m sorry, David. I misunderstood.” she mumbled. “It’s just that most men expect things from a woman who is divorced and alone… they think my body is up for grabs…”

David spoke softly, “I’m not most men, Christy.”

He bent his forward and Christy expected to feel his lips on hers but instead he brushed a kiss across her forehead, then turned abruptly toward the door. He paused with his hand on the door knob. “I’ll be back at seven tonight for the first installment,” His eyes twinkled. “twenty five bucks and dinner, nothing else.”

Christy couldn’t help but smile. “How’s spaghetti sound?”

“Love it! I’ll bring the wine.” His large frame filled the doorway, then he was gone.

Christy sank into a chair and folded her arms on the kitchen table and stared out the window, seeing nothing at all. She was still sitting in that same position twenty minutes later when Barbie came in the back door.

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