The Taming of the Bachelor Read Online Free Page A

it right back, and she would.
    As soon as she got the toilet working.
    And she’d do that, too. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a toilet. Not death, or disease. At least she had plumbing. Something she was grateful for. Could you imagine having to deal without indoor plumbing? Imagine having to rely on an outhouse? Horrible.
    So she counted her blessings. Thank you, God, for my house. Thank you, God, for clean water and sanitation. Thank you for my children, and the fact that they are healthy.
    She gave the wooden dowel a vigorous push with each blessing.
    Things could be so much worse. Compared to most, she was in good shape. She had kids, friends, a job, and a home. So what if the house had rotten floorboards, drafty windows, and a temperamental antiquated furnace that blasted hot air on warm days and no heat on frigid days?
    At least there were floorboards and windows and a furnace.
    At least she owned a home....even if dilapidated. Most people had no idea that her handsome 1893 Queen Anne on Bramble Lane was a disaster. Heck, she hadn’t even known the handsome house was a disaster when she plunked down her life savings for it.
    She knew better now, but they were surviving.
    The kids were healthy.
    They were relatively happy.
    It could be so much worse. They could be dealing with truly awful things. Death, hunger, famine.
    Even bigger taxes.
    A clogged toilet on a Saturday morning was nothing. Nothing .
    The phone rang again, and Paige inched towards the sink, trying to see the number of her phone. It was Flo, from the diner.
    Paige chewed her lip. Not good. Flo had worked at the diner forever and wouldn’t call for anything less than an emergency, especially on a Saturday morning before eight. She’d need to take the call.
    Paige lifted the plunger, carefully setting it down even as the toilet made a strange keening sound.
    Or was that sound coming from below the toilet...down below the floor?
    Paige listened more closely. For a moment all was silent. Nothing happened. And then suddenly the water was draining from the porcelain bowl, the muddy water making a rapid retreat, swiftly disappearing down, until it drained out with an obscene sucking noise.
    Holding her breath, Paige gingerly leaned forward to look into the toilet. There was nothing left. The water was gone, the bowl totally empty.
    For a second she didn’t know what to feel. Was it okay? Had she fixed it? It’d be such a relief if she had. Money was tight, credit cards still full after Christmas.
    Maybe she was doing okay.
    Maybe this single mom gig wasn’t so bad.
    Maybe living in a small town in the middle of nowhere Montana wasn’t such a bad thing.
    But if the toilet was okay, why wasn’t there any water? Shouldn’t the bowl automatically refill?
    Paige leaned over the empty bowl, jiggled the handle, and then flushed to try to encourage the water tank to fill the bowl. For a second nothing happened. And then the toilet exploded, shooting filthy water and waste straight up, a geyser of sewage from the bottom of the bowl.
    Paige jumped away, barely escaping the shower as dirty water sprayed in a wide arc across the fragile Victorian wallpaper. She’d loved the house for its authentic period detail—much of it still original—which is of course why nothing in the house worked.
    Her phone began to ring. Again. Shaking, she answered the phone. “Yes, Flo?”
    “Sorry to call so early.”
    “It’s okay. I was up. What’s going on?”
    “Candace never came in. And it’s bad down here. We’re slammed. People are complaining....asking for you.”
    Paige closed her eyes, held her breath, picturing her kids in bed. Picturing having to wake them and drag them into the diner. “Have you tried any of the other girls?”
    “All of them. No one is answering their phone this morning.”
    Because nobody wanted to be out of bed this early on a Saturday. Paige ground down on her back molars, frustrated. She needed a break. A big break.
    Her