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brightened, and she gave me a dazzling smile. Whatever she was selling, I decided, I wasn’t buying. “Why don’t you ask him at dinner on Monday?”
    Barry had disappeared. I could hear rustling near the back door, and I realized he was fiddling with the water heater, in what he called a service porch. Coward!
    “Georgie?” he called to me. “I need you to give me a hand with this water heater.”
    I shot a glance at my mother. “I better go. If you want the estimate this afternoon, we need to finish up here.”
    She started to say something, but her phone rang, and I beat a retreat as she switched to business mode. “Sandra Neverall here. How can I help you?”
    Barry was doing just fine with the water heater, and he grinned at me. “You owe me, Neverall,” he said softly.
    I grinned back. “I’d offer you my firstborn, but you’d have to settle for an Airedale.”
    He shook his head. “Paula has her heart set on a Jack Russell.” He stopped to scribble in his notebook.
    “And you said ‘never,’ as I recall.”
    “Yeah, but her birthday’s coming . . .”
    I laughed. For all his bluster, Barry was devoted to Paula, and if she wanted a Jack Russell, she’d get one.
    I heard Sandra end her phone call, her voice sharp with annoyance. Her heels tapped across the kitchen floor, and she peered through the door to where Barry and I crouched at the base of the water heater.
    “I have to go. Some problem with a contractor at the Commons, and nobody else seems capable of dealing with it.
    “Barry, I’ll have that report on my desk this afternoon, right?” She made it a question, though we all knew it was a command.
    “Right,” Barry answered.
    She left without a good-bye, dismissing us with a vague wave of her hand. A couple minutes later, we heard
the deep-throated rumble of her Escalade pulling out of the drive.
    As the sound of her engine faded, my stomach rumbled, and I glanced at my watch. It was nearly one, and breakfast was a distant memory.
    Barry caught the gesture, and copied it. He sighed when he saw how late it was. “I think I’ve got enough to go on,” he said. “I need to get back to the office and do the estimate for Whitlock.”
    “All right if I take lunch?” I asked.
    Barry waved. “Go on. I know your guys need to be let out, and you want to swing by and talk to Paula. Just don’t mention the Jack Russell.”
    “And after lunch? I can’t work here without a journeyman, and you’ll be in the office.” Being an apprentice had its drawbacks, and one of them was the need for constant supervision. I chafed under the restriction, but I had to abide by the rules if I ever wanted to earn my certification.
    Barry thought for a minute, then flipped a few pages in his notebook. “The McComb job,” he said. “Tell Sean he’s got an extra pair of hands for the afternoon.”
    “Will do.”
    I grabbed my jacket and hurried to the Beetle. Time to get home while my carpet was still pristine. Daisy and Buddha were well trained, but they would need to go out soon. Or else.
    I tried to ignore the fact that my Friday afternoon was going to be spent on the McComb job.
    Chad and Astrid McComb were prime examples of a uniquely Northwest species, the Microsoft millionaire. They were young, brilliant professionals who had taken a chance on an upstart company when Redmond had been little more than a sleepy bedroom community of Seattle, and their dedication had paid off handsomely.
    They had retired in their forties, with enough money to do whatever they wanted.

    What Chad and Astrid wanted was a castle. Not just a castle, but one with a moat. Which was where Hickey & Hickey Plumbing came in.
    The McCombs bought their acreage well outside the influence of zoning boards and urban growth boundaries, they hired local contractors, and they paid their bills on time and without complaint. As eccentric millionaires went, they were good ones.
    Digging a moat, though, was a hard, dirty job. Sean had a fleet