Chapter 5: The Estimate
The first repair estimate was twenty-seven thousand dollars.
The water had reached the subfloor, damaged electrical outlets, and seeped beneath two cabinets.
Our insurer required an independent assessment before approving major reconstruction.
The restoration company removed the baseboards Ellen had chosen and stacked them against the porch wall.
I watched one worker carry out a warped kitchen drawer, and I had to step outside.
I could fix most broken furniture.
I could not repair a morning that had never been allowed to happen.
Hannah came home from school to find the kitchen divided by plastic sheeting.
She tried to act cheerful until she saw the pencil marks on the discarded pantry panel.
Then she sat on the stairs and cried.
I sat beside her without pretending the damage was only material.
Across the street, a teenager named Isaac Doyle had seen the police car and asked what happened.
His mother, Priya, brought us dinner that night.
She said Valerie had been telling people I was exaggerating a minor leak to collect insurance money.
I laughed once because the accusation was so absurd.
Then I realized it might become the second version of events people heard before they heard mine.
Priya put her hand on the casserole dish.
“I don’t believe her,” she said.
I thanked her and asked why.
“Because she keeps asking who has footage of the street.”
That detail stayed with me after Priya went home.
Valerie had asked about the grocery store recording.
Now she wanted to know which houses had security cameras.
The connection seemed obvious, but the motive did not.
Why would a woman afraid of a parking-lot recording damage the plumbing of a neighbor who had saved her grandson?
The answer arrived in a conversation I was never supposed to hear.
