The Heart of a Hero by Barbara Wallace

moved yourself to East God-knows-where—”
    “Naushatucket.”
    “Whatever. You leaving the city means I have to start my browbeating extra early.”
    “Relax, Brunhilda, I still have two days.”
    “No, you have nine hours. Today’s Wednesday, remember?”
    “Crap.” Panic replaced sleepiness and Zoe sat up straight.
    “You forgot, didn’t you?” Caroline said.
    “I was busy with some house problems. I got distracted.”
    “House problems? Told you moving to nowhere was a mistake.”
    “You know, people in cities have house problems, too,” Zoe replied. “It’s what happens when you buy a house. Regardless, it’s no big deal. I hired a handyman.” A handyman whose extreme reactions and anguished expression had distracted her far more than anything else last night. Including Paul, she realized with a frown.
    Don’t ever use that word to describe me. The achein her heart that kept her up half the night started up again.
    Meanwhile, on the other end of the phone, she could practically hear Caroline smirking over her latte. “Still upset I called so early?”
    “Sadly, no.” Truth was, for all her browbeating, Caroline was worth her weight in gold. During the worst days of her separation, when she was finding out more and more about Paul’s infidelities, Caroline had also been her rock, patiently listening while she ranted and raved about the evils of falling in love with the people you’re trying to help. “I’m glad one of us is on top of things.”
    “Okay, that doesn’t sound good. What happened? I thought hiding out was supposed to get you back on your game.”
    “So did I.” Zoe sighed.
    “Give yourself time. It’s only been a couple of days. Bet you’re not even unpacked yet, are you?”
    “Almost. I ran into a few home repair issues.” Briefly she explained, ending with the story about the bats. “Now I’ve got these bat nets or whatever they are hanging off my roof. Jake said he’ll check them for critters this morning.”
    “Jake?”
    “The handyman I hired.”
    “Oh, right. I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis.”
    “This is a small island. Everyone’s on a first-name basis.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Again, Zoe could hear the smirk, this time accompanied by a healthy dose of innuendo. “For crying out loud, the ink’s barely dry on my divorce. Last thing I’m interested in is another relationship. Besides, this guy’s not exactly ‘relatable,’ if you know what I mean.”
    “He doesn’t like girls?”
    “He doesn’t like people in general, I don’t think.” Saying the words brought a lump of sadness to her stomach. “He’s got baggage.” Too much baggage for one man to carry, she suspected.
    “Uh-oh. Sounds like somebody’s found a new project.”
    If only. “He’s not looking for help, Caroline. In fact, the exact opposite,” she added in a low voice. “I can’t explain it, but I almost think he wants to suffer.” Don’t ever use that word to describe me. “He’s punishing himself for something, only I don’t know what.”
    “Let me guess. You’re the only person who can understand him.” More than a little sarcasm laced Caroline’s voice. Zoe’d used that very line dozens of times when defending Paul.
    “It’s nothing like that,” she replied. “And remember, friend or not, you can still be fired.”
    “No, I can’t—your career would fall apart without me.”
    True, though she didn’t need to sound so smug.
    “Getting back to this handyman,” Caroline continued. “Is he cute?”
    “I’m not sure cute is the right word.” She thought about how easily he moved around the roof. “More like very masculine.”
    “Nice. Break a pipe, then send me a photo of him in a wet T-shirt.”
    “Very funny. Seriously, this guy has some major issues. It’s hard not to wonder what caused them.”
    “Well, while you’re speculating, make sure you focus on getting that column done. Syndicators get very cranky when the content arrives