He handed her the duck, now rinsed and almost cheerful-looking. “No charge for the toy rescue,” he said. “The clog, though… that’s a hundred and forty.”
The water sat in the sink like a dark, glossy eye, refusing to blink. For three days, Emily had waged war on the clogged drain in her Ellerslie bungalow—plunger, baking soda, vinegar, even a muttered curse in the direction of the plumbing gods. Nothing worked. clogged drains ellerslie
Emily called at 7:13 p.m. Pete answered on the second ring. He handed her the duck, now rinsed and