Updated Apr 19, 2026 • ~13 min read
Chapter 5: Town Scheme #1 – the Pipes
Quinn
Quinn discovers that her bakery’s pipes are mysteriously broken on Monday morning when she arrives at five AM to start the day’s baking and finds water pooling across the kitchen floor in a way that suggests either a plumbing emergency or divine intervention designed specifically to ruin her second week of business.
“No no no no,” Quinn chants as she wades through the water to find the source, her sneakers squelching unpleasantly and her carefully planned morning routine disintegrating before her eyes. “This cannot be happening right now.”
The main pipe under the sink has apparently decided to give up on life entirely, water pouring from what looks like a clean break that Quinn suspects wasn’t nearly as accidental as it appears, and she frantically searches for the water shut-off while trying not to panic about the fact that she has approximately fifty croissants that need to go in the oven in the next hour and absolutely no way to do that with her kitchen flooding.
She finally locates the shut-off valve and stops the water, then stands in her destroyed kitchen assessing the damage and trying to figure out how exactly she’s supposed to fix this when she’s only been in Maplewood for ten days and doesn’t know any local plumbers.
Her phone shows three missed calls from her mother—who’s been calling daily to check if Quinn has “come to her senses” and returned to New York yet—and zero contacts for emergency plumbing services, because Quinn apparently didn’t think to research this before moving to a small town where knowing local service providers is essential.
She’s still standing in the puddle when there’s a knock on the bakery’s back door, and Quinn opens it to find Mabel standing there with two coffees and a concerned expression.
“Saw your lights on early and thought you might need caffeine,” Mabel says, then spots the water and her eyes widen. “Oh honey, what happened?”
“The pipes broke,” Quinn says, accepting the coffee gratefully because caffeine is essential for dealing with disasters. “I don’t suppose you know any plumbers?”
“Only one in town,” Mabel says, pulling out her phone. “Cole Martinez. He runs the garage but he does plumbing too—small town, multiple jobs. Let me call him.”
Quinn sips her coffee while Mabel has a conversation with Cole that seems to involve a lot of meaningful pauses and “mmm-hmm” sounds that suggest there’s subtext Quinn isn’t understanding, and when Mabel hangs up she’s wearing an expression that Quinn has learned to distrust.
“Cole says he can’t get here for three days,” Mabel reports. “He’s backed up with other jobs.”
“Three days?!” Quinn’s voice comes out higher than intended. “I can’t be closed for three days! I just opened!”
“Well,” Mabel says with the kind of casual tone that screams ‘I have an agenda,’ “Cole mentioned that Asher has tools and knows basic plumbing. He could probably fix this in an hour if you asked him.”
Quinn stares at Mabel, recognizing a setup when she hears one, but she’s also standing in a flooded kitchen with a broken pipe and approximately zero other options.
“Asher,” Quinn repeats flatly. “My grumpy neighbor who made it very clear he’s not interested in neighborly interaction.”
“He’s not that bad once you get to know him,” Mabel says cheerfully. “And he does love helping people. It’s the firefighter in him. Can’t resist a damsel in distress.”
“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Quinn protests. “I’m a business owner with a plumbing emergency.”
“Same thing, honey,” Mabel says, patting her arm. “Just go ask. Worst he can say is no.”
Except Quinn suspects the worst he can say is significantly more creative than just “no,” given their track record of interactions, but Mabel is right that she doesn’t have many other options unless she wants to be closed for three days and lose the momentum she’s just started building with the town.
“Fine,” Quinn sighs. “I’ll ask. But if he’s rude about it, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair,” Mabel agrees. “I’ll start mopping while you go grovel to your neighbor.”
Quinn doesn’t appreciate the word “grovel” but she’s too desperate to argue, so she leaves Mabel with the mop and walks across the yard to Asher’s house, rehearsing various ways to ask for help that don’t sound like begging or like she’s giving in to the town’s matchmaking schemes.
It’s barely six AM, which means Asher is probably awake—Quinn’s seen his lights on early when she’s heading to the bakery—but asking for help at dawn feels aggressive in a way that might make him even less inclined to be neighborly.
She knocks anyway, because desperate times and all that.
Asher opens the door looking like he just woke up—which he probably did, based on the sleep-mussed hair and the t-shirt that’s inside out—and his expression cycles through confusion, surprise, and resignation in approximately three seconds.
“Quinn,” he says, and his voice is rough from sleep in a way that Quinn should definitely not find attractive. “It’s six AM.”
“I know,” Quinn says quickly, trying to maintain her dignity while also being aware that she’s probably tracking water across his porch. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my bakery pipes broke and Cole says he can’t fix them for three days and Mabel said you have tools and know plumbing and I really need help because I can’t be closed for three days and I know we’re not exactly friends but we are neighbors and—”
“Slow down,” Asher interrupts, and there’s something almost amused in his expression. “Your pipes broke?”
“Completely,” Quinn confirms. “There’s water everywhere. The kitchen’s flooded. I was supposed to open in three hours and now I can’t because nothing works and I don’t know any other plumbers and I’m sorry to ask but I’m kind of desperate here.”
Asher studies her for a long moment, and Quinn can practically see him weighing his options—help the neighbor and risk getting drawn into exactly the kind of interaction he’s been avoiding, or say no and feel guilty about it because apparently firefighters can’t resist helping people.
“Let me get my tools,” he says finally, and Quinn feels relief flood through her.
“Thank you,” she says sincerely. “I really appreciate this. I can pay you whatever the going rate is—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Asher says, disappearing into his house and returning a minute later with a toolbox and Ruby trailing behind him in pajamas with a stuffed elephant under one arm.
“Quinn!” Ruby says brightly, apparently completely unbothered by the early morning disruption. “Are you broken?”
“My pipes are broken,” Quinn clarifies, smiling at Ruby because it’s impossible not to smile at a six-year-old in dinosaur pajamas. “Your dad’s going to help fix them.”
“Daddy’s really good at fixing things!” Ruby announces proudly. “He fixed my dollhouse when I accidentally sat on it, and he fixes the truck all the time, and one time he fixed the neighbor’s cat when it got stuck in a tree but the cat didn’t say thank you.”
“That was a different neighbor,” Asher says, steering Ruby back toward the house. “And the cat was fine. Go watch cartoons, Ruby-roo. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Can I come help?” Ruby asks hopefully.
“Another time,” Asher promises. “The bakery’s flooded right now. Not safe for helpers.”
Ruby pouts but accepts this logic, and Asher follows Quinn across the yard to Sugar & Spice where Mabel is making impressive progress with the mopping and wearing an expression of barely suppressed glee when she sees Asher.
“Asher Brooks helping a damsel in distress,” Mabel says cheerfully. “How neighborly of you.”
“It’s plumbing, Mabel, not a rescue mission,” Asher says, but there’s fondness in his voice that suggests he’s used to Mabel’s commentary. “Where’s the break?”
Quinn shows him the pipe situation, and Asher spends approximately thirty seconds examining it before making a sound that might be amusement.
“What?” Quinn asks, already suspicious.
“This pipe didn’t break naturally,” Asher says, pointing to the clean edge of the break. “Someone cut it. On purpose.”
Quinn stares at the pipe, then at Asher, then at Mabel who’s suddenly very interested in mopping a corner that doesn’t need mopping.
“Someone sabotaged my bakery?” Quinn asks, and her voice is climbing toward panic again because who would do that and why.
“Not sabotaged,” Asher says carefully. “More like… encouraged you to need help. And coincidentally, the only available help is your neighbor who certain people in this town think you should be spending more time with.”
The implication hits Quinn like cold water.
“Mabel,” Quinn says slowly. “Did Cole break my pipes?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mabel says innocently, but she’s smiling in a way that absolutely confirms Quinn’s suspicion.
“Cole didn’t break them,” Asher says. “He’s not subtle enough for schemes. But I’d bet money that Judy convinced him to ‘discover’ a problem that required cutting the pipe, and then convince you to ask me for help instead of waiting three days.”
“That’s insane,” Quinn protests. “Who does that?!”
“Welcome to Maplewood,” Asher and Mabel say simultaneously, and then both laugh at Quinn’s expression.
“This town is actually insane,” Quinn mutters. “Breaking pipes to force social interaction is not normal matchmaking.”
“It’s effective though,” Mabel points out. “Asher’s here, isn’t he?”
“Asher’s here because I don’t want my new neighbor’s business to fail in the first month,” Asher corrects, but he’s already opening his toolbox and examining the pipe situation with professional efficiency. “Doesn’t mean I approve of Judy’s methods.”
“Should I be expecting more sabotage?” Quinn asks, only half joking, and Asher pauses in his work to look at her with something that might be sympathy.
“Probably,” he admits. “The town’s decided we should be together. They’re going to keep creating situations where we’re forced to interact until we either give in or move away.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Quinn says.
“Agreed,” Asher says. “But it’s also Maplewood. This is what they do.”
He turns back to the pipes, and Quinn watches him work—competent and focused and surprisingly gentle with the old plumbing—while Mabel finishes mopping and hums what sounds suspiciously like wedding march music.
“You’re not helping,” Quinn tells Mabel, who just smiles wider.
Asher fixes the pipe in exactly twenty minutes, testing the connection multiple times to make sure it’s secure before turning the water back on and checking for leaks.
“Should be fine now,” he says, wiping his hands on a towel. “But if you have any other problems, call me before you call Cole. He’s clearly in on whatever scheme Judy’s planning.”
“Thank you,” Quinn says, and she means it genuinely despite the absurdity of the situation. “I really appreciate this. And I’m sorry you got dragged into Judy’s matchmaking.”
“Not your fault,” Asher says, packing up his tools. “Town’s going to town. We just have to survive it.”
There’s a moment where they’re both standing in her kitchen—now significantly less flooded thanks to Mabel’s mopping—and Quinn is struck by how different Asher looks when he’s not actively being grumpy, how his grey eyes soften slightly when he’s not trying to maintain distance, how he’s actually pretty handsome when he’s not scowling.
Not that Quinn cares about whether her neighbor is handsome.
She’s sworn off men and relationships and anything that involves trusting someone with her heart.
But she can objectively notice that Asher Brooks is attractive in a rugged, firefighter way, and that helping her without complaint despite being set up by the entire town is actually pretty decent of him.
“I owe you,” Quinn says finally. “At least let me give you some pastries. Payment for the plumbing and for dealing with Judy’s chaos.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Asher says. “Neighbor stuff, remember?”
“Then neighbor stuff goes both ways,” Quinn insists. “Which means accepting pastries when offered.”
Asher looks like he wants to argue, but Quinn’s already moving to the display case she managed to stock yesterday, pulling out a box and filling it with croissants and danishes and the lemon tarts that she’s particularly proud of.
“Here,” she says, handing him the box. “For you and Ruby. Tell her the chocolate croissant is from me specifically.”
“You’re going to spoil her,” Asher says, but he takes the box, and there’s something almost soft in his expression when he looks at Quinn.
“She deserves spoiling,” Quinn says. “She’s sweet.”
“She’s a menace,” Asher corrects, but there’s so much love in his voice that Quinn’s heart does something uncomfortable. “But yeah, she’s pretty sweet.”
He leaves then—back across the yard to his house where Ruby is probably waiting for breakfast and news about the adventure next door—and Quinn watches him go while Mabel makes pointed humming sounds behind her.
“Not a word,” Quinn warns.
“I didn’t say anything,” Mabel protests. “I’m just observing that you gave him the good pastries. The ones you only make in small batches.”
“He fixed my pipes,” Quinn says. “He deserves good pastries.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Mabel says with that knowing smile. “Whatever you say, honey.”
Quinn discovers later—via text from Cole who apparently has no shame—that yes, he deliberately cut her pipe at Judy’s request, and no, he’s not sorry because it got Asher out of his house and being social, and that’s worth one minor plumbing emergency.
“You people are INSANE,” Quinn texts back.
“Welcome to Maplewood,” Cole responds. “We meddle with love.”
Quinn should be furious about the manipulation, about the town scheming behind her back, about being forced into exactly the kind of situation she moved here to avoid.
But somehow, standing in her now-functional kitchen with the morning sun streaming through the windows and the memory of Asher’s almost-smile when she gave him pastries for Ruby, Quinn finds herself more amused than angry.
This town is absolutely crazy.
But maybe, possibly, it’s also kind of wonderful in its own meddling way.
Not that Quinn’s interested in Asher.
She’s not.
She’s really, really not.
But when Ruby appears at the bakery door an hour later with chocolate smeared on her face and a drawing labeled “Thank you Quinn!” featuring stick figures and what might be croissants, Quinn accepts it with a smile that feels dangerously genuine.
And when Asher trails behind his daughter looking embarrassed but fond, and their eyes meet for just a moment before he looks away, Quinn thinks that maybe—just maybe—being neighbors might not be the worst thing that’s ever happened to either of them.
Even if the entire town is conspiring to make them something more than neighbors.
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