A fierce storm destroyed my grumpy neighbor Mr. Harrison’s home, so I offered him a place to stay.
Big mistake.

He was rude, messy, and expected me to serve him “because I’m a woman.” One day, a dirty sock falling on my head pushed me over the edge. I almost kicked him out—until I saw the ship-in-a-bottle his son had made with him years ago.

Turns out, he’d driven his son away 15 years earlier for wanting to be a dancer. I tracked the son down, George, and—after some initial hostility—we actually hit it off. He agreed to see his father on two conditions: we’d go on a date, and his dad had to make the first move.

I brought Mr. Harrison to George’s house with a new bottle kit. Hours later, they were laughing and building the ship together.

Mom was right—help when you can. Sometimes it mends more than just a roof.