Chapter 1

The doorbell rang and Adam answered it. Standing on his porch was a woman in her late twenties. She was large in a robust rather than an obese way, her light brown hair was in a ponytail pulled through the vent of a baseball cap and she wore bib overalls over a flannel shirt. She was fastening a tool belt around her waist.

“Hullo,” she said in a soft, alto voice. “I’m Kara Lawrence of Lawrence electric.” She looked at a clipboard. “Are you Bill Wilson?”

“No. I’m Adam Gowan. Bill is my landlord.”

“Oh, okay. He called and said you have a problem with an outlet.”

“Step this way.” He led her into the kitchen and pointed to an electrical outlet along the back splash of the counter. “I was using the toaster when I heard a snap and a pop and saw smoke; then the breaker tripped.”

“Did you reset the breaker?” she asked.

“No -- I was afraid to. I ran an extension cord from the living room to power the fridge.”

She peered at the outlet. “I see some scorching...” From her belt she retrieved a screwdriver and removed the cover plate; then she removed the receptacle itself. “First time I’ve seen one of these,” she muttered. “Where’s your breaker panel?”

“Over here, in the utility room.”

Kara followed Adam into a room in the back of the house. He opened the access panel and pointed to the tripped breaker. She looked around the room. “Gas hot water heater ... electric range. Wonder why electric range but gas water heater...”

“I’d prefer gas myself,” Adam remarked.

“I have gas at home ... all the good it does me. I’m not much of a cook.” Kara removed the cover to the panel. She drew back the corner of her mouth. “Hmm...”

“That was a rather ominous hmmm ... doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t good. This house was built when? Late thirties?”

“I think thereabouts,” Adam replied.

“The kitchen looks like it must’ve been added on ... late sixties or early seventies. When they remodelled they upgraded the power service. And, they wired the new kitchen with aluminum.”

“Aluminum? Not copper?”

“Aluminum. For a while in the late sixties and early seventies folks started using aluminum.”

“Why?”

“Well -- copper was high at the time.”

“Like it is now.”

“Right. Nothing wrong with aluminum by itself ... in fact most of the transmission lines are aluminum. The problem is with the receptacles -- they’re designed for copper. The aluminum reacts with the copper and the humidity in the air ... causes corrosion. You get a resistive connection which heats up...”

“Until ... zorch!” Adam remarked.

“Right. The smart thing to do is to rip out the aluminum and replace it with copper.”

“Re-wire the whole kitchen? That sounds like a project.”

“Oh, it is...” She regarded the panel. “Looks like four breakers are feeding aluminum-wired circuits. This double-gang is for the range and the singles are for the receptacles, lighting and dishwasher. The rest of the breakers feed copper ... must be the older part of the house. Do you have a basement?”

“Under the older part. The kitchen is just on a slab.”

“Attic?”

“Yes, there’s a full attic.”

“I’d like to take a look.”

“Over here.” Adam procured a footstool and then opened a panel in the ceiling. He extended a collapsible ladder. He watched Kara disappear into the opening and then heard her footfalls above the ceiling.

She climbed down the ladder. “Let’s take a look behind the range,” she said. “Can you give me a hand with it?”

“Sure...”

Together they eased the range away from the wall. “I’ll have to clean before we put that back,” he remarked.

Kara removed the cover plate to the range outlet. “Some scorching here, too.”

“What do we do?”

“Replace the wiring,” she replied. “The tough nut will be the receptacles since they’re daisy-chained together. The range, lighting and dishwasher shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“How big a job is it?”

“Oh ... Probably a couple of days.”

“Sounds expensive.”

Kara looked toward the ceiling. “I’d say between two thousand and twenty-five hundred.”

“Bill’s not going to like that.”

“He really doesn’t have a choice. The way it stands is a fire hazard. If we had a fire and the fire marshal determines aluminum wiring is the cause ... and if the insurance company learns Bill knew about it -- they could deny the claim.”

“You wouldn’t rat him out ... would you?”

“I wouldn’t volunteer anything but if they asked me, I wouldn’t lie. If you’ll excuse me I need to make a phone call.”

Kara headed for the cab of a large panel van with Lawrence Electric painted on its side. Shortly she returned. “Well ... better get started.”

“Bill agreed?”

“I explained that there’s no half-way to do it. A repair like this is gonna need a permit ... which means it’s gonna need to be inspected.”

“He may need to cancel his vacation plans,” Adam remarked. “Oh well ... the joys of being a landlord. Can I give you a hand with anything?”

“Oh, I can manage.”

“Then, I’ll get out of your way,” Adam said. “I have some work to do.”

“You work at home?”

“Yeah ... I’m a free-lance software consultant. You won’t need to shut off power to the rest of the house -- will you?”

She shook her head. “No ... shouldn’t need to do that.”

Adam strolled into his kitchen. Kara was on her knees behind the range. “How are we doing?” he asked.

“Oh ... I have the lights done and I’m working on the range.”

“I was going to heat up something for lunch but seeing the range is out of commission ... Kara -- do you have lunch plans?”

“I was going to work through,” she replied.

“I thought I’d drive over to the Sub Station for a sandwich. Could I get one for you?”

“Oh ... Sure. Ham and cheese.”

“Toppings?”

“The works. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Did I block you in with my truck?”

“I can get out.”

Adam returned carrying a paper bag. He took a couple plates from a cabinet and set them on the kitchen table. “Soda?”

“Do you have anything diet?” she asked.

“I have only diet.” He held up a can from his fridge.

“Sure,” she replied. “Let me wash my hands...”

She sat across from him and unwrapped her sandwich. Adam regarded the ceiling. “You said you did the lights already?”

“That’s right -- they were pretty easy.”

“That track lighting really dates the kitchen as early seventies.”

“I have a seventies kitchen at home,” she said between bites. “Complete with avocado green refrigerator and dishwasher.”

“They still run?”

“The dishwasher is starting to show its age. They built them to last back then.”

“Not like today...” He regarded her. Kara had a round face with apple cheeks, full lips and a slightly crooked nose. She was a large woman, big boned but fit and her hands were almost the size of Adam’s. “Tell me,” he said, “how did you decide to become an electrician? It seems an unusual career for a woman.”

“There are a few of us. I learned it from my dad. Once I was out of high school I assisted him ... got my certificate. When he passed I inherited his business.”

“When did he pass away?” Adam asked.

“Three years ago. He had pancreatic cancer.”

“Kara -- that must’ve been heartbreaking.”

“Oh, it was. He was able to carry on for a few years after the diagnosis, but then he declined pretty rapidly.”

“I’m really sorry, Kara.”

“Now, I’m carrying on in his footsteps.” She finished her sandwich and soda. “What do I owe you for the sub?”

“Oh, it’s on me, Kara.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, thanks. It really hit the spot. I was getting hungrier than I realized. I’m gonna try to finish the range yet today.”

Adam was in his study when he heard Kara calling his name. “In here,” he yelled and then stepped into the living room.

Kara approached him. “Well, I’m done...” Her sightline focused on an object on his wall. “Is that genuine?” she asked.

Adam took down from the wall a Civil-war era musket. “It’s a replica,” he said, “of a Springfield rifled musket.”

“May I?” He handed it to her. “My dad had one just like it. When I was little he did Civil War re-enacting.”

“Do you still have it?”

She shook her head. “After he passed, my mom sold all his re-enacting stuff. I’m sorry I don’t have it. Do you do re-enacting?”

“No -- I’m a history buff and I like target shooting. That musket is a lot of fun to shoot. I also have a replica Hawken plains rifle and a Colt Dragoon six-shooter. Did you ever shoot your dad’s musket?”

“A couple times ... only with blanks, though. He never put a slug in it. I used to help him make up cartridges for his re-enacting ... roll up newsprint and fill it with black powder.” She handed it back to him and Adam replaced it on the wall. “Anyway, I came in to say I’m done for the day. The range is wired and if you give me a hand we’ll push it back.”

“I’ll deal with it, Kara. I want to clean behind there, anyway.”

“I need to head over to City Hall for the permit and I need to pick up some supplies. I’ll be back in the morning. Is eight too early?”

“Eight is fine.”

“It’ll be a full day tomorrow,” she said. “Your disposal and dishwasher aren’t up to code, so that’ll need to be addressed. They share the same breaker. By rights each should have its own.”

“Are you going to isolate them?”

“No more room in your panel. They both have Romex just coming out of the wall. It needs to be terminated in a receptacle. I can at least bring that up to code for you.”

“See you tomorrow, Kara.”

Adam wandered into his kitchen. Kara was leaning over the counter working on one of the receptacles. She turned to face him. “Almost done,” she said.

“How are you dealing with the outlets?”

“Well ... Replacing the wiring would mean ripping out the drywall and maybe even having to remove the cabinets. Rather than go through all that, I’m using these.” She handed him an object. “It’s a copper pigtail that crimps onto the aluminum wire.”

“These are okay?”