Handyman

Julia O'Malley: Bill "Guillermo" Martinez arrived at my door for the first time looking like a person who'd recently disembarked a cruise ship. He had on a denim shirt, sweater vest and sandals. It wasn't until I looked closely that I noticed his clothes were covered with a fine spattering of paint.

Handymen from Craigslist had been coming for days. They all had baggage. There was the registered sex offender. And the twitchy guy who wanted to be paid upfront. Guillermo, whom I found through a friend, was of another breed. For starters, he was at least 75 years old, though he didn't look it. He had a shock of thick white hair, black eyebrows and a crooked smile. His skin was smooth as leather.

I took him to my crawl space. The two of us peered up at the rotting floor beneath my bathroom. I watched him calculate in his head. Could he fix it? Yes he could. He gave me a very good price.

"You don't have to hire me," he said as he was leaving. He had a thick Argentinian accent. "But I should tell you that when I read your last column, I had a feeling we would meet."

(thanks, Sara)