Single in Suburbia (32 page)

Of course, taking off would mean dragging Susie and Lucy along and possibly even running them over, which while appealing, seemed a lot more serious than an unfounded accusation of theft.

Except that as Solange, Simone, and Chanel they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves. Or show any ID.

Amanda’s life flashed before her eyes. She pictured it ending in a high speed chase, the video on all the nightly news programs. OJ had had his Bronco. The de Papillons could find their fifteen minutes of fame in their bright yellow vacuummobile.

She was still pondering these horrible case scenarios when Susie reached her hand inside the car to grab hold of, well, Amanda never knew what she was reaching for, but what she got was Solange’s wig.

“Oh my God!” Susie shouted as she pulled Solange’s dark curls aloft.

“Oh my God!” Amanda, Brooke, and Candace shouted as the police car screeched to a halt and two armed policemen raced toward them with their guns drawn.

“Mere de Dieu!”
Lucy shouted.

The cops just shouted, “Freeze!”

chapter
27

W
ell, at least they didn’t strip-search us,” Candace said when they were finally allowed to leave the Cobb County Adult Detention Center five long hours after they’d arrived in the back of a police van.

“That might have been the only thing that would have shut Susie up,” Amanda said. “She’s still insisting we stole her money and jewelry. If she hadn’t created such a scene, we wouldn’t have been hauled in in the first place.”

And fingerprinted, and photographed.

“It’s a good thing they put her in a separate holding cell; I was ready to tear her from limb to limb,” Candace said.

This was what prison did to a woman.

They were limp with exhaustion and drenched in disbelief as Hap and Dan escorted them through the lobby of the building toward freedom. Candace had insisted on paying her bail, so Amanda had used her phone call to reach Rob and ask him to meet the kids at the house. So far she’d kept the details sketchy. But she simply couldn’t believe this had happened. Arrested! Put in a holding cell. Let out on bond!

“Why do you think they took my shoelaces? Did they really think I could hang myself with them?” Candace asked numbly.

“I don’t know,” Amanda replied. “Did they give them back? A quick hanging by shoelace is sounding awfully appealing.” She looked down at her bedraggled disguise. “I’ll never be able to go out in public again.”

“You?” Brooke gasped. “They photographed me on the way in with that horrible mole on my face!”

Hap had his arm around Brooke’s shoulder, but even though her face had been scrubbed of her disguise and the wig removed, he kept looking at her as if he didn’t recognize her.

Dan appeared somewhat amused, but so far both men had kept surprisingly quiet.

Candace groaned. “I’m finished,” she said. “My mother will probably have me committed to an insane asylum—right after she disavows any knowledge of my existence.”

Dan smiled.

“Please God”—Candace raised her eyes heavenward—“don’t let this story leak out of east Cobb. I’ll never be able to travel south of 285 again.”

Brooke cast a fearful look at Hap, and Amanda knew what she was thinking. She leaned over to whisper words of reassurance in Brooke’s ear.

At the entrance they paused to gather themselves. Amanda felt incredibly weary. She had no idea how Rob would react, but she was more worried about Meghan and Wyatt. They were going to hate this and, possibly, her. And all that she’d tried to build to protect them would undoubtedly come crashing down.

She was pathetic and about to become a laughingstock; a grown woman running around in disguise cleaning other people’s houses. And how many of her current clients were going to want Amanda Sheridan cleaning their homes instead of Solange de Papillon?

A crowd waited out front. There was a news van with the satellite dish raised high.

Candace slung an arm around Amanda’s shoulder. “Hang in there,” she said. “We’ll get through this. We may have to change our names and move to another country. But we’ll survive.”

“I can’t afford to move to another country. And after this I won’t be able to afford to live here either. What in the world were we thinking?” Amanda asked.

With Hap and Dan trying to run interference, they stepped out of the building and into bedlam.

“Hey!” someone shouted. “There they are! It’s the Desperate Housewives!”

The mob surged toward them and more flashbulbs went off. “Why the disguises?” someone shouted. “Are you a ring of thieves or a den of housekeepers?”

There was laughter.

A television reporter with his cameraman tight beside him called out, “Look this way! Can you tell the
Live at Five
audience why you did this?”

Their heads turned and Amanda could just imagine how they probably looked—bedraggled and guilty; three suburban housewives who’d gotten their jollies masquerading as French maids.

Hap and Dan shoved their arms forward to hold the reporters off and escorted them through the crowd to the parking lot.

Hap and Brooke left. Amanda slipped into the backseat of Dan’s car behind Candace. She felt limp as a wet dishrag, with barely enough energy to speak.

“What both of you need is a nice hot shower and a meal,” Dan said jovially. “I’d also recommend a couple of shots of whiskey.”

Candace turned to him. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

“How can I not?” He leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of Candace’s head that made Amanda feel even more alone. “I’m sure you’re going to explain this in your own good time. I don’t see that any real harm’s been done, other than to your pride.”

Candace just groaned. “How did I end up dating such a happy-go-lucky optimist? You have no idea what lies ahead.”

“What do you think’s going to happen now?” asked Amanda. “I mean with the business.”

Candace shook her head. “I don’t know for sure,” she said. “But I don’t see how Maid for You can survive as long as Susie keeps shouting ‘theft.’ I think we need to be prepared for the worst.”

It was pretty hard to imagine anything worse than what she’d just been through, but as it turned out, she was wrong.

Because when they pulled up in front of Amanda’s house, every light was on inside and parked right beside Rob’s car in the driveway, was her parents’ shiny new motor home.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Candace asked.

Yes, actually, she did. But the exhaustion was clearly etched on Candace’s face and there was nothing Dan or Candace could do that was going to make this any smoother. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to tough this one out alone.”

Drawing a deep breath, Amanda let herself into the house. Her entire family was gathered in the foyer waiting for her.

They stared at each other for a long moment, all of them sharing a similar look of amazed horror. Dumbly she kept thinking that her parents were supposed to have called before they came. As if she might have picked another day to get arrested.

“So,” Amanda finally said. “I gather you’ve all heard about my business venture.”

Meghan’s eyes were red and swollen. Her gaze swept over Amanda, taking in the uniform, the crumpled wig clutched in her hands, the streaked remains of Solange’s heavy makeup. Amanda kept her chin up, but she could feel herself trembling.

“And a few other things you failed to mention,” her mother admonished, nodding at Rob. “I wish you’d taken us into your confidence, Amanda. We could have helped.”

Her mother stepped forward and hugged her fiercely. Her father did the same.

Tears she’d been holding off all day clouded her vision. “I just couldn’t tell you,” she said. “I was so ashamed.”

“Tell me about it,” Meghan scoffed. “I thought Lucy was making it up when she called, but you’ve actually been cleaning her toilets. And mopping Samantha James’s floors.” Her daughter’s voice rang with horror. “We saw it on
Live at Five
! I can’t believe you did this to me.” She shook her head in distress. “I won’t be able to show my face in public!”

Amanda’s cheeks stung as if she’d been slapped. The unfairness of it was a sharp, clean stab to the heart. Before she could form a response, Meghan was already up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Wyatt considered her, his expression somber. “It
is
gross, Mom, picking up after all those people. Wasn’t there something else you could do?” Head hanging, he, too, went to his bedroom, leaving her with Rob and her parents.

Trying to gather herself, Amanda looked past them at the home she’d gone to such lengths to save. Had all her hard work been wasted? All her subterfuge for nothing?

Thoughts of all she’d done to spare her children, to protect them, washed over her. She’d been prepared to face disapproval and even ridicule, but not from her children. That they could condemn her so easily and with such little regard for her feelings, was the worst cut of all.

Rob all but shuffled his feet; his discomfort was palpable. But whether he was uncomfortable because her parents were there or embarrassed at what she’d been doing, she didn’t know and didn’t have the energy to ask.

“I’ll pick up the kids in the morning and keep them for a few days until things blow over,” he said. “I, uh, I’m sorry I put you in a position that forced you to do something like this. I, uh…” He paused then seemed to think better of what he was going to say. “I’m sorry.”

They watched him leave.

Numb, Amanda turned to her parents. “I’m going upstairs,” she said. “I’m sorry you walked in on all of this, but I just can’t talk about it anymore right now.”

Weary, she climbed the stairs, hauling herself and the twin weights of hurt and humiliation with her. In the sanctuary of her bedroom, she stripped off Solange’s uniform, laid her wig and hooped earrings on the dresser, and wiped off the rest of her disguise.

She stood in the shower under the hot spray of water wielding the loofah with all her might, trying to rid her body of jail and humiliation and everything else that had happened to her that day.

Her limbs were heavy, her head throbbed. As she pulled on her pajamas, the phone rang continuously but she didn’t pick it up. Whether her parents were fielding the calls or letting them go to voice mail she didn’t know or care.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. At her invitation, her mother entered. Without asking she pulled back the comforter and top sheet and fluffed Amanda’s pillow.

Amanda wanted to weep; this time with gratitude.

“Oh, Mom,” she said as her mother actually tucked her into bed. “Everything is so messed up. I feel like I’ve failed at everything.”

“Hush.” Her mother smoothed her hair back as she had when she was a little girl then lowered herself to sit beside Amanda on the bed. “The only thing that I can see you should have done differently is let us help you. When I think of how desperate you must have felt.” She shuddered. “We would have been here in a heartbeat.”

“I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you before you got here. It’s just that you and Daddy have such a successful marriage; I couldn’t admit mine was such a shambles.”

Her mother looked down at her, her expression regretful. “Oh, honey. Our marriage hasn’t been so perfect. I love your father dearly, but no marriage is always smooth.”

“But I never heard you fight.” Amanda sniffed. “And I’m fairly certain Daddy didn’t take up with anyone named Tiffany.”

Her mother smiled, but it was tinged with irony. “That’s because I was always so careful not to let you overhear anything. Maybe I was wrong not to let you see the reality, but my parents took such delight in shouting at each other that I always thought they were on the verge of splitting up. It was awful.” Her smile turned sad at the memory. “I swore I’d never do that around any child of mine—no matter what the provocation.

“There were no Tiffanys, but we had our share of problems. I almost left your father a thousand times. A couple of times I actually did.”

“I don’t remember you going anywhere.” Amanda searched her store of childhood memories, but there was nothing.

“Well.” She smiled ruefully. “I usually came back before you got home from school.” She smoothed Amanda’s hair one more time. “But my point is no marriage is without its share of trouble. What you have to decide is whether yours is salvageable or not. And if it’s not, we’re behind you.”

“I wish the same could be said for my children.”

Her mother sighed. “They’re teenagers and being embarrassed in front of their friends feels like a fate worse than death. They’ll get over it. But you have to be straight with them. No more hiding or disguises. What you did, you did for them, and if I were you, I’d make sure they understand that. Even if you have to kick a little butt in the telling.”

Amanda smiled at the image. Right now though the only thing she could even contemplate was sleep.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Her mother cupped her chin and kissed Amanda’s cheek. “Sleep tight. Tomorrow is soon enough to start figuring things out.”

She reached over to unplug the phone then left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Amanda pulled the covers up over her head and burrowed into the muffled darkness. It wasn’t exactly the Bat Cave, but it would do.

Candace’s mother was also waiting for her at her house when she and Dan arrived. The sight of her car in the drive sent Candace’s stomach lurching.

“Oh, God. I can’t take this right now,” she whispered.

“Come on.” Dan walked around the car, opened her door, and helped her out. “I’m not afraid of Hurricane Hannah. And you shouldn’t be either.”

Dan put his arm around her and escorted her to the front door. She felt weak and shaken, every one of her emotions practically straining against her skin. She hadn’t even gotten the key out of her purse when the door swung open.

Her mother looked her up and down, took in the soiled pants suit, the heavy makeup, the wig sticking out of her purse. “It’s true then. When Myra called me and told me she’d just seen you on
Live at Five,
I thought she was joking.”