The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag (6 page)

Neil cut his gaze to me briefly. “I’d bet my left nut on it.”

* * * *

“Why is there a camper in front of our house?” Neil squinted at said vehicle through the grimy windshield of my Mini.

“I have no idea. Maybe one of the neighbors is having company from out of town?” I suggested. Neil parked behind the vehicle which blocked most of our driveway.

“Maggie, this is Massachusetts. People go south during the winter, since you’d have to be a kook to visit in February.”

He had a point. I sure as hell wouldn’t load up a gas-guzzling RV and hit the road for Hudson to play chicken with a Nor’easter during the winter.

Neil exited the car and I stepped into a giant pile of slush, soaking my left foot as the muck spilled over the top of my ankle high boot. The gray sky held the threat of more snow, with heavily pregnant clouds looking ready to pop.

“I’m going to ask around and see who this thing belongs to and request the owner move it so we can park in our driveway.” Neil was already heading across the street.

I squished my way to the front porch and then let out a groan. I realized Neil had my key ring. Crap, now what? I couldn’t call Neil since my cell was dead and I really didn’t want to wait for frostbite to set in. The thermometer was reading in the single digits. I dug in my black shoulder bag, hoping to unearth a spare when my front door swung open.

“Marty!” I squealed and threw my arms around my brother’s neck. I hadn’t heard from him since before the holidays and I’d lost quite a bit of sleep worrying about him. I should have known better. Marty, like an oil slick, always managed to ooze his way to the surface.

“What’s up, Laundry Hag?” My younger brother returned my hug with interest.

“Same old, same old. How about you?” I shucked my parka and leaned against the door, forcing my numb fingers to unlace the saturated boot.

“Well, a lot actually,” Marty grinned and chucked his thumb toward the camper. “Did you check out my new wheels?”

The boot resisted and I used my other foot to toe it off with a slurping sound. “You’re kidding, right? Sprout, are you out of your mind?”

Marty immediately went on the defensive. “It was a sound investment. I bought it off this guy who’d inherited it last summer. Got it for a sweet deal, Maggs, and I needed the room.”

“For your collection of skin flicks and beer caps?” I asked, feeling my blood pressure heading for a new high. Damn, Neil was going to be pissed about the camper. And about Marty’s return. My brother had a nasty habit of popping up at the worst of times, mooching his little heart out, reeking general havoc in my house and leaving at the height of the chaos. Neil put up with him for the same reason I dealt with his mother, because we loved each other and therefore had no other option.

Marty got large, filling up the doorway to my living room with his imposing girth. “Get off your high-horse. You don’t know the first thing about my situation.”

“Of course I don’t. You don’t freaking talk to me! The only time you show up on my doorstep is when you’re in over your head and you need me to fix something!” Exasperated, I skidded on the wet parquet floor and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower was in order if I was in for Neil vs. Marty, the cage match.

“Maggie, wait!” Marty shouted but I held up a hand, not wanting to deal at the moment. I turned the door knob and pushed open the bathroom door.

A woman was seated in my bathtub, neck deep in bubbles. Her eyes were closed and she had ear buds in, so she didn’t turn at my startled cry. Peony pink toes tapped on the faucet of the garden tub in time to the music.

I stared for a minute, wondering if my mind had snapped like a dry twig. Who was she and why was she in my tub and, by the scent of things, helping herself to my lilac bubble bath? Marty pounded on the door and I reached behind my back for the handle. Whoever she was, she deserved privacy and I turned the knob when she rose from the bubbles and all of my thoughts derailed.

“Hey there,” Uncaring of her nudity and my open-mouthed gape, she stepped from the tub and reached for a towel, which refused to meet ends over her hugely pregnant belly. “You must be Maggie.” Her voice held the thick syrup of the South.

Water cascaded down her figure from her wet hair, and she plucked a second towel from the rack to swath her head in, turban-style.

“Yeah, I’m Maggie. I’ll, uh, wait out there.” Offering a wan smile I slipped out into the hall where my brother stood. Marty wouldn’t meet my eyes. So I got in his face.

“Care to explain?” I huffed, mortified and out of patience. Neil was gonna shit monkeys.

“This isn’t how I planned this, you know,” Marty’s tone was belligerent, but laced with guilt. “Penny was tired after the drive and I tried to call your cell, but it kept going to voicemail. So I figured she could clean up while we waited.”

My temper was at the boiling point and I dragged Marty down the hall to my bedroom so Penny wouldn’t hear me erupt. I needn’t have worried, the drone of the hairdryer filtered into the room.

“She’s pregnant, Marty! At least five months along! Correct me if I’m wrong but five months ago, you were still living with Dee in the Bronx!”

“I know that!” Marty huffed and ran a hand thru his hair.

“Were you cheating on Dee? Is that why you two broke up?” Dee was a zoologist at the Bronx Zoo, and she had been great for Marty. At least until wanderlust had taken hold of him yet again.

For a moment, Marty looked hurt, much like the sixteen-year-old boy I had raised after our parents’ deaths. I squelched the nurture impulse—he was a grown man now and needed to be aware of the consequences of his actions. “I’ve never cheated on a woman in my life, Maggie. Dee wanted someone steady and dependable.”

I pointed sharply in the direction of the bathroom. “And this girl doesn’t? Cripes Marty, in a few months she’s gonna have a baby!” “I’m great with kids. Kenny and Josh love me.” “It’s not the same. You’re the favorite playmate, but you get to give them back at the end of the day.”

My brother raised his chin in a gesture of stubborn defiance. “I can learn how to be a parent, same way you did. It’s not like any of those shmoes crapping out kids right, left and sideways gets an owner’s manual or how to for dummies.”

The drier cut off and I lowered my voice to a menacing whisper. “This isn’t a game you can walk away from when you get bored, Sprout. Babies especially depend on you for everything. You don’t get vacation or sick days.”

He opened his mouth to respond but I held up a hand as the front door slammed. I closed my eyes, searching for the right words to explain the situation to Neil. Unfortunately, I took too long.

“No luck with the camper, Uncle Scrooge. You in here?” His soft footsteps stopped outside of the bathroom. I heard the hinges squeak ominously.

Oh hell, no. I shoved Marty aside and flung open the door. Neil was struggling to get his T shirt over his head, probably intent on taking a shower, just as I had been. Penny’s towel had been shucked and I caught her reflection in the mirror as she eyeballed the broad expanse of my husband’s chest.

Neil’s shirt gave way and he took a breath, as if to continue but let it out in a whoosh when he realized he was being ogled by a pregnant stranger.

“Helllooo handsome,” Penny drawled.

I shot Marty a death glare and sprinted to close the bathroom door.

Chapter Five

“Sylvie come on, open the door.” I stood outside my friend’s house and begged. Neil had gone to pick up the boys from school and I couldn’t stand to be in my house with Marty and Penny for another minute. Everything about Marty’s Baby’s Mama annoyed the daylights out of me. Her favorite song was
Redneck Woman
, which I had actually kind of enjoyed until she played it for the thirty seventh time on our stereo. Penny’s hair, which had dried to a curly mass of coppery beauty, made me tug self-consciously on my own gray-streaked brown locks. Her accent made my eyelid spasm, which, I admitted to myself, was kind of hypocritical. Technically, I grew up south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but I’ve been told by numerous sources that I talk more like a trucker on the Jersey turnpike than a Southern Belle. And the way she praised every fool notion to pass my brother’s lips was beyond ridiculous.

Despite Marty’s protests, both Neil and I agreed there was no way on God’s green Earth that we would let a pregnant woman sleep in the RV in sub-zero temperatures. I’d pulled Neil aside and offered to send them away, for the sake of his sanity, but he’d sighed and gone about filling the air mattress where
we
would sleep until the weather improved. Or Penny went into labor, whatever came first.

“Please, Sylvia. It’s frigging cold as a witch’s britches out here and I’ve had a bear of a day and I won’t be able to sleep on my ancient air mattress tonight till I see for myself that you’re all right.”

The door opened a crack and I sighed in relief. Stepping inside, I hugged Sylvia before my brain registered what I’d seen. Her blond locks were pulled back in a sloppy pony-tail, highlighting her gauntness. She wore a grubby T-shirt covered by humongous overalls and a determined expression I’d never seen on her typically serene features. After shutting out the cold she turned to face me, hands on hips, but made no move to invite me in further

“I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. This isn’t a good time to visit.” Sylvia’s right foot tapped and she practically vibrated with nervous energy.

“What are you doing and how can I help?” I shucked my jacket and rolled up my sleeves in a gesture of solidarity. I’d pooched the encounter with Eric and possibly made things worse for her, and I was prepared to make amends.

Sylvia sighed and dropped her chin to her chest. “Maggie, go home.”

“Not until you let me apologize.” I stated stubbornly. “I was going to make you my classic I’m sorry casserole, but it’s got sausage in it and I know you wouldn’t eat it.” Sylvia was a vegan and card carrying member of PETA.

“While I appreciate the half-assed gesture, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You weren’t screwing Eric in the ball room.”

“No, but I made a scene and I figured I’d brought more attention to your situation than you wanted, especially at your place of employment.”

Sylvia didn’t say anything, just stared down at her paint-spattered boots.

“Are you remodeling?”

Her ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. “I’m applying the principles of Feng Shui to the house.”

“Didn’t you already have it all Feng Shui-ed?” I asked.

Her gaze darted to mine for a moment then out the window. “That was for mine and Eric’s home. Now it’s just my house and I need positive energy to improve my Chi.”

I had no idea what to say. I’d been prepared to be a shoulder to cry on or share a drink and rail about cheating bastards but Chi was out of my realm of understanding.

“So, put me to work. You want to move a sofa or dresser? Marty’s in town and Neil will be back soon—”

“Maggie, stop.” Sylvia held up her hand in a hold-it-right-there gesture. “I just want to be alone for a little while, okay?”

Stung, I nodded and donned my coat again. “Please call me if you need
anything
.”

“I will,” Sylvia offered me a ghost of her usual smile and I left before I started to cry. What a screwed-up day.

Deflated, I headed back to my house. Thoughts buzzed like pissed-off bees inside my skull, nattering on about what a lousy friend/wife/sister I had become. Was it my curse to disappoint the people I loved time and again?

“Shut up,” I growled at myself. Mental flagellation didn’t accomplish anything. What I needed was to form a proactive plan. Set a goal and strive for it as well as prioritize my life.

When I started thinking about it that way, the task didn’t seem so daunting. Neil and my marriage came first. Dr. Bob may be a tool, but he might be a useful tool, if applied correctly. My course set, I huddled in the relative shelter on the garage and dialed my freshly charged cell phone. Dr. Bob answered his own phone on the first ring.

“This is Maggie Phillips. I was wondering if I could maybe come back in at some point this week to continue our session?”

Silence reigned for the span of several heartbeats. “What for?” Dr. Bob asked, bewilderment cutting through the static on my end of the line.

Spit it out and move on with life.
My mother’s voice comes to me every so often, usually when I’ve hit an emotional wall. I’ve made it a habit to listen to her. She always protects my interests. “I’ve done some thinking and I realize that I need to treat my marriage as a priority.”

“Mrs. Phillips, I’m going to be blunt here. While you may seem sincere now, I predict that every session will be a battle and frankly, there are easier ways to spend my days.”

What, my money wasn’t green enough for him? I took a deep breath, sucking frigid oxygen all the way down to my toes. “Neil wants this and I want Neil to be happy and I’m willing to do anything to get us there.”

“Fine,” Dr. Bob snapped. “I’ll pencil you in for 10 AM tomorrow.”

I flipped through my mental to-do list. “Oh, no Dr. Bob I have a—”