The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #1 Skeletons in the Closet

by Jennifer L. Hart

  First the bird.

  I felt an unholy satisfaction taking the seventeen pounder out of its salt water bath and plopping it in the pan with a colossal thunk. Preparing raw poultry is the bane of my existence. On my first Thanksgiving I handled the turkey while sporting rubber gloves, but there was no time to dither.

  After I deposited the de-gutted and seasoned bird in the oven, I washed my hands with a vengeance. Neil was right; I was wound tight enough to snap.

  A fortifying sip of coffee helped me find some perspective. I love all holidays, but Thanksgiving is one of my favorites. Everyone was healthy, and my brother was safe and under our roof. We had enough money to pay our bills and provide for Kenny and Josh. And my in-laws would be gone by four at the latest.

  Yes, I had a great deal to be thankful for.

  The doorbell chimed. That would be Leopold.

  The smartest thing my in-laws ever did was hire a flaming gay man with an outrageous sense of humor to liven up their household. Leopold is an absolute gem, who can cook like nobody’s business. He doesn’t take crap either, which has me marveling that he’s been in Laura Phillips’s employ for almost a decade.

  “Hey Leo.” I greeted the gangly, middle-aged man with a kiss on the cheek. In true Leopold fashion, he was decked out in Gucci gray, broken only by an electric blue belt and matching shoelaces in his gleaming white tennis sneakers.

  “Maggie, my sweet, leave this life of complacency and run away with me. We’ll be the new Will and Grace, but with more seasoning.”

  “Hitting on my wife again, Leo?” Neil was dressed for yard work in old jeans and a grungy sweatshirt with the adage “Just let a SEAL show you how it’s done” with a few stick figures in X rated positions for extra class.

  “There’ll be hell to pay if your mother sees you in that.”

  Neil shook Leo’s hand. “Maggie’s working herself up to a full nuclear meltdown. I thought I’d set Mom up on the same level, you know, to even things out.”

  Leo chuckled. “Little boys who play with fire….”

  “Says the biggest flamer of them all. Do me a favor, Leo, hit on my brother-in-law.”

  I shot Neil a dirty look which Leo mirrored.

  Neil shrugged. “I thought it would tamper with his plans to sponge off us for the rest of eternity.”

  Leo smirked, and I shoved Neil out the still open door.

  Leo gestured toward the kitchen. “So let’s see what you’ve done so far, love, and we’ll go from there.”

  “One second, Bucko. Did you know anything about the couch?”

  His expression remained deliberately neutral, and I had my answer. “Damn it, Leo! You’re my inside man! You need to call me when they’re plotting so I have time to mount a defense!”

  “Somebody’s PMS-ing this morning. And to my own defense, I knew they were getting you some furniture. I thought you’d like it. You said last month how much you wanted to redecorate.”

  I pulled him into the living room in order to properly illustrate my outrage. “There is a difference between wanting to, as in an abstract ‘I’ll think more about redecorating at some vague point in the future’, and there is now a white couch in my living room!”

  “White?” Leo lost all color in his face, matching the shade of the couch. “Damn, what was she thinking?”

  “Probably that white looks good in magazines and in living room displays where it’s never touched.”

  “Oh, Maggie, I’m sorry. Tell you what, I have a friend who is a whiz with a sewing machine. I’ll have him make up some nice slipcovers for you as soon as possible.”

  Leopold’s contrition mollified my inner demon. “Sounds like a plan. He doesn’t work holidays does he?”

  “I’m afraid not. Let’s rework the appetizers so we can serve only white wine and champagne to start. Did you get my crab puff recipe?”

  Leo and I talked shop for a few minutes, and I had poured my second cup of liquid death when Marty emerged from the bedroom in all his morning glory.

  “Marty! Put some pants on, for crying out loud!”

  “I don’t have any clean pants. I don’t have any clean clothes at all.” Unabashed by his nudity, Marty started for the fridge and slowed when he caught sight of Leopold. “How’s it hanging, man?”

  “A little to the left.” Leopold’s lips quirked as he took in an eye full.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Marty, there are kids in the house, and we have company!”

  I made a bee-line for the laundry room door where I extracted a pair of Neil’s sweats and tossed them at my brother’s head. He pulled the pants on without comment and returned his attention to the refrigerator.

  “You’re thirty years old, I’m sure you’ve used a washing machine before!”

  Marty poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed half before answering. “Yeah, I have, at laundromats, but you have all those rules and regulations, and I don’t want to evoke the wrath of the Laundry Hag.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I was really starting to hate that name. “Fine, I’ll do your wash, you big baby.”

  Marty grinned at me and took his juice back down the hall.

  “I’ve been played,” I said to no one in particular.

  “Like a violin in the Boston orchestra.” Leo shook his head in disgust. “You’re not doing him any favors by catering to him. As long as you treat him like a child, he’ll continue to act like one.”

  My guilt over Marty’s life-long debacles was well documented, catalogued, and labeled as being wasted energy, but I couldn’t seem to break the pattern.

  I retrieved my brother’s clothes from the floor and put on a load of whites, muttering all the while.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Uncle Scrooge, have you seen the wheelbarrow?” Neil appeared in the kitchen doorway. “We’re supposed to be getting some rain this weekend, and I wanted to dump the leaves in the creek out back.”

  This was going to be tricky, especially with Marty and Leo bearing witness. “Someone stole it.”

  Neil stuck his finger in his ear, like he was cleaning it out. “Come again?”

  “Someone took the wheelbarrow. I went to put some stuff in it and it wasn’t where I left it, so the logical conclusion is that someone stole it.”

  Leo stuffed celery and bit his bottom lip to hold back his laughter, and Marty took a swig from the beer bottle he’d been nursing.

  “The logical conclusion…,” Neil repeated. “Logical. That just doesn’t seem to apply to the theft of an antique wheelbarrow. That’s Monty Python logic if ever I heard it.”

  “Do you think we should report it?” I asked, all big-eyed innocence.

  “What the hell, the cops working on a holiday deserve a good laugh.” Neil went to make the call, and I smacked Leo on the shoulder.

  “It isn’t funny!”

  “Au contraire, this is not just funny, it’s hilarious!” Leo actually giggle-snorted, which got Marty going, and my indignation dissolved into genuine amusement. It was comical, even more so since I was the only one who knew I’d maneuvered the stinking thing to the grocery store where it was pilfered. I guess the next time the car broke down and I decided to push a wheelbarrow to the supermarket, I should bring a bicycle chain and padlock.

  I regained a bit of composure, and since my eyes were full of tears anyhow, I began slicing onions.

  My sleepy young-uns emerged and gave the cackling adults disgusted looks. “What’s so funny?” Josh said, hands on hips. He looked so serious, and the combination of the morning cowlick and the reproving tone started us off again.

  Kenny shrugged and went for the cereal. “Adults are so weird.”

  “Hey, boys, eat up and then get dressed. I need your help in the backyard.” Neil smirked in my general direction, shook his head, and made his way out of the house.

  Josh and Kenny groaned in unison, but did as their father bade.

  “Marty, why don’t you give Neil a hand?” I asked.

  He shrugg
ed and followed after Neil.

  “Way to crack the whip, Laundry Hag.” Leo wiped down the counter and basted my bird. “Wait a minute, if you’re the Laundry Hag….”

  “Don’t go there.” I bit off each word, but knew what was coming.

  “Does that mean I’m your Fag? Isn’t the Fag supposed to have the Hag, not the other way around?”

  I rolled my eyes until I could almost see my brain. “No, you’re Laura’s Fag; you’re just on loaner to the Hag for the duration. God, I really hate stereotypes.”

  “You do?” Leo asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Point taken. Now, this Hag has to make herself presentable. Can you take it from here?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  With Leo working his magic and the boys all outside, I trundled down the hall. I did my makeup a touch on the conservative side and methodically checked for grays before twisting my hair into an untidy bun and donning my chosen outfit. The black pants were a bit loose, thank heavens, and the shirt was a billowy cut and fell nicely, revealing a tasteful amount of cleavage.

  I believe in playing up my assets.

  I clipped my diamond solitaire around my throat. And noticed the spot. A dime-sized white spot on my shirt directly over my left nipple, which made a noticeable break in both the cobalt and navy horizontal stripes.

  Son of a motherless goat!

  I immediately knew what had happened. There must have been a trace amount of bleach on my hands when I took the top out of the washer to line dry. Damn my anal retentive need to wash before wear!

  Don’t panic, maybe it isn’t so bad.

  I trotted down the hall and presented myself to Leopold.

  “What did you do to your shirt?”

  “Is it that bad?” I chewed on my lower lip.

  “On the grand scheme of things, no, but it does draw attention. Maybe you should wear something else.”

  “I don’t have anything else! My one nice dress is at the dry cleaners, and I can’t show up to Thanksgiving dinner in a T-shirt!”

  “Then we’ll have to work with what we’ve got.” He grabbed my hand and led me into the den. “Where are your permanent markers?”

  “At the store, waiting to be purchased.”

  “You really are a drama queen, you know that.” He sighed and pulled me to the boys’ room. Stepping gracefully over Kenny’s sleeping bag, Leo extracted some Crayola markers from the desk.

  “We have black and a medium blue. That will have to suffice. Now this is washable, so it’s only a quick fix.” He knelt on the floor in front of me and uncapped the black marker.

  I shifted my weight. “Um, maybe I should take the shirt off first.”

  He shook his head. “This material has some spandex in it and it needs to be stretched the way it’s going to be worn or it won’t look right. Now hold still.”

  I held my breath while Leo carefully colored my boob.

  “Hey, Maggie, do you know the timer is….” Neil came to a full stop in the hallway, both in movement and in speech.

  I could easily envision the picture he was beholding.

  “I’m not even going to ask.”

  * * * *

  “Hello, sweetheart.” My father-in-law leaned down to give me a subdued kiss on the cheek. To my knowledge, Ralph called every woman he met sweetheart, from family members to the female wait staff at his club. I gathered it was easier than matching names to cup-size. The sixty-two-year-old lawyer was the quintessential silver fox, oozing charm from every pore, and his casual manner allowed him such liberties. After five minutes with Ralph Phillips, I want to drop to my knees and thank God my husband missed out on the domineering pig gene.

  As usual, Laura sent him a perturbed glance, and I was only a little surprised when the women’s lib speech didn’t ensue. My mother-in-law had bigger fish to fry today.

  “Maggie, what is this I hear about you being arrested? What on Earth happened?”

  “It was a simple misunderstanding, Laura.” She had never offered to let me call her Mom, and I was very glad for it. “We’ve got it all taken care of, and it will never happen again.”

  My reassurance fell on deaf ears. “We don’t have time to discuss this now, but I had to do some fast talking to keep Mr. Henderson from backing out of today. He heard about your escapade and was ready to blow off the whole deal! Now, he’ll be here in half an hour with his teenage daughter, and so will Mr. Stevenson and Dr. Fredrick and their wives. Please, don’t embarrass me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” came out through tight lips.

  Neil and Marty appeared, both finely dressed in my husband’s button up shirts and slacks, although Neil made a subtle face at me as he reached for Ralph’s hand.

  “Good to see you, Dad.”

  “Laura, Ralph, you remember my brother, Marty.”

  The introductions over, I ushered my in-laws into the living room.

  “Oh, Maggie, the furniture looks wonderful! You see what a little style can do for a room.”

  I was glad I had banned my family from the furniture for the duration. Come the morrow, the stains would run rampant, and I wouldn’t care.

  “Where are the boys?” Laura queried in a distracted tone.

  “I’ll go check on them,” I said, glad for the reprieve.

  Josh emerged from the bathroom, dressed in the outfit I’d laid out for him. In the green button-up shirt and black slacks, he looked like a miniature version of his father.

  I gave him a kiss on the head. “You look handsome. Your grandparents are here. Where’s your brother?”

  “He says he won’t come out.” Josh pointed to the closed bedroom door.

  “Go on out, sweets, I’ll talk to him.”

  Kenny lay on his bed in his undershirt, face buried in a pillow.

  I crossed the room and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What is it, Kenny?”

  A sniffle was my only answer.

  “You know Grandma and Grandpa are here. Let me help you get dressed.”

  A violent head shake, and he clung tighter to the pillow.

  I rubbed his back. “Talk to me, Sport.”

  “I don’t like this. We never used to have to get all dressed up, except when we went to church. Thanksgiving was fun in Virginia. All of Dad’s friends and their kids, not a bunch of stuffy old people.”

  My heart ached in my chest. “Kenny, I know you miss the way everything was, but sometimes things have to change.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s only a meal, sweetheart. We’ll eat, and then when everybody leaves we can go play some football in the backyard. And think of all the awesome leftovers! You know what a great cook Leo is. We’ll have good food, and when we’re done we’ll send all the old farts packing.”

  That elicited a watery laugh. “I’m gonna tell Grandma you called her an old fart.”

  “No need,” Laura said from the doorway.

  Aw crap.

  “Kenny, please finish getting ready.” I stood and marched staunchly ahead to face my doom.

  With her features frozen, Laura looked like the evil queen from The Chronicles of Narnia. “Margaret, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t malign us to our grandsons.”

  “Laura, I was only trying to cheer him up. He’s having a little trouble adjusting to all the changes, and I meant no harm by it.”

  Laura narrowed her green eyes and looked at me as if I had sprouted horns. “Children need to be taught to respect their elders, not to mock them. It’s outrageous enough that you don’t work for a living, setting an outdated and passé example for the boys, but do you really need to compound that embarrassment by belittling those more progressive than yourself? You may not have been taught proper respect, however—”

  “Now wait a darn minute, lady. My sister has nothing but respect for her elders and she was taught by the best. But respect is earned, and I think you should show Maggie a little consideration in her own house because she has sure earned some.” Of all the unlik
ely heroes, Marty decided to stand up for me.

  I was floored.

  Laura glared at Marty and turned on her heel, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume and simmering rage in her wake.

  “Marty, I….”

  “Save it, Laundry Hag. No one should talk to you like that, no matter what a screw up you can be.”

  “Right back at ya, Sprout.”

  Marty shifted his weight. “Anyway, I came to tell you that your guests are arriving.”

  We made our way back to the gathering where I greeted the stuffy new additions. Leo served appetizers and champagne with impressive efficiency, and no one seemed to notice that Laura ignored both of the Sampson siblings.

  Josh, who was totally enamored by Olivia Henderson, offered to show her his computer set up, and Kenny followed them into the other room. I ducked into the kitchen to check on Leopold and the bird.

  “How goes it?” Leo placed the turnip in the microwave.

  “The spot on my boob was the best part.” I hiccupped.

  He eyed me closely. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “I’m still conscious, so not enough.” I went to refill my glass. “That’s funny, the bottle is empty.”

  “Maggie, my love, you’re shit-faced.”

  I held my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Mildly inebriated.” Another hiccup. “Nicely toasted.”

  Leo pushed me onto a stool. “You’re drunk as a skunk and you’re not to move from that spot until otherwise directed.”

  He sighed and went about his work. I watched him for a minute in silence, but that was all I was capable of.

  “I’m a bad mother.”

  “I know better than to argue with a nicely toasted person. Turkey will be going on the table in five. Do you think you can relay the news without injuring yourself?”

  I gave him my best droll look and lurched off the stool.

  “Steady there, Tiger. We don’t want you doing a face plant; it’d ruin the festive mood.”

  I snorted and focused all my energy in putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Dinner is about to be served, so what would everyone like to drink?” I announced in my perfect hostess voice.

  Neil cocked his head at me as he rose. “Why don’t you let me get the drinks, babe. You should sit. You’ve been working so hard today.”