Single in Suburbia

by Wendy Wax

  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 tel
l 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.”

  She stepped back so they could enter, but she barely spared a glance for Dan. All of her considerable energies were focused on her daughter.

  Candace, who hadn’t shed a tear in front of her mother since her turbulent teenage years, wanted desperately to cry.

  “To think that my daughter would parade around pretending to be a maid—and a French maid at that! Picking up people’s dirty clothing!” She shuddered. “Scrubbing their toilets!”

  Candace felt an urge to throw up—she always felt nauseous these days—but she was too busy trying not to cry to give in to it.

  “If it’ll make you feel any better,” she said, “I never actually scrubbed Susie Simmons’s toilet. I mostly knelt in front of it.”

  Hannah Bloom’s look of horror grew. Turning, she focused on Dan for the first time. “Of course it would be you.”

  Her words vibrated with disapproval. Candace could practically see her mother replaying the whole Irish routine in her head. Scrubbing toilets AND an Irish boyfriend. If she were Hannah Bloom, which would she find more troubling?

  “And what do you make of my daughter’s behavior, Daniel?” her mother asked in a deceptively friendly tone, by which Candace was not deceived.

  Candace wanted to sit down before her knees buckled. Or go screaming from the room—either action would have suited her at the moment. Instead she cowered under Dan’s arm, a ready-to-weep, emotional basket case. What in the world was wrong with her?

  “I think she’s fabulous,” Dan said without hesitation. Or, fortunately, an Irish lilt. “She stepped up to help a friend when a friend was in need. I’d think as a mother you’d be proud that you’d raised a child who would do that.”

  “She’s made us both a complete laughingstock, is what she’s done,” Hannah countered. “I don’t know what’s come over her.”

  Neither did Candace. But Dan didn’t seem bothered by this. In fact, for someone so mellow, his voice was infused with a surprising amount of certainty. “Of course, Candace isn’t exactly a child anymore is she, Mrs. Bloom?” He pulled Candace closer to his side while Hannah glared at both of them. “She’s forty-two. I’d say that’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

  This of course was the point at which Candace should have straightened beside him and shouted out her own emancipation proclamation. “Free at last! Free at last! Great God almighty, I’m free at last!” But she was so used to judging herself through the filter of her mother’s approval that she didn’t know how to stop. And she couldn’t tear her gaze from her mother’s face.

  To her abject horror the tears she’d been holding back burst free in a scalding torrent. They flowed down her cheeks like lava from a volcano, taking the last particles of Chanel’s heavy makeup with them.

  “Look what you’ve done to her,” her mother scolded Dan. “Look what she’s been reduced to.”

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned Candace to face him. The tears washed down her face and splashed onto the marble floor. A small puddle seemed to be forming at her feet.

  “All I’ve done is love her.”

  They all stood there absorbing that.

  “Candace,” he said quietly, ignoring her mother as she fervently wished she could. “Look at me.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so that her eyes met his. “Tell me what you want to happen right now. Should we ask your mother to leave?”

  This sounded like an incredibly wonderful idea. Because then she could collapse into Dan’s arms and ask him whether he’d actually meant to say the “L” word to her. Or whether it was just a ploy to drive her mother out of the house.

  But she couldn’t seem to find the strength to answer. Nor could she avoid turning to see the expressions now flitting across her mother’s face. There was hurt and horror and ultimately a look that said, “I gave you life and everything else. You cannot turn your back on me.”

  It was the “I gave you life” look that did her in.

  Sadly, Candace shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  Dan looked deeply into her eyes. After a long moment he dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step away.

  “Your mother has her own life and friends. Don’t you think you’re entitled to the same?” he asked her, still quietly, though she knew her mother was straining to hear. “It’s time to grow up, Candace.” His smile was almost as soft as his voice. “And I meant it when I said that I love you.”

  Then he moved toward the door and put his hand on the knob. “When you’re ready to live your own life, give me a call.”

  And then she was staring at his back as the door closed behind him.

  Aghast at what she’d just done, or rather failed to do, she turned back to face her mother and caught the look of triumph that spread across her face.

  Her final thought, just before she raced to
the bathroom to throw up, was how lucky Brooke Mackenzie was that her mother wasn’t around to muck up her life.

  chapter 28

  I t was an indication of how rattled Brooke was that she actually wished her mother was there on the long silent ride home.

  She at least would have understood why her daughter had made up such a carefully crafted new identity and just how appalled she was that it had been jeopardized.

  Amanda’s advice played in her head. But she didn’t see how she could possibly tell Hap the truth now when he was looking at her the way he was. What were the chances that someone from her distant past would see her in the paper and feel a need to point out the irony? No, her old secret was safe if she could just ride this out. So people would turn up their noses at her for this little escapade. As long as Hap didn’t, she’d find a way to tough it out.

  Whenever they hit a red light or a stop sign, he turned to consider her. But he never actually said anything. He’d just look at her and then slowly shake his head as if to say, “Doesn’t she beat all?”

  By the time they pulled into the driveway, she couldn’t take the silence anymore. She needed him to speak, even if she didn’t like what he said.

  When they entered the house, Tyler was lounging on the couch watching TV. “Hey,” he called out, “I saw you on Live at Five. Which one were you, Chanel or Simone?”

  She didn’t bother to answer. Instead she took Hap’s hand and drew him along with her. In the bedroom, she closed the door and turned to face him. “Aren’t you going to speak to me?” she demanded. “I swear if you shake your head at me one more time, I’m going to jump out of my skin.”

  Hap blinked in surprise, as well he might. Never once since the day they’d met had she ever raised her voice in his presence. As Amanda had pointed out, he didn’t know her at all.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, but nothing seems to come to mind,” he admitted. “I actually think it was nice of you to try to help Amanda. But you look so not like you in that getup. And you’re not acting like yourself either. I mean dressing up like a cleaning woman and mopping other people’s floors? I’ve never even seen you with a dust rag in your hand. I can’t imagine how you could ever bluff your way through something like that. Didn’t any of your clients complain?”