Hung Out to Dry: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #4

by Jennifer L. Hart

  She eyed me a moment and then popped the door of her car. “Okay, but let me do all the talking.”

  I snorted. “That was kind of my plan all along. You’re a better saleswoman than I am.”

  Sylvia gave me a quicksilver smile. “That’s because I’m not jaded and always suspecting everyone of being up to something.”

  “Just because I’m paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not all out to get me.”

  “That’s a healthy attitude.” She shook her head, knowing I was only half-joking.

  We made our way up to the front door and rang the bell. A distant chime sounded from inside the house, followed by a chorus of barking dogs. There was a scrabbling sound and then footsteps.

  The woman who opened the door greeted us with a huge smile. “Maggie, Sylvia, I’m so happy to meet you.” Her voice was high but pleasant. Not so much the litter of tiny fluffy dogs that swarmed around her feet. I had no idea of their breed, but they were definitely yappy purse critters. Atlas pooped bigger than all of them combined.

  Ignoring the dogs, I studied Sarah herself. She was small and pale with big brown eyes and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a loose black scoop neck t-shirt, similar to my own ensemble.

  Sylvia blinked, apparently nonplussed by the enthusiastic greeting. I nudged her in the kidney and she sprang back to life in a rush of words. “Oh, uh, it’s great to meet you, too. Ms. Dale?” Her voice went higher to ask the question.

  “Yes, but please call me Sarah.” Her dark gaze fixed on me. “Maggie. You look just like I thought you would.”

  “Okay,” I said, wondering if she’d been internet stalking me. “Do we have a mutual acquaintance or something?”

  “Nothing like that.” Her eyes sparkled as if she had read my thoughts, her next words keeping that option in the realm of possibility. “I’m psychic.”

  Well so much for normal.

  Chapter Two

  “Psychic?” Sylvia repeated with less enthusiasm than I would have thought.

  I frowned at her. I was the earthbound skeptic of our little duo, but Sylvia was looking at Sarah Dale as if the woman had just announced she had a bunny boiling away on her Viking stovetop.

  “That’s right.” Sarah’s tone was bright, utterly guileless. “Won’t you both please come in?”

  She was so eager, just like the scrabble of fluff balls dancing around her heels. By this point in my life, I knew the difference between a maniac bent on my destruction and someone who was simply happy for the pleasure of my company. Already she treated us like real people more than the hired help. In spite of my reservations about taking on the job, especially for the rich and entitled, I did like her.

  We followed Sarah into the house. The place was huge but cluttered. Books and papers lined every flat surface. Bric-a-brack on every windowsill. There were no neat stacks, just a general sprawl as though someone had been searching for something specific and hadn’t bothered to tidy up afterward.

  My fingers twitched, the need to clean surging to the forefront of my mind. “Down girl,” I muttered.

  “May I get you anything?” Sarah waved to a drawing-room, or what I assumed was a drawing-room, having never been in one myself. “Coffee, tea, pop?”

  “No, thank you.” Pop, huh? That wasn’t a term one usually heard from a New England native, who usually referred to it as soda or cola. I filed it away though I couldn’t have said why the detail seemed important.

  Sylvia just shook her head, mutely. Something was definitely up with her.

  “You sure?” Sarah was so overtly eager to please that it bordered on painful. I got the feeling that she didn’t entertain much and that company came few and far between.

  “Yeah, we hit Starbucks on the way here.” Well, Sylvia had. I’d shave my head bald as an egg before ever paying five bucks for a small coffee.

  Sarah nodded and gestured towards a leather sofa. “Please, sit.”

  We did, my pal lowering herself sans her customary grace. She looked a little green around the gills, too. If not for her bizarre reaction to Sarah’s announcement that she was psychic, I would have thought she was about to upchuck her chai tea. I nudged her discreetly in the ribs as Sarah cleared off a stack of quilts on a chaise to make room for herself and her posse of pets.

  What’s wrong? I mouthed the words soundlessly.

  Another head shake and Sylvia wore an expression like someone was forcing her vegan self to eat a meatball sub. Fine, I‘d wheedle it out of her later. So much for her taking point on the interview.

  Squaring my shoulders, I pasted a bright smile on my face and asked. “So, Sarah, how did you hear about us?”

  “The newspaper.” She said absently, glancing out the window.

  “You mean our ad?” I prompted.

  Her gaze still trained at the empty landscape, she murmured. “No, when you were arrested.”

  I clenched my fists. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  Her head swiveled toward me like an owl. “Oh, I knew that right away. You’re a good person, Maggie. You help people.”

  This was the weirdest interview I’d ever been on. Taking a deep breath, I decided to cut to the chase. “Do you need help, Sarah?”

  “Well, yes and no. As you can see, the place is kind of a mess. It’s been this way ever since my grandfather passed away.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. Having been on the receiving end of condolences with my own parent’s death, I knew how hollow the words sounded, but they were better than sitting there like a bump on a log in silence. “Were the two of you close?”

  She nodded, and discreetly wiped a hand under her leaking eyes. “He raised me ever since my parent’s death when I was five. He was my whole world.”

  Though it was wildly inappropriate, I wanted to get up and give her a hug. Only Sylvia’s wooden presence stopped me from crossing the small space and holding on to the young woman who appeared so utterly lost and alone. Instead, I made soft soothing sounds and watched as her dogs closed in around her like a protective shield.

  Though I wouldn’t have blamed Sarah for falling apart, she didn’t. Instead, she dug deep and squared her shoulders as if ready to face the next challenge. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  I gave her a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you tell us about the job? What is it you want us to do?”

  Sarah nodded as though relieved to have something else to focus on. “Well you see, my grandfather, his name was Chester, left me this house. My uncle inherited his lumber yard and my two aunts received all his bank accounts. I had no idea he had done that until after his will was read. I already have a trust from my parents, I didn’t really need the money, but he wanted me to have this place. I think because it’s the only real home I’ve ever known.”

  “So you want us to help you clean it out,” I surmised.

  “That’s right.” Sarah smiled. “It’s too big a job for just me. Gramps was a collector and something of a packrat. So much of the house is just filled with stuff, things that had special meaning to him. I’m a little too afraid to go through it all myself, in case I accidentally throw out something that was special or important to him.”

  What she was proposing wasn’t anything I’d ever tackled before. “Are you sure you want to hire strangers to do this? I mean, maybe your family would want to be part of this.”

  But she shook her head. “No, I can’t deal with them and their fighting and bickering. They’re already irritable about the will and the fact that I got the house. This is what gramps wanted, me to do it my way.”

  Which apparently included us. “When should we start?”

  I cast a belated look to Sylvia, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have accepted the offer without discussing it with her first.

  The doorbell rang and Sarah hopped up. “Oh, please excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  The second she was out of sight I rounded on Sylvia. “What’s the matter with you?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t like psychics.” Her tone was sullen.

  My mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”

  “Because, it’s too easy to fake being a psychic,” she hissed. “People who claim to be psychics are often con artists. They don’t have deep-seated beliefs or a rich spiritual landscape. It’s a gimmick, not a lifestyle.”

  “But you believe in ghosts,” I said inanely. “Don’t they go through psychics?” This might actually be the strangest conversation I’d ever had and that took some doing.

  Sylvia rolled her eyes as though I‘d said something stupid. “That’s not the same thing at all. Ghosts communicate through mediums. Physics claim to have visions.” She made sarcastic air quotes around the last sentence as though it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “What they really do is observe people and then feed them a ton of BS in exchange for an exorbitant fee. They’re scammers, every last one. Now can we please make our excuses and get out of here?”

  I was stunned stupid by her vehemence. Never in a million years would I have believed that Sylvia would be so jaded about anything. There was something going on there, something that had nothing to do with Sarah Dale specifically.

  “Look,” I said, striving for a calm tone. “I hear what you’re saying but I don’t think Sarah’s like that. For one thing, she’s the one who will be paying us and as you so readily pointed out to me earlier, there aren’t a whole heap of people lining up to do that right now. I think we should at least consider taking this job.”

  “Fine,” she muttered the same way Josh and Kenny did when they saw that I had a point but didn’t want to admit it. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “What does dress nice mean?” I cradled the phone to my ear as I rummaged through my closet.

  “Oh, somebody’s gonna get some,” Leo’s sing-song voice came back to me. “As long as you don’t ruin it by being you of course.”

  “Shut up,” I laughed as I bypassed my everyday wear. “I mean, does it mean dress hot or dress formally? Because the last thing I want is to slip into a titty dress with the girls banging out like I’m the prow of a ship and have him take me to the opera. Or worse, a snooty French restaurant with Laura and Ralph.”

  “I can guarantee you Ralph and Laura are in for the night. No need to worry about them.” Since Leo was their housekeeper, I could take his word to the bank.

  “So I should go for the slutty gold?” There was a little red number that I’d bought on clearance that helped my cleavage defy gravity. If I did decide to green light operation baby, I would probably never wear it again.

  “Men respond to slutty,” Leo agreed. “But don’t take my word for it. Go ask your new psychic friend.”

  I spied a flash of red at the back of the closet and reached. “I should never have told you about that.”

  “Like you could help yourself.” I could easily imagine the exaggerated eye roll that went along with Leo’s acerbic tone. “So do you think she’s a real psychic or a total wacko?”

  “Little of column A, little of column B.” I withdrew the dress with a flourish. “She’s nice enough but the elevator doesn’t go to the top floor if you get my drift. I feel bad for her though. Her grandfather passed away recently and it’s obvious she misses him.”

  “Maybe he forced her to take her meds and she’s gone off them.”

  “Maybe.” There was a chirping sound and I glanced down to see a text from my brother. “Hey Leo, I’ve gotta scoot.”

  “Call me tomorrow with all the dirty details.”

  “Will do.” I hung up and read the text from Marty. Staying with girlz 2-night.

  Ugh, his texts were more irritating than Kenny’s. Was it really that much more difficult to spell girls properly?

  “I’m starting to sound like Leo,” I said to Atlas who was sprawled on my bed like a useless heap of canine goo. Still, it was nice to know that my brother and Penny had gotten over whatever rough patch they’d been having, and not just because the dents in my couch matched his butt.

  I took a shower and tied my hair back from my face so I didn’t have to mess with it. I thought about eyeliner and decided to skip it, reaching for the mascara instead. More makeup meant more opportunities for mishaps. I only had an hour and poking out an eye would put a damper on my plans.

  Exactly fifty-six minutes later, I was as ready as possible. Josh and Kenny were playing a video game in the living room, something involving dragons and medieval villages.

  “Hey,” I said, wondering who Neil had asked to babysit. “Did you guys eat yet?”

  “No,” Josh said. Kenny was too absorbed in his video game to respond. “When’s dinner?”

  I put my hands on my hips and retrenched. “Did you feed Atlas?”

  The dog gave a thumping wag of the tail, ears perking up to the sound of his name.

  “No.” Josh’s gaze was locked on to the screen.

  I made an impatient sound and debated unplugging the thing from the wall. “Earth to Phillips spawn. Come in Phillips spawn.”

  “What?” Kenny hit the pause button and turned to face me. “What are you wearing?”

  “A dress.”

  They exchanged glances. “Why?” Kenny asked at last.

  Why indeed. “Dad and I are going out.”

  They stared at me blankly. “Why?” Josh asked.

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “On a date, Scamp.”

  “Dad never said,” Kenny began but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “Is it Dad’s job to notify you of our every movement?”

  “He always has before.” Josh’s tone was the one I’d used on him many times. Über reasonable with just a touch of, you’ve got to be kidding me.

  I blew out a sigh. “Fine. Well, I’m telling you both now. Your dad and I are going out.”

  The glance they exchanged then was more apprehensive. “So, who’s gonna make dinner?” Kenny asked.

  “Or are we going with you?” Josh leaped up. “We should go change.”

  This was why I didn’t like surprises. I had no idea what Neil’s plans were and while Josh had matured considerably, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone in charge of his brother at night.

  I dialed Neil’s cell. When he answered I said, “Hey. What am I supposed to do with the boys?”

  “They’ll manage. You don’t always have to map out a plan for their every movement.”

  “Have you met me?” I asked.

  He blew out a sigh. “Let me talk to Josh.”

  I handed the phone over and crossed my arms, waiting.

  Josh listened for a few beats and then nodded. “Oh, sure.” He handed the phone back. “He wants to talk to you.”

  With that, he turned around and resumed his position staring at the screen.

  “All set,” Neil’s voice was filled with triumph.

  I turned away. “What do you mean, all set? Who’s going to feed them? Who’ll make sure the dog doesn’t eat the house?”

  As if in answer, the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll see you soon, hot stuff.” The phone clicked in my ear.

  I scowled at the blank screen and then headed for the front door. There was a teenage girl standing on the other side. She had hair cut short, the color more black than nature produced. Her bangs swept dramatically over her forehead. One eyebrow and the left side of her nose was pierced. In spite of the heat she wore a leather jacket with chains hanging off it.

  “Hi, I’m Mac, your babysitter.” She nodded at me with one of those chin jerks of acknowledgment.

  Before I could think of what to say next, Atlas, who was always eager to greet someone with the potential to feed him, lunged for her. I had to give her credit for not fainting at the sight of the charging beast. She was small but not as young as I’d first thought, maybe even in her early twenties.

  “Hey boy, how you doing?” She scratched the big dog behind the ears.

  “Mom?” Josh asked from behind me and then his jaw dropped
at the sight of his babysitter. “Wow,” he breathed as though awestruck.

  “Hey,” Mac looked up from one slobbering beastie to the other. “Are you Josh or Kenny?”

  “Josh,” his voice cracked and he coughed to cover it up. “Yeah, I’m uh, Josh.”

  Mac pushed past me into the house. With nothing better to do, I shut the front door.

  “Hey,” she greeted Kenny.

  “Who did that to your face?” Kenny asked.

  Josh groaned as though mortified.

  “Where did my husband find you, Mac?” I asked, envisioning Neil pulling her off the back of some biker’s Harley and offering her a job to save her. Considering his hero complex and the fact that he picked me up on a beach after my life fell apart, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

  “I’m one of the MIT interns at Intel,” she said.

  My jaw shut with an audible click. So didn’t see that one coming.

  “You go to MIT?” Josh asked. He did a lot of throat clearing. “I want to go to MIT.”

  News to me but I saw that the tips of his ears had turned bright pink and he might explode in a burst of teenage hormones if I said anything to contradict him.

  “Okeydokey then.” I opened the little black clutch I was carrying and fished out two twenties. “Here’s pizza money and a little extra in case you need anything. There’s a magnet for a place that delivers on the fridge. Dog needs to be fed and let out before bed, which is Kenny’s job. My cell is on and we’ll be back—” I frowned, having no idea when we would be back. “Later.”

  “Have fun,” Mac said. Josh waved absently and Kenny didn’t even look up.

  Come to that, I might have to have another child so there was someone to take care of me in my old age.

  I exited the house feeling both free and reluctant at the same time. All thoughts of my obsoleteness vanished when I remembered that A.) I didn’t have a car or B.) a clue where I was going.

  I had my phone out and was halfway into a text to Neil when a Town Car pulled up, the passenger’s side tire curb checking before rolling off and the vehicle stopped at an odd angle. The driver’s side door flung out and a stream of curses in a good old boy accent announced the driver’s identity.