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

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Stop laughing,” I grumbled to Sylvia who wheezed and fought for control at the tale of my disastrous night out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

  “This is why I don’t want to celebrate things. It’s asking for trouble.” I scrubbed at the stains on my cooktop stove. Apparently, Mac had made pasta instead of ordering a pizza last night and the water had boiled over. Damn glass top stoves. It was early and Kenny and Josh were off to soccer camp. Neil had skulked off before dawn after a night spent on the couch since I locked his sexy self out of the bedroom.

  Sylvia raised a brow and sipped her Starbucks. “You mean that exact situation? You get peed on often?”

  My hair was falling out of my ponytail and I batted it away with my arm since my hands were covered with chemicals and latex. “No, but it’s always something.”

  She shook her head. “I still can’t believe you made him leave after all that. You didn’t even see the hotel room?”

  “I didn’t make him leave, I left. The power came on about five minutes after his Spiderman routine and we all got off on the next floor. I called Leo and he drove me home. I heard Neil come in an hour after I got back but I shoved the dresser in front of the door to keep him out.”

  “You must be really pissed,” Sylvia said, tongue in cheek.

  “Wiseass,” I attacked a stubborn spot with as much elbow grease as I could muster. I wasn’t really annoyed with Sylvia or even Neil. He was just being himself, hero to the rescue. “It’s like the couch.”

  “Huh? What couch?”

  My ponytail holder fell out and I tipped my head back and blew the stray strands out of my eyes. “The white couch my mother-in-law gave us last year. It’s nice in theory, but life beats the hell out of it until it’s all stained and smushed and just looks like crap.”

  “Are you talking about the couch or yourself?”

  “Both. The couch is a metaphor for me, except I don’t have a slipcover and just walk around covered in whatever’s been spilled on me.” I stared down at my hands as though I could see them through the rubber gloves.

  Irritated, I pulled the gloves off and laid them aside. What I needed was coffee and lots of it.

  Sylvia ran one long elegant finger around the rim of her cup, silent for a moment. “So do you still want to do the Dale job? Even after Sarah’s warning?”

  I set my mug down and glared at her. “You are so transparent.”

  “I’m only thinking of you,” she cooed.

  “No, you’re only thinking of yourself and your prejudice to psychics. What’s up with that anyway?”

  “I told you, they’re a bunch of scammers who make the rest of us look like whacked out nut jobs and flakes.”

  I raised a brow at her. “So how do you explain Sarah’s warning?”

  “The box could have been any number of things.” Sylvia folded her arms over her chest. “Just because you had a bad night in an elevator doesn’t mean she’s for real.”

  I took a bracing sip of my coffee, keeping my eyes on her. “Sylvia Wright, I never thought you were such a hardass skeptic.”

  She blew out a breath. “So does that mean we can beg off the job?”

  “No.” If she thought a little psychic insight was going to scare me off she had another thing coming. “Regardless of your prejudice, we’re taking the job. That place is immense and crammed to the rafters with stuff. And she’s lonely.”

  All that was true. If the Dales had been less wealthy, they would have been called hoarders.

  “You like her.” Sylvia’s eyes narrowed as though she accused me of slipping her a veal cutlet in her smoothie.

  “Yes, I do.” But that wasn’t why I wanted the job. It wasn’t the money either. No, I was intrigued by the psychic. It ran in my veins, my mother had been a firm believer in psychics, had visited one regularly. Long before Miss Cleo, the formidable Mistress Zenobia, a gypsy fortuneteller, and her second sight had helped steer my mother’s every major decision.

  “I don’t know.” Sylvia as the voice of skepticism.

  Slyly, I played the ace up my sleeve. “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll just ask Leo.”

  “Leo?” She repeated as though unable to believe I’d stoop so low.

  I sat back and waited. Sylvia and Leo had this weird and totally unnecessary competition going as to which one of them was my BFF. No matter how many times I told them that I loved them both equally they still vied for my attention, like siblings during weekend visitation with an absent parent. I’d known Leo longer but Sylvia lived next door and we were in business together. In spite of her cool Zen exterior, I knew she wouldn’t want to risk being edged out.

  She blew out a breath. “All right, we’ll do it.”

  My cell rang, interrupting our conversation. I looked down and saw my husband’s picture flashing on the screen. “It’s Neil.”

  “I’ll come to pick you up at noon.” Sylvia set her mug aside and departed quickly to give me privacy.

  Though I was tempted to let him go to voicemail I blew out a breath and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Why’d you leave?” Neil snapped. “And why in hell did you lock me out last night?”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared down at it. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “No,” he said and I could hear the irritation in his voice, even with the receiver several feet from my face. “I had plans—”

  I hung up on him, not wanting to hear about his plans at the moment. I’d had plans too, and they hadn’t included being used as a loadstone and getting urinated on. I’d bathed the second I got home but just the thought made me want to hit the shower again.

  With hours to kill until our job at the Dale estate, I wandered through the house. I was too restless to sit and read or watch T.V. Nothing needed cleaning or cooking. In a last-ditch effort for distraction, I clipped a leash on Atlas and dragged his sorry carcass off the couch. “Come on boy, let’s go for a walk.”

  Once in motion, Atlas was overjoyed at the idea of a midday walk. Though he had our entire fenced-in backyard for a bathroom/ play area, he enjoyed patrolling the neighborhood. Maybe he was just as nosy as me.

  We passed by Sylvia’s house and through the open windows I could see Penny walking the floor with baby Mae. I needed to talk to Penny one of these days, find out just what the hell was going on between her and Marty, but I had enough on my plate at the moment.

  We’d made it to the top of the hill when a Mini Cooper pulled up alongside us. My Mini with a very angry former SEAL behind the wheel.

  “You hung up on me,” Neil accused.

  I didn’t even look over at him. “Call me crazy, but I do that when people yell at me.”

  “Just tell me why you left,” he seethed. The way he was bent up behind the wheel I thought it was possible he’d explode.

  I started, not able to remember the last time Neil had been outright angry at me. Then my own rage came roaring back and I rounded on him. “You abandoned me.”

  He glowered. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.” I turned and continued to walk, dragging Atlas along. The poor animal was so confused, torn between his mistress who had him by the neck and his master’s obvious fury. He liked happy humans and right now there were none to hide behind.

  “Maggie, get in the car,” Neil demanded.

  I shot him a murderous glance. “What am I supposed to do with the dog, sit him on my lap? Thanks, but I’ve had enough public humiliation for one week.”

  Clueing in that I wasn’t about to see his version of reason, Neil hit the brakes and threw open the car door so hard that the whole vehicle rattled. He slammed the door and strode over to me.

  “What the hell did I do?” His eyes were wild, his fingers sinking into the flesh of my upper arms.

  “Stop shouting,” I hissed. “And let go of me.”

  He released me and ran a hand through
his hair. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

  I stared at him. “How is this my fault?”

  His scowl grew darker, more menacing. “They told me you’d gotten off the elevator and I couldn’t find you. I thought something might have happened.”

  “Why would you think that?” Of course, as soon as I said it I knew why. Because I’d been almost murdered three times in the last year. I was sorry I’d worried him but given the choice, I would do the exact same thing.

  “It was an hour before I thought to check the front desk for messages. And what do I find? “Caught a ride home. –M. You didn’t even wait for me.”

  For a smart man, my husband could sure be a dumbass. As patiently as I could I said, “You used me as a counterweight and then left me. What did you think I was going to do, fall gratefully into your arms?”

  “I was trying to get us out!” he shouted. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to not be such a damn hero all the time!” I shouted back poking him in the chest. “We were fine in there, we could have waited it out. It was inconvenient but not a life or death scenario. Yet you had to go and risk your fool neck and embarrass the hell out of me and for what? No one is standing around, waiting to give you a medal, especially if you’d fallen down that elevator shaft.”

  To my horror tears welled, but I ruthlessly scrubbed them away. Stupid macho man.

  Atlas whined and nudged my hand with his nose.

  “I scared you,” Neil said with dawning realization. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  I shoved him hard in the chest. “Of course you scared me, you big jerk. You and your horrific case of testosterone poisoning.”

  Though I tried to push past him, he gripped my arm and yanked me to him, his mouth descending roughly on mine. The kiss was brutal, punishment for the anguish we’d put each other through in the last twelve hours. I bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and he pulled me tighter against him, stealing all the air from my lungs. With our emotions running so hot it was either kiss or kill each other. Maybe both.

  “I’m sorry,” Neil whispered when we finally drew apart. “So sorry, Maggie.”

  I nipped at his ear. “Take me home and make it up to me.”

  We left the car in the middle of the street.

  “You’ve got sex hair,” Leo rolled his eyes as he handed me the fragrant casserole dish. “Bad time? You should really hang a sock on the door.”

  “My hair always looks like this when I get up.” I fought the impulse to run my fingers through my tangle of curls.

  “It’s eleven-thirty.” Leo pushed past me into the house. “And we’re supposed to be planning Penny’s belated baby shower, remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” I lied and followed him into the kitchen, still carrying the dish. “I remembered, I just lost track of time is all. What’s in here? It smells awfully strong.”

  “Spinach artichoke dip. And don’t change the subject. We were talking about your sex life.”

  Just then, Neil came around the corner, tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

  “And the plot thickens,” Leo poured himself a cup a coffee, sporting a cat in the cream smile.

  I was so busted.

  “Leo,” Neil nodded at him and then pulled me into his arms.

  Ignoring our latest arrival, I twined my hands around my husband’s neck, pulling him closer so I could whisper in his ear. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Count on it.” His lip was swollen but it didn’t slow him down any as he kissed me, his hands circling round my neck, toying with my collarbone as if he couldn’t help himself. When he pulled back his expression was full of passionate intent. “Tonight.”

  I watched him walk out the front door and put my hand up to the spot he’d just touched. There was a sore spot there. I’d have to check to make sure I wasn’t developing a hickey.

  “I swear, the heat coming off the two of you could solve the energy crisis.” Leo fanned his hand over his face. “So, have you resigned yourself to being knocked up yet? Did I interrupt some scheduled baby-making time? Cause I could—”

  I covered his mouth with my hand, the only sure way to stop him when he got going. “No, we haven’t made a decision yet.”

  “Tick tock.” Leo removed my hand and pointed at his wrist. “Your eggs are aging like an over the hill starlet on South Beach.”

  “As pleasant as that thought is…” I frowned as I looked from his bare wrist to the actual time on the stove. “Oh damn, Sylvia will be here to pick me up soon.”

  “Nu-uh. I had dibs.” If Leo could have stamped his foot and somehow retained his dignity he would have done it.

  “It’s work,” I told him. “Remember the psychic? We’re helping her clean out her grandfather’s estate.”

  Leo drummed two fingers on the counter. “And what about the baby shower? At the rate you’re going, Mae will be heading off to prom before we host this event.”

  Even with the lid on the casserole dish the smell was making my eyes water. “What, did you buy stock in garlic?”

  Leo frowned. “There are only two cloves in it.”

  “I’m putting it in the fridge.”

  “What about the shower?”

  “Sorry, but I have to go.” Then a thought struck me. “Hey, maybe you could come with us.”

  Leo shot me a girl, pul-lese look. “It’s my day off. And not like I have a man to spend it with.”

  I refused to touch that particular sore spot. If Sylvia’s dating pool was an ocean, Leo’s was the Sonora desert. “I don’t mean you have to clean, but I figured we could talk baby shower while I work. You could take notes.”

  “Are you sure your new employer will be okay with me tagging along?”

  I scooped up the hair tie I’d dropped earlier. “Leo, she’s a psychic, she probably already knows you’re coming. If she didn’t want you there she’d just call and tell me not to bring you.”

  Leo mulled it over. “I’ll admit I am curious. I had my palm read at a street carnival in the village once but everything was so vague and I forgot most of it. What’s she like?”

  I thought about it for a beat. “Distracted. She’s still in mourning over her grandfather but she’s strong and I think this project means a lot to her. I kind of wish I’d had a chance to pack up all of my parents’ stuff, you know? As a way to really say goodbye to them. After the fire, there wasn’t really anything left and Marty and I had to start from scratch.”

  Leo put an arm around my shoulders. “All the more reason you should get busy with the baby-making. You’re maudlin when you don’t have something to do.”

  I shoved him. “Jerk.”

  “You know you love me.” He snapped and turned back toward the fridge. “Oh, do you think I should bring the spinach artichoke dip?”

  “Sure.” Better stinking up Sarah Dale’s fridge than mine.

  Chapter Five

  I’d been right, Sarah adored Leo and his spinach artichoke dip. The two of them were chatting about the latest episode of The Voice while Sylvia and I cleaned out the kitchen.

  It was a big job. The kitchen was small but packed to the gills. Sarah had indicated that she wasn’t much of a cook and we could donate most of the stuff. We had three piles going. One for everyday use, one for salvageable donations and one for DNR that looked like it had seen better days—when Lincoln was president.

  “What’s that?” Sylvia asked as I pulled a rusty gadget from under the butcher block island.

  I frowned at the object in my hand. “Right now, a tetanus hazard. Pass me a trash bag.”

  “Don’t you think you should ask Sarah first?”

  I raised my arm and brandished the object over my head so our employer could see it. “Hey Sarah, you want lockjaw?”

  “No, thank you!” She waved back.

  I dropped the thing into a black plastic bag. It landed with a loud plunk. “She trusts our judgment.”

  Sylvia blew out a breath. “Why
though?”

  I looked around at the heaps of clutter. “It’s overwhelming, especially since she’s still grieving for her grandfather. Tackling this too probably seems insurmountable. It’s easier for us to do it.”

  Sylvia nodded thoughtfully. “Still. I mean, would you want some random strangers coming to your house to toss out your stuff?”

  I had crawled back under the island to extract the next ancient piece of garbage. “No, but I’m a control freak.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Leo said.

  I jumped, and then bashed my head on the underside of the cabinet. “Ouch. Leo. I swear, I’ll put a bell on you if you don’t quit sneaking up on me.”

  “Just make sure it doesn’t clash with my kicks,” He said, pointing down to his

  brightly beaded moccasins. “I got them at the reservation and they are the most comfortable footwear evah, plus unique. How many gay men do you see wearing moccasins, huh? You ladies need a hand?”

  “You don’t have to,” Sylvia rushed to respond. “We can manage. Where’d Sarah go?”

  “Out to the stables, I think. She mentioned something about checking on a new foal.” Leo eyed Sylvia, a gleam of speculation in his gaze. “You’re looking well today. New haircut?”

  She started, as though surprised and touched her artfully messy blond bun. “No, actually, I’m growing it out.”

  Leo didn’t appear fazed. “Well, whatever it is, keep it up. You have a rosy glow about you.”

  She frowned at him. “Um, okay. Thanks. Hey Maggie, do you think we should clear out some of the donate-ables to the hallway? It’s getting a little crowded in here.”

  “Sure.” We’d already recycled most of the newspapers and magazines that had cluttered the entryway so there was space out there.

  The second she was gone Leo whirled on me. “She’s preggers.”

  I dropped the cast iron skillet I’d been holding and it landed on my foot with a crash. “Ouch!” I hopped around, glaring at Leo. “Who, Sarah?”

  He looked at me, mischief dancing in his eyes. “No, Sylvia.”

  My big toe throbbed and I felt a little dizzy. “How the hell would you know?”