The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Skeletons in the Closet

of coffee, which I was sure had grown cold hours before, and sloshed a healthy amount on my gleaming countertop. After adding sugar to both the cup and the mess on the formerly clean work area, he took a sip and grimaced.
    “Coffee’s cold. When did you make it?”
    “Around six-thirty, when I got up.”
    Marty squinted at me. “Do you wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day?”
    “Actually,” I responded as I took a sponge from the sink and cleaned up after him, “I was awake at five, but didn’t get out of bed until six-thirty. So it was before the ass crack of dawn.”
    “Like the plumber’s crack of dawn then.” Marty snorted and took another swig of coffee. “You know, Maggs, you should probably take a little more care with your appearance; you look like death warmed over.”
    I had tied my hair back with a red bandana and I sported my bleach-stained jeans and a ragged flannel that I refused to let Neil wear anymore. “I’m dressed for cleaning, for work Marty, you should try it sometime.”
    “Hey, I have a job, a potentially awesome job, which is going to make me some serious capital.”
    I put the sponge aside and gave my brother my full attention. “Okay, I’m braced for it. Hit me.”
    “Well, I met this guy….”
    I wondered if my brother had decided he was gay and that was why he’d left the beautiful zoologist. I was very encouraged by the thought because at least it would mean Marty had settled on a course.
    For once.
    “…so he invited me to invest in the project.” Marty looked at me hopefully, but I’d zoned out.
    “The project?”
    “Yeah, you know, I’d be part owner in a lake community.”
    “And where is the community?”
    “Uh….” Marty bit his lip, the same way he’d always done when my parents had busted him for not washing behind his ears.
    “You don’t know?”
    “Real estate is always a good investment.” Mr. Wizard had gone on the defensive.
    “Not if it’s in the middle of Lake Erie.” A sharp pain took up residence behind my left eye.
    “I’m sure it’s not like that.” He didn’t look sure. In fact, he looked palpably worried.
    “How much have you invested?”
    Marty studied his mismatched socks. He didn’t look like he was about to turn thirty, but maybe that was my big sister tunnel vision kicking in.
    “Ten thousand.”
    “ Marty! ”
    “It was only half of what I needed, a deposit of sorts.”
    “And where did you expect to get the rest?” The question was redundant, since the pain had spread to encompass both my eyes and a ringing in my ears.
    Marty wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Well, you made some money when you sold your house in Virginia Beach, and I thought you’d be willing to throw a little my way as an investment. You’d get it all back and—”
    “ Made. Past tense, Marty. Everything we made on the sale of the Virginia Beach house went into this one. You know how I am about money; I’m not taking out a second mortgage to support some whim!”
    Marty’s temper flared. “Hey, you weren’t always like this! I remember a time when—”
    “Don’t. Go. There.” Neil had arrived home from the gym. He still wore his sunglasses, and I saw my ashen reflection in the mirrored lenses. In true hero form, Neil has an impeccable sense of timing.
    Marty backed down, as he always does when confronted by Neil. “Maggie, I needed a little help, that’s all.”
    “Did you ask Dee for money? Is that why the two of you broke up?” I asked quietly. Unlike my brother, I had learned a while ago not to poke the hornets’ nest.
    Marty offered a wordless nod. I implored Neil with my gaze, and he sighed. “Maggie has a great deal of work to do, Marty. Maybe you and I should head to the den and have a talk.”
    I smiled at my husband and squeezed Marty’s arm as the two of them left the room. Neil would boot up the computer while gleaning the whole story from the business tycoon, and I was sure he’d have a plan of action before lunch.
    I finished with the baseboards and began polishing the antique dining room table.
    The phone rang.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, is this Maggie Phillips?” a young girl’s voice chirped at me.
    “Speaking.”
    “Hi, um, this is Janice Montgomery. You had called my dad, Jack, about a cleaning job yesterday, and I was wondering if it was still available.”
    The voice was painfully young, and I covered my eyes with my hand. Perfect.
    “Yes, but how old are you, sweetie?”
    “Eighteen.”
    I cleared my