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

the car into our driveway. “Your insults are all ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ now. So politically correct that they aren’t even good insults! You’re turning into Martha Stewart.”
    “Take that back!”
    “Yeah, I think that fits since you’re both jailbirds.”
    “Bite me, Butt-Munch.” I reached across my brother and popped the trunk myself. I opened the door and looked over at him. “You have no idea how hard it is being responsible for other people. You get to just drift through life without a care, knowing Neil and I will always be there to bail your fat out of the fire. But you know, I have to set a good example for my boys, and that includes you—it has for over a decade. I may not be as much fun as I was before, but I’m a better person. Can you say the same thing?”
    I shut the door before he could whip out another smart ass retort and began to unload.

    * * * *
    Marty had driven off in a huff as soon as I carted my bags inside. Kenny and Josh were playing their latest PlayStation game and murmured a greeting at me. I deposited my bags and called Neil while I put the groceries away.
    “Do you think I’m a prig?”
    It took a moment for his laughter to subside. “No, Maggie, I don’t think you’re a prig. Why do you ask?”
    “Marty.” I scrubbed out the sink and let it fill for ol’ Tom’s brine bath. “He said I’m different when your parents come around, that I turn into Martha Stewart.”
    “Now, that’s total crap. First off, I would never marry Martha Stewart, mostly because I wouldn’t want to wake up like John Wayne Bobbitt if I forgot to put the seat down. And even though I can’t understand most of the things you do, I get that you want to make a good impression on them, although God alone knows why.”
    I felt better. “I feel better, thanks, gorgeous.”
    “All part of the service, love.”
    Neil hung up, and I set to work. I ordered pizza for dinner and stopped long enough to have a slice with Josh and Kenny.
    “Can we help, Mom?” Josh asked around a mouthful of pizza.
    “Actually, you can. After you guys finish dinner I need you to pick a few loaves of bread into dressing.”
    “What kind of pie are you making?” Kenny wanted to know.
    “Pumpkin and Apple Crumb.”
    “No chocolate cream?” My youngest son looked so crestfallen that I briefly considered trying to make his favorite dessert too.
    “Sorry, sweets, I don’t have enough room in the fridge for another pie, but I’ll do my best to make one over the weekend, especially for you. Sound good?”
    Kenny nodded and shot me a pizza lookie, which I returned. We finished dinner, and I had Josh take out the trash while Kenny started with the bread, and I tackled the pie crust and tried not to think about how harsh I’d been to my brother. He deserved every word, but the fact didn’t ease my guilt. The phone rang, and Josh finished washing his hands so he could answer it.
    “Hi, Grandma, how are you?”
    I shuddered and wiped my hands on my apron. I’d conveniently forgotten that Laura had been trying to reach me, and it was now reckoning time. Josh handed me the phone.
    “Good evening, Laura.”
    “Maggie, where have you been? Never mind, did you accept the delivery?”
    “Delivery of what?”
    The doorbell rang. Kenny jumped off the stool and scrambled for the front door. I followed as dread unfurled in my stomach. The sweat-covered missing link on the other side handed me a clipboard, and I cradled the phone on my shoulder as I signed.
    “What is it, Laura?”
    “Your father-in-law and I thought we would send your Christmas present early. No need to thank us, dear.”
    “Thank you?” I said absently as I watched Cro-Magnon man and his equally imposing partner unload the couch. The blindingly white couch, which had stain magnet written all over it in special ink that only I could see, along with its accompanying oversized chair and ottoman.
    “Oh, Laura, you shouldn’t have,” I said with conviction.
    “Where do you want it?” the delivery man grunted at me, and I threw my hands in the air. He shrugged and proceeded to the living room.
    “Now, the men have instructions to take away the old sofa and loveseat, so you don’t have to worry about that. Did you get my e-mail about the schedule changes?”
    “Changes?” I asked and watched my furniture disappear onto the truck. I wanted to cry.
    “Yes, dear, you really should stay on top of your correspondences; otherwise you’ll