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

I really hate that people take advantage of your good nature. But that caring is part of you, and I love it. I see you, Maggie.”
    “I see you too.”
    “What’s with the Good Humor man rejects?” Marty called from the living room.
    I sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

Chapter Ten
    B y the time I hit the sheets at 2:53 a.m., the dressing was prepared, the pies had cooled enough to be placed in the fridge, and I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. Too little sleep found me in a rotten mood, and I slapped the buzzer on my alarm clock with undue force. The alarmed stopped, but the display went haywire. Well, now I had something practical to ask Santa for.
    I took a three minute car wash shower—just enough to cleanse the undercarriage— and tried not to think about my latest disturbing dream. A turkey had settled in on the new couch and lectured me on proper respect. I knew the turkey was supposed to be male even though the voice had sounded suspiciously like Alessandra Kline.
    I was ironing my pretty new outfit when Neil awoke.
    “Maggie, what time is it?”
    I bit back a scathing retort, since Neil was one of the few people unworthy of my venom. “Coffee will be ready in a few.”
    Neil scratched his stubble. “You’re not going to lose it today, are you?”
    I whirled on him. “Why would you say that? Power of suggestion, Neil. Now all I’m going to think about all day is that my husband thinks I’m on the verge of a breakdown!”
    Neil kissed me on the forehead on his way into the bathroom. “Want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
    Grrrrrr.
    There was no sign of Marty or the boys in the kitchen. I started the coffee and checked my to-do list.
    First the bird.
    I felt an unholy satisfaction taking the seventeen pounder out of its salt water bath and plopping it in the pan with a colossal thunk. Preparing raw poultry is the bane of my existence. On my first Thanksgiving I handled the turkey while sporting rubber gloves, but there was no time to dither.
    After I deposited the de-gutted and seasoned bird in the oven, I washed my hands with a vengeance. Neil was right; I was wound tight enough to snap.
    A fortifying sip of coffee helped me find some perspective. I love all holidays, but Thanksgiving is one of my favorites. Everyone was healthy, and my brother was safe and under our roof. We had enough money to pay our bills and provide for Kenny and Josh. And my in-laws would be gone by four at the latest.
    Yes, I had a great deal to be thankful for.
    The doorbell chimed. That would be Leopold.
    The smartest thing my in-laws ever did was hire a flaming gay man with an outrageous sense of humor to liven up their household. Leopold is an absolute gem, who can cook like nobody’s business. He doesn’t take crap either, which has me marveling that he’s been in Laura Phillips’s employ for almost a decade.
    “Hey Leo.” I greeted the gangly, middle-aged man with a kiss on the cheek. In true Leopold fashion, he was decked out in Gucci gray, broken only by an electric blue belt and matching shoelaces in his gleaming white tennis sneakers.
    “Maggie, my sweet, leave this life of complacency and run away with me. We’ll be the new Will and Grace, but with more seasoning.”
    “Hitting on my wife again, Leo?” Neil was dressed for yard work in old jeans and a grungy sweatshirt with the adage “Just let a SEAL show you how it’s done” with a few stick figures in X rated positions for extra class.
    “There’ll be hell to pay if your mother sees you in that.”
    Neil shook Leo’s hand. “Maggie’s working herself up to a full nuclear meltdown. I thought I’d set Mom up on the same level, you know, to even things out.”
    Leo chuckled. “Little boys who play with fire….”
    “Says the biggest flamer of them all. Do me a favor, Leo, hit on my brother-in-law.”
    I shot Neil a dirty look which Leo mirrored.
    Neil shrugged. “I thought it would tamper with his plans to sponge off us for the rest of eternity.”
    Leo smirked, and I shoved Neil out the still open door.
    Leo gestured toward the kitchen. “So let’s see what you’ve done so far, love, and we’ll go from there.”
    “One second, Bucko. Did you know anything about the couch?”
    His expression remained deliberately neutral, and I had my answer. “Damn it, Leo! You’re my inside man! You need to call me when they’re plotting so I have time to mount a defense!”
    “Somebody’s PMS-ing this