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

morning. And to my own defense, I knew they were getting you some furniture. I thought you’d like it. You said last month how much you wanted to redecorate.”
    I pulled him into the living room in order to properly illustrate my outrage. “There is a difference between wanting to, as in an abstract ‘I’ll think more about redecorating at some vague point in the future’, and there is now a white couch in my living room!”
    “White?” Leo lost all color in his face, matching the shade of the couch. “Damn, what was she thinking?”
    “Probably that white looks good in magazines and in living room displays where it’s never touched.”
    “Oh, Maggie, I’m sorry. Tell you what, I have a friend who is a whiz with a sewing machine. I’ll have him make up some nice slipcovers for you as soon as possible.”
    Leopold’s contrition mollified my inner demon. “Sounds like a plan. He doesn’t work holidays does he?”
    “I’m afraid not. Let’s rework the appetizers so we can serve only white wine and champagne to start. Did you get my crab puff recipe?”
    Leo and I talked shop for a few minutes, and I had poured my second cup of liquid death when Marty emerged from the bedroom in all his morning glory.
    “Marty! Put some pants on, for crying out loud!”
    “I don’t have any clean pants. I don’t have any clean clothes at all.” Unabashed by his nudity, Marty started for the fridge and slowed when he caught sight of Leopold. “How’s it hanging, man?”
    “A little to the left.” Leopold’s lips quirked as he took in an eye full.
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Marty, there are kids in the house, and we have company!”
    I made a bee-line for the laundry room door where I extracted a pair of Neil’s sweats and tossed them at my brother’s head. He pulled the pants on without comment and returned his attention to the refrigerator.
    “You’re thirty years old, I’m sure you’ve used a washing machine before!”
    Marty poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed half before answering. “Yeah, I have, at laundromats, but you have all those rules and regulations, and I don’t want to evoke the wrath of the Laundry Hag.”
    I narrowed my eyes. I was really starting to hate that name. “Fine, I’ll do your wash, you big baby.”
    Marty grinned at me and took his juice back down the hall.
    “I’ve been played,” I said to no one in particular.
    “Like a violin in the Boston orchestra.” Leo shook his head in disgust. “You’re not doing him any favors by catering to him. As long as you treat him like a child, he’ll continue to act like one.”
    My guilt over Marty’s life-long debacles was well documented, catalogued, and labeled as being wasted energy, but I couldn’t seem to break the pattern.
    I retrieved my brother’s clothes from the floor and put on a load of whites, muttering all the while.

    * * * *
    “Hey, Uncle Scrooge, have you seen the wheelbarrow?” Neil appeared in the kitchen doorway. “We’re supposed to be getting some rain this weekend, and I wanted to dump the leaves in the creek out back.”
    This was going to be tricky, especially with Marty and Leo bearing witness. “Someone stole it.”
    Neil stuck his finger in his ear, like he was cleaning it out. “Come again?”
    “Someone took the wheelbarrow. I went to put some stuff in it and it wasn’t where I left it, so the logical conclusion is that someone stole it.”
    Leo stuffed celery and bit his bottom lip to hold back his laughter, and Marty took a swig from the beer bottle he’d been nursing.
    “The logical conclusion…,” Neil repeated. “Logical. That just doesn’t seem to apply to the theft of an antique wheelbarrow. That’s Monty Python logic if ever I heard it.”
    “Do you think we should report it?” I asked, all big-eyed innocence.
    “What the hell, the cops working on a holiday deserve a good laugh.” Neil went to make the call, and I smacked Leo on the shoulder.
    “It isn’t funny!”
    “Au contraire, this is not just funny, it’s hilarious!” Leo actually giggle-snorted, which got Marty going, and my indignation dissolved into genuine amusement. It was comical, even more so since I was the only one who knew I’d maneuvered the stinking thing to the grocery store where it was pilfered. I guess the next time the car broke down and I decided to push a wheelbarrow to the supermarket, I should bring a bicycle chain and padlock.
    I regained a bit of composure, and since my