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

have you told them?” As Neil helped me to the couch, I shot my brother a dirty look.
    “What?” Marty raised his arms in a helpless gesture. “I said their mom helped the police catch a killer and that you were very brave. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have an appointment.”
    “Easy, guys. Mom hit her head and needs to rest, so don’t pester her, okay?”
    “I’m glad you’re okay, Mom.” Josh wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a fierce hug. Not to be outdone, Kenny snuggled into my chest.
    I let the tears spill out of my eyes, pleased I’d lucked out.
    “Tell you what, guys, go do your homework, and I’ll order us some pizzas for dinner. We can watch some movies and stay up late.” As always, Neil to the rescue.
    Kenny and Josh scampered off, and Neil crouched on the floor next to me. “Can I get you anything?”
    “Some water would be great.”
    Neil retrieved my drink and handed it to me. “By the way, there were about twelve messages on the machine for Laundry Hag Inc. What do you want me to do about them?”
    I didn’t know. Part of me wanted to throw in the towel and go back to the stay-at-home mom bit, but I did like having something to do during the long, lonely days. “What do you think I should do?”
    “I think you should take it a day at a time. I’ll return the calls and say you’re out of commission for a while and that you’ll get back to them when you’re up to it.”
    “I want to be a little pickier if I do go back into it. Make my own hours, so I’m off when you are and when the boys need me.”
    “We’ll hammer out the details later. By the way, what have you been charging?”
    “Fifteen dollars an hour. That was pretty much covering the gas and cleaning supplies, plus my partner’s cut.”
    Neil shook his head. “It’s no wonder that so many people are trying to reach you. I did a little online research last night, and the going rates for a cleaning service in this area working on houses the size you were is $150 per visit. That’s ten hours of labor at your current rates.
    “Neil, you’re killing me.” I thought of all the scrubbing and scouring I’d done, not to mention the stress. Knowing that I’d been shortchanging myself only made my head pound harder. “I’m injured here, have a heart.”
    “Don’t think of it as all the money you could have made, imagine how much you will make. That’s a ton of garage-sale spending money for Uncle Scrooge.”
    I put a pillow over my head and waved him away, but he yanked it from my face.
    “Hey, Maggs, I’ve been thinking and um….”
    He didn’t meet my gaze, or at least I don’t think he did, and he toed his sock-encased foot into the carpet. Who was this shy guy in SEAL’s clothing?
    “I know my timing stinks, but I think we could benefit from some counseling.”
    “Counseling?” He’d have to forgive me for sounding like a nitwit, but I did have a concussion.
    “Yeah, I mean, we’ve been fighting so much lately, and you said some stuff the other day—”
    “Neil, it was Thanksgiving. No one means what they say on Thanksgiving.” My voice shook, which startled me almost as much as what my gorgeous husband, who I loved more than anything on the planet, was suggesting. We weren’t that couple.
    Were we?
    He must have picked up on the fear in my eyes. “No, Maggie, it isn’t like that. I think we need to get some stuff off of our chests so we can have a stronger relationship.”
    I knew those words, and they were not Neil originals. “Did Sylvia suggest this?”
    Neil blew air between his teeth. “It’s still a good idea, don’t you think?”
    My laughter turned into a moan as my skull throbbed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had split apart like an over ripe melon. “Can we talk about this later?”
    “As you wish, Uncle Scrooge.”

    * * * *
    Marty arrived home after I’d finished taking a Neil-assisted shower and donned my muumuu.
    “Hey Maggs, you up to a little company?” My brother helped me to the sofa, which was still short a slipcover.
    “Not really, Ma—” But my objection was cut off when a pale-faced woman with dishwater blond hair and keen brown eyes entered behind him.
    Neil’s patience snapped. “Damn it, Marty, your sister is hurt. This is not a good time to introduce her to one of your tarts!”
    “Neil!” I interjected, but my usually laid-back husband was on a roll.
    “Can you possibly be more of an immature asshole, Marty? All you ever