The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

possibilities.
    “For heaven’s sakes, what’s the matter with you today? One might think you were—” Laura snapped her teeth together with an audible click.
    I sniffled and reached for the pack of tissues in my cup holder. “What were you about to say?”
    Laura shook her head, her champion poker face firmly in place. The drive progressed in silence.

    * * * *
    “And without further delay, I give you the woman of the hour.” The speaker clapped as she stepped away from the podium. Having never been to a retirement luncheon before, I’d entered the posh hotel conference room clueless, but education was quick to slap me upside the head. We sat at a table near the dais, front and center with a clear view of the women on the stage. The gathering wasn’t a ladies who do lunch affair, it was a feminist rally, each speaker driving home the point that a woman could and should do anything.
    Except pee standing up. I thought to myself, but having no cronies with me, I contained my snark and tried to look engrossed in what the speaker said. The guest of honor was probably in her late sixties with diamond ice chips for eyes, and had an impressive resume. A self-made millionaire, who’d gone to college on a full academic scholarship—one of the first females to do so—and she’d amassed several rallies for equal rights during her tenure. In her spare moments, she’d studied political science and had been of critical importance to the Massachusetts state government. Unfortunately, all of her time moving in political circles had rubbed off and she droned on for what seemed like hours. While I admired her accomplishments, I wished I could admire them from a greater distance.
    Surreptitiously, I glanced at Laura, who’d introduced me as “my daughter-in-law who runs her own business,” to everyone we’d hobnobbed with. If anyone asked for further details, which few of them did, Laura made some vague reply and changed the subject. Her gaze was locked on the woman at the podium, and I puzzled over her. Obviously, Laura wanted to hide my cleaning lady status. She’d never approved of my desire to be home for the boys, but despite the progressive message of the afternoon, I knew most of the women in this room hired people just like me to take care of the nitty-gritty, be it answering phones, doing the laundry or scrubbing their porcelain thrones. So why had she forced me to come to this event? It didn’t make sense, but I planned on hashing it out with her on the ride home.
    The speaker took a breath and my cell phone went off. Laura glared at me as I’m Too Sexy resounded in the lull.
    “’Scuse me,” I smiled at the speaker and scooted for the exited. The phoney expression fell away as soon as I was in the clear and I flipped the phone open. “Great timing Neil,” I said, letting the sarcasm drip.
    “Did I pull you away from something riveting?” I could hear the smile in his voice and my heart stuttered.
    “How’s your day going?” I asked, hoping he’d reveal what had gone on after he left.
    “A cesspool of stupidity, and that’s being kind. Sweet Jesus, I sound like my mother.” Mock horror drifted through the phone.
    I laughed, since I’d thought the same thing. “You still want to meet up for dinner tonight?”
    “It’ll have to be late, if that’s okay. We have union engineers coming in and they have very specific hours, which us non-union plebes need to work around.”
    “How late is late?” I asked as my eyelids slid down. So damn tired.
    “I was thinking eight. You decide where you wanna go?”
    “How about that pub we went to after we moved here, you know with Sylvie and—” I swallowed, attempting not to choke on the memory.
    If Neil picked up on my mood, he didn’t say anything. “Okay, I’ll meet you there at eight. Oh, I meant to ask, any word on Candie Valentino?”
    “Detective Capri won’t return my calls and I’d rather be filleted than traipse into the Hudson police station without a reason. Besides, it’s not like I’m in the inner circle when it comes to the Valentinos. No matter how worried I am about Candie, it really isn’t any of my business.” Wow, I almost believed the words I’d spoken.
    Neil didn’t call me on my fib. “I gotta go now, Uncle Scrooge. I’ll see ya at eight.”
    I closed the phone and opened my eyes. A woman was staring at me from the alcove by the restrooms. I wondered if I’d been talking loudly, having never quite mastered a