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

neighborhood is built on a series of rolling hills and the bright sun sparkled off the snow covered rooftops below. Mid-morning on a weekday, no neighbors were out and about since I’m the only stay-at-home mom in the community. Just as well, since I didn’t particularly want any witnessed as I stumble/ran.
    Jogging has never been my forte and I lasted maybe a minute before I decreased my unsteady lope to a brisk walk. My mother had always said I was one of those girls who couldn’t do two things at once, and bless her skeptical soul, she was right. Neither my irascible brother nor I could walk and chew gum, let alone jog and think. Since I didn’t want to think about Josh locking himself in the bathroom, Eric getting serviced by the Fran Dresher look-alike or my husband thinking our marriage needed an intervention, I picked up my pace again. My muscles were strong, built from years of vigorous cleaning and frenetic mothering, but I couldn’t seem to get my breathing under control.
    Stumble, step, wheeze, stumble step wheeze. I focused on inhaling through my nose, shoving oxygen down into my lungs by force of will. After another indeterminable amount of time— maybe forty seconds— I slowed again and gasped for breath. This was ridiculous, my husband could run a five minute mile and he was pushing forty! Granted, he had the benefit of BUD/s training, the hardcore physical conditioning required for a man to become a Navy SEAL, but Neil was a natural athlete and made his health a priority.
    As I struggled for air, my gaze landed on the Kline mansion situated on top of the hill. Last I knew, Mr. Kline had put the house up for sale and was off being strange in some other neighborhood. He was a decent, if wacky man, but I wished I’d never met him. My life had spiraled out of control the moment I’d set foot in his house and I wanted it back.
    Determination burned in the pit of my stomach and I started off again. I was tired of my pity party, tired of being the laughingstock of the Hudson P.D. Tired of fretting about my family and friends, tired of jumping every time a door slammed or a car backfired. That sick S.O.B had already taken enough in his quest for vengeance, and he couldn’t hurt me anymore. I needed to get some control over my life. Neil had told me the men who made it all the way through the zealous training and into the SEAL teams shared one common trait, absolute resolve. They saw the trident pin at the end and unflinchingly worked to attain it.
    Well I wanted to be fit and fabulous, or at least be able to run a freaking mile if I wanted. My cell phone rang and I praised the Lord and slowed to retrieve it from my pants pocket. Rome wasn’t built in a day after all.
    “Hello?” I rasped into the phone. Crap, one would think I’d been having a smoking contest with the Marlboro Man.
    “Maggie my love, where are you?” Leo sang into the phone. Ever upbeat and energetic, Leo is a housekeeper for my in-laws and my best bud, after Neil, for close to a decade. He’s worked for Laura for almost as long and is the only person I know who calls her a gorgon to her face. Why she hasn’t fired him is still a mystery, but I suspect it has something to do with his triple chocolate cake. Gorgons need to eat, too.
    “You’re in a good mood.” I observed.
    “Why talk when you can sing? Why walk when you can dance?” Leo sighed dreamily and it clicked into place.
    “Uh oh, you met someone. Where and what’s he like? Come on Leo, dish.”
    “Perhaps I’m happy just because the sun is shining and here I have a few minutes to talk to my very best friend. Does everything in the world need to be about a man?”
    “Yes,” we answered at the same time and laughed.
    “So come on, get to the juicy stuff. What does he look like?” No man would ever be good enough for my pal, not only is he a total peach on a fast track for sainthood, he looks a bit like a mature Jude Law, only less broody. Chances were good that I’d feel the same way about both Kenny and Josh when they started dating, so smothering Leo was good practice.
    “Where are you?” Leo asked again.
    “Where are you?” I shot back and moved over to the side of the road to let a car pass. Instead, the vehicle slowed and the window rolled down to reveal a grinning Leo.
    “Want some candy, little girl?”
    “You’re a sick, sick man. How did you find me?” I shut my phone and climbed into the car.
    “I went to your house first and when no