Down on Love by Jayne Denker Read Free Book Online Page A

jobs.”
    “This is a real job. And I have plenty of real problems.”
    “Sure you do.”
    “Yo, Miss Gotta-Have-the-Last-Word,” George called to her retreating back. “This isn’t over.”
    “I’m putting Amelia down for her nap. Stop shouting.”
    George turned to Jaz. It was worse than she thought. And definitely worse than she remembered. Jaz merely shrugged her right shoulder a bit—a small move that wouldn’t give her injured back a painful twinge. “She’s your sister. You explain it to me.”
    “I have no freakin’ idea.”

Chapter 5
    “Come on, Amelia. Open up your gob for auntie.”
    Apparently little Amelia liked the word “gob,” because she started giggling hysterically.
    “Gob,” George said again, stifling a yawn as she leaned toward her niece, who sat in her high chair, kicking mightily under the tray. “Gob, gob, gob.”
    Amelia’s giggles turned to screaming squeals.
    “Oops. That’s a bit much. Your mommies are still sleeping. How about some rice cereal? Some peaches?” George waggled the plastic spoon in front of her mouth. “Come on, kid—don’t make me do stupid airplane noises. Eat!”
    Amelia squealed again, gave a mighty shove, and before George could react, the small plastic bowl of rice cereal was upside down on the linoleum.
    “Gosh, you’re more like your bio-mother every day.” Impressed with herself, the little moppet squealed again. “Yeah, yeah. Good thing you’re cute.” George got up, grabbed a wad of paper towels and turned on the kitchen faucet. Nothing came out. Now she knew why Sera whacked it every time she used the sink. It wouldn’t pony up any water unless it was beaten awake. She gave the single handle a shove upward, this time with more success, and dampened the paper towels. “ And good thing that pile of food on the floor isn’t making much of a difference in here. Do your mommies ever clean? I mean, like, ever?”
    “You got a problem with our housekeeping skills?”
    George glanced over her shoulder as she cleaned up the spill. Her sister leaned in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. George folded over the paper towels and wiped up the rest of the mess. “This place is filthy. Mom would have a heart attack.”
    Sera stepped over George, avoiding the damp, newly clean spot on the floor revealing the linoleum to be cream with small blue flowers instead of tan, and kissed the top of her daughter’s head on her way to the coffee. “I don’t have time to keep this place pristine. It’s low on my list of priorities.”
    “Tell it to the Health Department. They should be getting a whiff of this place and will probably show up any day now. Honestly, Sera, this is awful.”
    George swept her hand around to indicate the gritty floor, cluttered countertops, spattered stove, and smudged front of the fridge. And the mess wasn’t confined to just the kitchen. She’d also found herself picking her way gingerly through the living room, hopscotching over clutter all over the floor; she was afraid of what might crawl out from behind the toilet if she sat there too long; and she could barely tolerate the state of her old bedroom, which looked like a good location for an upcoming episode of Storage Wars . There were so many cardboard boxes, plastic bags, and laundry baskets piled high with junk she’d thought she was at the bottom of a well when she’d first opened her eyes that morning.
    “I’m pretty sure a sentient life form tried to communicate with me from the back of the microwave. God, to think of how clean Mom and Dad used to keep this place when we were little—”
    “You mean how clean we used to keep this place.”
    “Chores happen. So what is this, delayed rebellion? Are you getting back at Mom and Dad by refusing to ever clean the house again?”
    “Of course not.” Sera sipped at her coffee, her eyes narrowing against the steam rising from the mug. “Have you forgotten I’m a potter?”
    “How could I, when you remind me of it