Skeletons in the Closet by Jennifer L. Hart Read Free Book Online Page B

going to ask her what was going on when I noticed the reflection in the mirror above the vanity.
    Not again.
    Mrs. Kline was shown in profile in the mirror, so at least she hadn’t seen us. She’d shed her unflattering dress in favor of her birthday suit and was bent over her very expensive duvet, moaning in ecstasy. The man behind her, and I do mean behind, was not Mr. Kline, unless Mr. Kline had increased in both height and muscle tone since Monday night. And had managed to shed about twenty years.
    I’m sorry to say this isn’t the first time I’ve walked in on people having sex. Nor is it the first time I’ve walked in on people having sex who weren’t supposed to be having sex. In fact, I think this might be my modus operandi.
    The worst part about this type of discovery is that I’ve never figured out a way to exit with my dignity intact. Each time, I’ve stood there, wondering what I should do next. One might think I could develop a battle plan, like I had for the supermarket, but until it happens to you, you won’t understand the reaction. It takes all of my energy not to laugh.
    Or cry. Or scream.
    Mr. I’m-not-Mr. Kline was really getting his groove on. A heart pierced by an arrow tattoo decorated his left shoulder blade. For some reason, that made me sad because in this case the pierced heart would belong to creepy Mr. Kline. Of course, Kline could at this very moment be engaged in a similar situation with a woman who wasn’t his wife. The fact that Mrs. Kline’s naked form resembled an age-spotted turkey carcass after Thanksgiving dinner was little solace.
    The moaning increased to a fever pitch, and I was pretty sure we needed to either back out of the room now or risk discovery. Thankfully, Francesca made the decision and closed the door.
    “Um, I think I’ll come back for my phone at a more convenient time,” I said.
    Francesca looked at me and shook her head. We took the stairs at a trot and didn’t stop until we were both outside. Francesca lost it and began to giggle hysterically, and I couldn’t help but join her.
    “I guess my sister has her own kind of relaxation planned for this afternoon,” Frannie said as she gasped for air. “That’ll teach me to call first.”

Chapter Four
     
    D espite the wheezing cackles we’d been reduced to, I thought Francesca and I handledthe situation with a surprising amount of style. When we ran out of breath, we each made some sincere sounding apologies and excused ourselves. Of course, as soon as I’d recovered, I started laughing again. I wiped tears from my eyes on the way home and had barely regained control by the time I picked the boys up from school.
    The boys have had karate every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from the time they turned five. Neil and I agreed early on that it’s important for the boys to learn self-discipline and confidence. Martial arts do both, plus it gives them something to focus on outside of school. I was glad to see that the local martial arts center offered classes around the same time, so their schedules weren’t completely jolted when we moved.
    “How’s it going, guys?” I asked and wiped the last few tears of amusement from my eyes.
    Kenny and Josh looked at me funny and clambered into the back of the car. I’d driven to the Intel plant and swapped cars with Neil, since the two-seater Cloud of Death wasn’t something I wanted to transport the kids in. Besides, if I showed up in the van at the school, Kenny and Josh would probably pretend they didn’t know me and get on the bus. The poor kids still have to learn that embarrassment is a part of life, and who better to ease young boys into that unfortunate reality than a wacky mom?
    “Jimmy Kendal picked his nose until it bled in the middle of the spelling test. He had to go to the nurse to get it to stop. And then he had to retake the test because the first one was all bloody,” Kenny told me with relish.
    “That’s horrible; I hope you didn’t make