The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag by Jennifer L. Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

instead.
    Neil cut his gaze to me briefly. “I’d bet my left nut on it.”
    * * * *
    “Why is there a camper in front of our house?” Neil squinted at said vehicle through the grimy windshield of my Mini.
    “I have no idea. Maybe one of the neighbors is having company from out of town?” I suggested. Neil parked behind the vehicle which blocked most of our driveway.
    “Maggie, this is Massachusetts. People go south during the winter, since you’d have to be a kook to visit in February.”
    He had a point. I sure as hell wouldn’t load up a gas-guzzling RV and hit the road for Hudson to play chicken with a Nor’easter during the winter.
    Neil exited the car and I stepped into a giant pile of slush, soaking my left foot as the muck spilled over the top of my ankle high boot. The gray sky held the threat of more snow, with heavily pregnant clouds looking ready to pop.
    “I’m going to ask around and see who this thing belongs to and request the owner move it so we can park in our driveway.” Neil was already heading across the street.
    I squished my way to the front porch and then let out a groan. I realized Neil had my key ring. Crap, now what? I couldn’t call Neil since my cell was dead and I really didn’t want to wait for frostbite to set in. The thermometer was reading in the single digits. I dug in my black shoulder bag, hoping to unearth a spare when my front door swung open.
    “Marty!” I squealed and threw my arms around my brother’s neck. I hadn’t heard from him since before the holidays and I’d lost quite a bit of sleep worrying about him. I should have known better. Marty, like an oil slick, always managed to ooze his way to the surface.
    “What’s up, Laundry Hag?” My younger brother returned my hug with interest.
    “Same old, same old. How about you?” I shucked my parka and leaned against the door, forcing my numb fingers to unlace the saturated boot.
    “Well, a lot actually,” Marty grinned and chucked his thumb toward the camper. “Did you check out my new wheels?”
    The boot resisted and I used my other foot to toe it off with a slurping sound. “You’re kidding, right? Sprout, are you out of your mind?”
    Marty immediately went on the defensive. “It was a sound investment. I bought it off this guy who’d inherited it last summer. Got it for a sweet deal, Maggs, and I needed the room.”
    “For your collection of skin flicks and beer caps?” I asked, feeling my blood pressure heading for a new high. Damn, Neil was going to be pissed about the camper. And about Marty’s return. My brother had a nasty habit of popping up at the worst of times, mooching his little heart out, reeking general havoc in my house and leaving at the height of the chaos. Neil put up with him for the same reason I dealt with his mother, because we loved each other and therefore had no other option.
    Marty got large, filling up the doorway to my living room with his imposing girth. “Get off your high-horse. You don’t know the first thing about my situation.”
    “Of course I don’t. You don’t freaking talk to me! The only time you show up on my doorstep is when you’re in over your head and you need me to fix something!” Exasperated, I skidded on the wet parquet floor and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower was in order if I was in for Neil vs. Marty, the cage match.
    “Maggie, wait!” Marty shouted but I held up a hand, not wanting to deal at the moment. I turned the door knob and pushed open the bathroom door.
    A woman was seated in my bathtub, neck deep in bubbles. Her eyes were closed and she had ear buds in, so she didn’t turn at my startled cry. Peony pink toes tapped on the faucet of the garden tub in time to the music.
    I stared for a minute, wondering if my mind had snapped like a dry twig. Who was she and why was she in my tub and, by the scent of things, helping herself to my lilac bubble bath? Marty pounded on the door and I reached behind my back for the handle.