Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Maggie?” It was Sylvia. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. In all the commotion Eric forgot to bring my suitcase to the hospital and he just went home to get it. Would you keep an eye out for him and ask him to bring the new blanket his mother sent? I had just put it in the dryer when you showed up and it didn’t make the suitcase.”

  This was not a chore I wanted. “Did you try calling him?”

  “He left it on the nightstand here. He wanted to be out and get back before visiting hours ended. I left a message on the machine at home but he never thinks to check that.”

  “Not a problem,” I said even as I grimaced at Neil. Talking to Eric was not high on my list of favorite activities. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.” Sylvia sounded tired but not half the hot mess I’d probably be after giving birth. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Get some rest,” I disconnected and rolled my eyes. “We need to tell the baby-daddy to pack the blanket that Sylvia left in the dryer.”

  “I’ll handle it. You look beat. Why don’t you go try and lie down for a while.”

  I was sorely tempted. “What about dinner?”

  Neil gestured down the hall to the boy’s closed bedroom door. “We’ll handle it.”

  Kenny and Josh were no help in the kitchen, unless you counted eating everything as help. A teen and a preteen’s appetite were scary things, especially for the individual in charge of their meals. Feeding lions at the zoo was less dangerous.

  “If you’re sure?” I extended an arm to Neil so he could help shift me from sitting to standing. When he and the boys weren’t home, I resorted to rolling off onto the floor, getting onto all fours like a dog and crawling to the sturdy end table to heave myself up. I had nightmares that I’d go into labor in that position and be unable to finish the maneuver.

  “I’m sure. I’ll handle the Eric thing too.” Though Neil disapproved of Sylvia’s ex’s cheating ways, the guy code made it somehow okay for him to engage in friendly conversation with the shmuck. As Sylvia’s friend-in-progress I was supposed to do the whole forgive and forget thing and accept Eric as part of the neighborhood. It hadn’t happened yet, I couldn’t just drop a well-honed grudge. Next life, I was signing up to be a man.

  Atlas followed me down the hall and leapt up onto the bed before I even had the door to the bedroom closed. He rolled around on his back, groaning and kicking like this was the best activity in the history of the world. He paused, one big eye staring up at me as though inviting me to partake in the event.

  “I don’t think so, pal.” I shooed him off and he gave me a baleful look before leaping down and charging back to the living room.

  The covers were a mess. I hadn’t made the bed that morning and the dog’s antics hadn’t done anything to improve the situation. One of my extra special OCD issues was that I couldn’t sleep in an unmade bed. Heaving a sigh, I shook the covers out, lumbering from Neil’s side back to mine to execute hospital corners and shake as much dog hair off as possible. It floated with the dust motes in the late afternoon sun that streamed through the windows.

  I’d just finished the last fold and stepped back to admire my handiwork when the bedroom door opened. Atlas charged but a quick command from Neil had him freezing in place. He looked over his shoulder and wagged at his master.

  “Sorry to do this to you,” Neil began and I groaned when I saw his cell phone in hand.

  I blew out a breath that made my lips vibrate. “Let me guess. Work called?”

  “Yeah and there’s still no sign of Eric so you’re going to have to relay the message.”

  “Frick.” I sat on the edge of the bed, glad at least that I hadn’t laid down. “Okay, well change of plans.”

  Neil scrutinized my face. “I can call them back. You really do look tired.”

  “Being nine months pregnant will do that to a girl. Go on, I’ve got the helm.”

  “I owe you, Uncle Scrooge.” Neil kissed me on the forehead, gave the belly a pat and took off.

  I used the bathroom, something I did about fifty thousand times a day now. After I was done, I knocked on the door to Kenny and Josh’s room.

  “What?” Josh called.

  I opened the door. “Is that any way to answer the door?”

  This question was promptly ignored. Josh was flat on his back, staring at some YouTube video featuring guys with Nerf guns and real sound effects. Kenny was parked in the office chair he’d pilfered, gaze locked on the umpteenth zillion level of SkyQuest, his latest gaming obsession.

  “It’s beautiful outside, like seventy degrees and breezy. You guys should go out for awhile.”

  Neither turned a hair.

  “Sylvia had the baby.” I tried. “A little girl.”

  Nada. Zip. Zero. Ziltch. These two would clean up in high stakes poker.

  “If I don’t see your eyes in five seconds, I’ll cut the power line to the house.” I said sweetly.

  “No!” Josh cried, sitting up abruptly and actually making eye contact. Kenny was too busy frantically saving his progress in case his crazy mother’s threat wasn’t empty. I doubt I’d go that far but I’d gotten in the habit of periodically changing the Wi-Fi password and not giving them the new one until they did their chores.

  “That’s better.” I smiled when Kenny had turned around. “Your dad had to go back to work. What do you guys want for dinner?”

  “Pizza.” Josh said.

  “Chinese.” Kenny said, posture ridged, the way Atlas got when he was about to tree a squirrel.

  “I didn’t mean take out. I was going to cook something.”

  They stared at me blankly.

  “Come on guys, real food. Maybe even a salad.”

  “Whatever.” This was Josh’s go-to response.

  Kenny was a little better. “Sure.”

  Translation, as long as you leave and let us go back to what we were doing.

  I huffed out a sigh and trundled down the hall to the kitchen, Atlas close on my heels.

  I checked Sylvia’s driveway but saw no sign of Eric’s silver Lexus so I got on with dinner preparation. Neil had gotten me the Echo Dot for Valentine’s Day—probably so I had someone else to order around. I thought a little music might fill the gaping silence in the house. Something to get my mind off the constant mantra of give birth already.

  “Alexa, play Bobby Darin.”

  “Playing Bobby Darin.” The robotic female voice informed me and I had a little Mack the Knife to go along with the pasta carbonara and green salad prep.

  Thirty minutes later I’d set the last dish down on the kitchen table. “Josh, Kenny, dinner!”

  There was an audible creek of bedsprings and then the sound of feet stomping down the hall. Mack had segued into Beyond the Sea and was now on Dream Lover.

  “Alexa, stop.” I told the device, wanting an actual shot at conversation with the boys. As much as I wanted to evict Baby X from my uterus as soon as possible, I felt the need to spend some time with the boys.

  The music paused a beat, then kept playing.

  “Alexa, stop the music.” I repeated.

  The music stopped

  I trudged to the fridge and plucked out the jug of cucumber water I’d made the day before. It was no sweet red wine, but it was better than plain water.

  Dream Lover started up again.

  “Alexa, what the hell?” I asked.

  The music paused. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the answer to your question what the hell.” The music resumed.

  “Alexa, stop!” I shrieked, on the verge of yanking her plug right out of the wall.

  Then I heard the snickering.

  Josh had my phone, the one with the Alexa app that could control the music player. He and his brother were crouched behind the half wall, watching me lose my mind.

  “Cute guys. Real cute.” I couldn’t be too mad at them though. It was nice to see them interacting with another human being, even if it was for my exploitation. “Josh, let th
e dog out, Kenny get him his dinner.”

  I’d just sat down when I remembered about Eric. “Josh, did you see Mr. Wright’s car in the driveway?”

  “Yup.”

  Crap. I didn’t know if he was heading back to the hospital right away. The thought flitted across my mind that I could send one of the boys. They were faster on their feet and wouldn’t get stuck chatting it up with the slime bag. Problem was if Eric told Sylvia that I’d sent one of the kids she would think it was because I didn’t want to deal with Eric and then the neighborhood tension would be back in full force.

  “Just suck it up, Maggie.” I grumbled and heaved myself back to standing.

  “Am I wearing shoes?” I asked, wiggling my toes, unable to feel much of anything but aches.

  Josh glanced down at me feet. “Yup.”

  “Skippy. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Atlas, having already wolfed down the mountain of dog food that consisted of one of his servings was eyeballing my pasta bowl.

  “Don’t even think about it.” I scooped the bowl up and stuck it in the microwave. It wouldn’t stop him from eating my dinner if he was really determined, but it would slow him down.

  I pocketed my cell and then headed out the back door and through our gate. The sun was at the horizon, the sky a deep shade of blue purple that would soon fade to black. I circled the Lexus’s bumper and headed up the walkway to the front door.

  It stood wide open.

  “Eric?” I called, rapping my knuckles against the door sharply. “Hello?”

  Nothing. Maybe he was in the bedroom and couldn’t hear me.

  “Sylvia called me,” I continued to speak as I crossed the threshold, hoping he’d pop out. The house was giving me a major case of the creeps.

  Rounding the corner of the living room, I continued to prattle though I was no longer aware of what was coming out of my mouth. My heart pounded and my palms began to sweat. There was no sign of Eric in the living room and he wasn’t in the kitchen or the dining room. The bathroom door stood open and so was the bedroom. I paused my verbal diarrhea to listen for any sound of a large man rushing around, slamming drawers or heavy footsteps.

  Sylvia’s suitcase sat open on a blanket chest at the end of the bed. I checked the dryer and found the baby blanket. The house remained eerily still and utterly empty.

  Eric was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Two

  “Is it time?” Neil asked when he picked up my call.

  I was back in our house with the door firmly locked and peering out past the curtains in case Eric reappeared. “No, but I have another problem. Eric’s gone.”

  I could almost hear the sound of his mental train shifting tracks. “Define gone.”

  “As in I went next door and his car is there, the front door was wide open and he was gone. Sylvia’s suitcase was still sitting out. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Bring her the suitcase.”

  “I mean about Eric.”

  “I know what you meant but I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Should I call the cops?” Not that they’d been especially helpful the last time I’d reported a missing person. Of course that time it had been Sylvia, who’d been holed up with Eric.

  I could hear the worry in Neil’s voice when he said, “Not unless there was any sign

  of violence. Was there?”

  “No mysterious pools of blood or smashed lamps if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Then wait for him to show up. Maybe he ran out to talk to one of the other neighbors.”

  “Maybe.” Or maybe he’s shacked up with another ho-bag.

  “Listen Maggie, I have to go. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I tapped the inert phone against my thigh and stared at the house next door. If I hadn’t been gestating like a freaking elephant I probably could have shrugged off Eric’s disappearing trick. Problem was, the rational part of my brain, the part that told me to keep my head down and mind my own beeswax wasn’t dominant at the best of times. Add in a monkey-butt ton of hormones and I’d already assumed several versions of the absolute worst.

  Be logical. What were the facts? Eric wasn’t thinking straight, otherwise he never would have left his phone at the hospital. It was entirely possible that he’d been heading into the house and elderly Mrs. Cummings from across the street had waved him over, suckered him in with some homemade cookies in exchange for details on the baby, maybe help with her garbage. Maybe crazy John Ashboro with the beer keg spilling over his belt and booming voice like thunder had lured him down to his rec room for a celebratory scotch that had turned into three and he was passed out on the shag carpet. Or maybe he had a mistress. Again.

  I’d touched the hood of the Lexus on my way past and it had still been warm. Eric hadn’t been gone long. Maybe Neil was right and I just had to wait for him to reappear.

  The problem was my instincts screamed that something was off. Eric and Sylvia had split once because of his philandering. He hadn’t even been apologetic over cheating on her. Sylvia had forgiven him and then gotten pregnant with no more said to me anyway about their previous problems. I wouldn’t put it past Eric to abandon her and their newborn daughter before either was released from the hospital if the mood struck.

  It was a nice neat explanation that fit well with my worldview. The mistress theory didn’t hold water because of the car. Eric might leave his own wife and child but he loved that car and would have taken it with him. I’d seen no signs that he’d hastily packed up his own belongings. The house looked as cool and immaculate as ever, with the exception of the open front door. So what to do about Sylvia, fresh from childbirth and wanting her bag of new mommy stuff? And probably expecting Eric back anytime now? A year ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to drive to the hospital with the bag, give her every detail and let her decide for herself. Our thick as thieves dynamic was long buried under bruised pride and hurt feelings. I worried she’d shoot the messenger if I suggested Eric might have freaked out over being a father, hired an Uber driver and scuttled off to the nearest watering hole. Or had a mistress pick his lousy carcass up and driven off into the sunset, abandoning her again.

  I could tell her what I’d found, house with the door wide open and no Eric in sight. Just the facts, Ma’am. But knowing Sylvia, and I did know her even if we were no longer on the best terms, she’d worry. Of course she’d also worry if Eric just didn’t show up. If it were me and Neil wasn’t back when he said he’d be, I’d be burning up the phone, checking hospitals and morgues.

  Then again I was completely neurotic.

  There were no solid answers in my current situation, no decision that I could point to and say, “Yup, that’s the one.”

  “Crap,” I paced the length of the hall. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.”

  Atlas whined at me, pawing at the back door. Speaking of crap....

  “No boy, you need to stay in here and protect us.” From what I had no idea. If an actual bad guy showed up to abduct me and the boys, Atlas would most likely bring him a tennis ball as a welcome gift.

  The dog started to pant and paced back and forth, eyes looking frantic.

  I blew out a defeated sigh and set my phone on the counter. “All right.” I was still freaked out but my issues took a backseat to cleaning Mount Crapperhorn off my carpet.

  I flicked on the floodlight to the backyard, checked for large knuckle draggers and finding none, opened the door. Atlas bolted to the far corner where grass no longer grew, hunched and relieved himself. I shut the door before the wind shifted and I caught a whiff and my cell rang.

  “Please don’t be Sylvia,” I implored any benevolent deity who might be listening. “Please please please don’t be Sylvia.”

  I looked down at the photo on the screen and winced. Whatever god had been tuning me in had a sick sense of humor. I slid the answer unlock over and held the phone to my ear. “Hi Laura.”

  “Maggie,” my mother-in-law demanded. “Where are
you?”

  “Home,” I breathed the word, hoping the answer would be the correct one. Something about interacting with Neil’s mother always made me feel like a third grader who’d been caught cheating on a test.

  “Good, I’ll be there in five minutes. I have a surprise for you.” She disconnected, leaving me to gape in horror at the phone.

  Five minutes, was she serious? I looked around the kitchen in absolute horror. My gaze slid to the microwave where my uneaten dinner still waited, the air still heavy with garlic. The mess of plates and cups sitting abandoned on the kitchen table. Pots and pans were stacked in the sink and at some point Atlas had knocked the olive oil off the counter.

  The living room wasn’t any better. Neil had left the mail on my end table on top of the three pregnancy books I’d been reading. A basket of laundry awaited my attention in the far corner and the boys had dumped their back packs in the hallway again. Every flat surface was coated with dog hair and two of the couch cushions sported big oily paw prints. When had my cute little house turned into a total pigsty?

  I bent to straighten the throw blanket on the edge of the couch and a back spasm seized me. I froze in place and breathed deeply. “If you’re on the way to save me from Laura, you are officially my favorite child,” I murmured to Baby X.

  There was a kick and the twinge eased. No such luck.

  Maybe I could fake labor.

  “Kenny! Josh!” I hollered.

  Feet thundered down the hall and then they appeared in all their surly pubescent glory.

  “Your grandmother will be here in,” I checked the time on my phone. “Less than three and a half minutes. Help me clean up.”

  “Mom,” Josh began.

  I held up a hand. “No time to argue, you take the kitchen. Load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops. Watch out for the oil, throw a dog towel over it so no one slips. Kenny, help me in here.”

  No time to dust or vacuum, even if I’d been in the condition to do so. Kenny tackled the shoes and backpacks, lugging the haul back to their room while I turned the cushions oil side down. I picked up the mail and books and huffed out air and blew the dog hair behind the end table as best I could, the entire time thinking oh how the mighty have fallen.