Dedication
For my beloved husband Scott:
Because you still don’t believe me when I tell you Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie.
Even though I’m always right.
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Laundry Hag's New Year's Clean-Up (The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Note for the reader: The events of this novella take place several months after The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag: Bun in the Oven.
Chapter One
Five hours ‘til midnight
Maggie
“Do you think we have enough food?” Neil asked from his horizontal position on the couch.
I set down the bowl of pickles and studied the various dishes spread out on our coffee table with a critical eye. “Let’s see, chips, Million Dollar Dip, sesame crackers, baked brie with raspberry jam, those spinach artichoke thingies in the puff pastry, pepperoni roll, and mulled sparkling cider. Oh, shoot, I forgot the quadruple fudge brownies.” I made a break for the kitchen.
He sat up and snagged the back of my shirt in one fluid motion. “I was kidding, Uncle Scrooge. It’s just the two of us. This is plenty and then some. You said you weren’t going to go nuts.”
“Don’t blame me, blame Pinterest. There are sooo many stellar recipes on there. Since I didn’t do much for Christmas I thought I’d make up for lost time.”
What I’d done for the holidays was take care of our newborn fussbudget, Lily Phillips. Tonight was the first time in six months I’d been without her in my arms and they felt achingly empty.
“It’s not like the food will go to waste. We have two growing boys that will be back here raiding our fridge like marauding Vikings in less than a day.”
“Come here, you lunatic,” Neil pulled me onto his lap. “Sit, relax with your husband before the food orgy continues.”
I lean into his hold, my gaze flitting from our mini feast to the television where Rockin’ New Year’s Eve was in full swing. We planned to flit between that and a Castle Rock marathon on Hulu. Atlas, our Great Dane had rolled onto his back, all four humongous paws in the air, the picture of canine contentment. I could totally relate. “This was a great idea, letting the kids stay with your folks for the night. We needed the down time.”
Understatement of the year. A new baby had changed my already busy life into a whirlwind of juggling business, family and her constant needs.
His hand caressed my still soft belly. No postpartum abs of steel for the Laundry Hag. To be fair I’d been soft and squishy long before little miss Lily made her debut. Judging from Neil’s determined exploration, he didn’t mind a bit of extra cushion for the pushing.
“What will it take to convince you to scrap all of our chill plans and get naked with me to ring in the new year?”
My teeth sank into my lower lip. “After all this cooking? You’ll need to do that thing I like.”
“I’m up for the challenge.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I don’t know,” I tapped a finger against my chin. “You’re getting on in years. Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out, old man.”
“Old man, is it? I’ll show you what this old man can do, saucy wench.” Neil lunged off the couch. I squeaked as he hefted me up over his good shoulder but didn’t struggle. The flat of his palm landed on my backside. I let out another indignant yelp, content with the idea of being his saucy New Year’s wench when the doorbell rang. The sudden noise woke the sleeping dog who let out a thunderous woof and headed to the front door to investigate.
I groaned and buried my face in his shirt. “I really don’t want to get that.”
“We can and should ignore it.” But he lowered me to the ground.
“What if it’s important?” I ask.
Neil gave me a level look. “Maybe it’s Ed McMahan stopping by with our Publisher’s Clearing House check.”
“Sweetie, I’m pretty sure Ed McMahon is dead.”
Neil heaved a put-upon sigh. “I’m begging you not to get that door. No good comes from answering the door. In fact, let’s make that our resolution. To stop answering the door. Think how peaceful our lives would be.”
I countered with, “You’re being ridiculous. How would we sign for packages?”
“I haven’t signed for a package since we moved here.”
The doorbell rang again and was followed by an airy, “You hoo! I know you’re home. Quit feeling each other up and let me in before my protruding parts snap off in the cold.”
Our gazes met and at the same time we said, “Leo.”
Neil caved. “Oh, all right. But seriously, come midnight, I’m not going to answer the door for a whole year.”
“Until the next time you order a pizza.”
Neil grunted but went to let Leo in.
“Happy, happy New Year.” Leo called, removing his bright red scarf as he entered the room. His gaze roamed over me and then shifted to Neil. “You aren’t dressed.”
Huh? I glanced down at the stained t-shirt and sweats that were lightly dusted with flour. “Am too.”
One sardonic eyebrow lifted. “You’re wearing that shapeless sack to the Swenson’s New Year’s Eve party?”
“No, probably because I’m not going to the Swenson’s New Year’s Eve party. I wasn’t invited.”
Leo tugged his hands free of gloves and then sat on the arm of the couch.
“Of course you were, we both were. Don’t you remember when we cleaned out her pool house after her son hosted the bacchanal? She said we should see the New Year’s fiesta because it put the college party to shame.”
Though he was employed as a housekeeper for my in-laws, Leo had occasionally helped out with my on-again, off-again business as a house cleaner. A fact I made a mental note to remedy in the future.
“Um Leo, in what universe does that constitute an invitation?”
He waved me off as though I was quibbling semantics instead of pointing out a very valid truth. “So, we’re gate crashing, big deal. It’s the party of the year, I refuse to miss it. Or to let you miss it. We’ll have dish for the entire winter. Just think, divorces, affairs, and, face lifts gone hideously wrong? Hurry up and get changed, both of you.”
“Leo,” Neil took a step toward him. “We sort of had plans.”
My pal made a face. “Just the two of you, alone here watching TV on New Year’s Eve? Those aren’t plans. That’s what happens when you don’t have actual plans. It’s a fallback position. That newborn has sucked the will to party out of you. Live it up now or live with regrets.”
I was totally okay with the regrets. My feet hurt, I had twenty extra baby weight pounds still to shed and the idea of dressing up to crash the party of a former client held zero point zero appeal. The house was clean, quiet and even Atlas had settled back down. Hulu and Ryan Seacrest awaited, damn it.
“Why don’t you stay here with us?” I extended the invitation knowing my pal was lonely.
Leo scowled. Neil scowled. Even the dog seemed to scowl, or as close as his goofy canine face could come to the expression.
Leo opened his coat to reveal the tuxedo he wore underneath. “And waste all this hotness on the two of you and your dog? I am dressed to impress and I mean to be kissing someone at midnight, damn it.”
“We could share Neil,” I offered weakly.
My husband shot me a dirty look. He h
ated it when I faux pimped him out. His own fault for being so pretty.
Leo hadn’t even heard the offer. He was too busy ranting. “You bail on me at Christmas, you’re going away for Easter, and by Mother’s Day your spawn will be crawling about keeping you laser focused on her every move. Can’t you get it up for one last hoorah with your good pal Leo? I need my wingman tonight. Please, Goose.” He actually clasped his hands together and looked ready to fall to his knees and beg.
I rolled my eyes. “Spoiler alert, Goose dies and Maverick flies solo.”
“Actually, Iceman was the wingman.” Neil interjects. “Or technically Maverick was Ice’s wingman. The wingman is the pilot whose aircraft is positioned behind and outside the leading aircraft in a formation.” He angled his hands to demonstrate said formation.
“No one cares, sexy.” I patted his arm, then turned back to Leo. “And while I’m not trying to be difficult, I don’t have a single wardrobe item that fits that would be appropriate for a New Year’s Eve party.”
“What about that one you bought in Miami?” Leo asked.
“Leo, it’s a maternity dress.”
“Not to mention it’s five degrees out.” Neil folded his arms over his chest. “That dress is strapless.”
“Plenty of hot bodies in the crowd.” Sensing a weakness, Leo dove in for the kill. “I heard they arranged for a chocolate fountain.”
Neil swore, knowing his backup had just shifted to the dark side. How could I not when they had chocolate?
“Just ‘til midnight,” I promised him. “Mama needs chocolate.”
“Or until they realize we weren’t invited.” My husband stalked down the hall to get changed.
Leo clapped with glee. “Come on, I’ll do your hair. It’s finally grown out over that shorn patch from last year. I’m thinking a Greco roman goddess style updo. Between that and the mask, no one will recognize you.”
“Wait, did you say mask?” I turned to look at him but he was shoving me down the hall toward the bathroom.
Leo grinned. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s a masquerade.”
A HALF AN HOUR LATER, we were dressed, masked and loaded into a limo, because apparently Leo had lost his ever lovin’ mind.
“You know I could have been designated driver.” I’d been teetotalling since Lily showed up, too exhausted to even think about booze after I finally got her down for the night.
“I didn’t go to the prom,” Leo explained over a flute of champagne. “And at this point in my life, I doubt I’ll get married. So, if I want to rent a limo for New Year’s Eve, I will go right ahead and rent a damn limo.”
“I’ve never been in a limo either. Figured the closest I’d come was maybe an Uber driver.”
Neil remained quiet, so I asked, “How about you?”
“Yeah,” his gaze remained trained out the window. “Once or twice.”
“It was at his first wedding.” Leo put in. His glass was empty again. Truth be told, I was starting to worry about Leo’s drinking. He seemed inebriated more than sober in any social situation. Another good reason to go with him tonight. We could keep him out of trouble.
Then his words sank in. “First wedding?” To Amber, the manipulative money-grubbing slag.
“Limo pulled up right in front of the house. He carried her over the threshold and everything. I was watching from an upstairs window. It was so romantic.” Leo had lived across the street from Neil and Amber and later Neil and I back in Virginia Beach.
My molars ground together but Neil reached forward and snagged the champagne bottle before Leo could refill his glass. “Better pace yourself, pal.”
“Good call.” I hissed to him.
Unfortunately, without the distraction of a drink, Leo had nothing to distract his mouth. “And from the state of their clothes, I’d wager they’d been getting busy in that limo, too.”
“Freaking hell, Leo,” I snapped. My friend was usually blunt but he’d never been so tactless. “Do you really think this is appropriate?”
He waved it away. “It’s not like you didn’t know. After all he was married when you met.”
“I was separated.” Neil barked. “And yes, Maggie knows. We all know how well that ended, so could we please talk about something else?”
“Fine,” Leo looked insulted, or as insulted as he could behind a mask.
I pasted on a smile, my snowy owl mask hiding all but my eyes and mouth, trying to shove the mental picture of Neil and his pretty new wife all disheveled from limo shenanigans off to start their new lives. Ancient history, I told myself. Past is in the past. Didn’t matter that wife number one had no trouble shedding the weight from not one but two pregnancies.
Neil was right, time to change the subject. “So, how was Christmas with Laura and Ralph?”
Leo’s gaze had shifted to the window. “Boring, quiet and strained as usual. Oh good, we’re almost there.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” Neil murmured and took my hand. “This night can’t end soon enough.”
He tried to lace our fingers together but I pulled mine free, fiddled with my purse. I could feel his gaze on me, assessing and categorizing, but I didn’t want to meet them at the moment. We passed the dormant expanse of the golf course, the Swenson’s nearest neighbors, still a few miles distant.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” I fibbed. I would be, eventually. Between postpartum hormones, my worry for Leo, and a sharp flare of jealousy, I needed a minute to pull myself together.
“I see you, Maggie.” Neil spoke the words softly, so only I would hear. The phrase he used to convey that he didn’t just love me, but that he understood and accepted me, neuroses and all. He wasn’t the same young man who had married a beautiful, malicious woman because she ensnared him with feminine wiles. He’d married me, wanted me because I was his world. And he was mine. Hearing those words was a balm to my bruised pride, calmed the roiling in my guts that the green-eyed monster had churned up.
He told me once he hadn’t known love until Josh was born and he hadn’t believed in romantic love until he’d met me. Time to stuff the insecurities back into the abyss. I rested my head on his shoulder and gazed out the window as the Swenson’s humble abode slowly came into view.
The place cast a glow over the snow-covered ground, the exterior buildings on a hill behind the main house, a meager 26 thousand square feet of sprawling hand drawn Indiana limestone. The Swensons owned a series of ski lodges across the globe and after their infamous party, would most likely be off to Alaska or Switzerland for the prime skiing season.
My husband’s family was fortunate, both his parents had spent years as corporate attorneys and had several investment properties as well as a fat bank account, but this was another level of wealth altogether.
“Can you imagine having a place like this and not living in it full time?” Leo breathed as our limo got in line behind several others which deposited masked and bundled guests before the massive double doors.
“Can you imagine cleaning a place like this full time?” I countered. “You’d finish and it’d be time to start all over again.”
Leo waved me off. “People who can afford places like this have armies of servants to tend to their vast estates.”
“Plebs like us, you mean?” Between the two of us, Leo and I rocked the domestic mad skills, a fact I was proud of most of the time, but there was no denying that we were heartier stock.
At least Neil looked like he fit in. His black suit matched the black domino covering the upper part of his face, casting his eyes in shadow and lending him a sexy, roguish air. Leo had been right to pick something simple and classic for him. No sense hiding the perfection of Neil’s face.
I removed my own mask and held it up to the window to examine the detail. It was far more elaborate than Neil’s, and covering my face from eyebrow to the bow of my lips. Running a finger over the soft feathers, I marveled at the details, the way gray blended with white, creating an intric
ate pattern that was both natural and elegant. “Where did you find these, Leo? They’re amazing.”
My pal shrugged. “I made them.”
“Really?” I knew Leo could sew, but the exquisite detail in these masks was flawless.
Leo adjusted his own mask, a black and gold Harlequin style that matched his tie. “Yes, now put it back on before someone recognizes you.”
The limo glided up to the curb and Neil climbed out first followed by Leo. My husband reached a hand back in and I took it, stepping out into the frigid night. In spite of the cold, the front doors had been thrown open. Some people had stopped to chat at the steps and a few glanced over at us. I’d never crashed a party before. I felt huge in my maternity dress, the only fancy dress I owned that still fit. And by fit, I meant it skimmed down in a straight fall, over the lumps and bumps of my body. I wore no fur or jewels other than my engagement ring and wedding band. No doubt about it, I stuck out like a sore thumb. At least the mask gave me anonymity. My husband shifted his grasp so that he led me by the arm in classic escort fashion. Neil was a better accessory than any mask. Lifting my chin, I headed up the steps, offering a polite smile to the gawkers.
“That was fabulous.” Leo leaned in to whisper. “You sailed in here like you owned the place.”
I tossed him a wink. “Just asked myself, how would Laura make an entrance?”
“She probably wouldn’t have been gate crashing,” her son pointed out.
“Desperate times,” Leo offered as the crowd in front of us advanced.
Leo had been right, I realized. Judging from the sheer number of people clogging the walkways of the house, we would have no trouble blending in. It may have been a dead giveaway that I wasn’t a jaded jet setter, but I had to crane my neck and gawk at the huge chandelier overhead.
“Is that what I think it is?” Neil tilted his head from one side to the other.
“Yup, it is in fact, a giant lighted penis,” Leo sing-songed. “Is this not the best place ever?”
“And here I thought it was just me.” Neil tilted his head again.
The Laundry Hag's New Year's Clean-Up Page 1
