At first Charlotte had figured that Madeline was still pouting about Daniel’s marriage announcement and simply didn’t want to talk about it. But it had been over three days now without a word from her, and Charlotte was beginning to really get aggravated... and angry.
Knowing her sister as she did, Charlotte figured that Madeline had somehow gotten it into her head that Charlotte was at fault for Daniel’s relationship with Nadia. And maybe, in a teeny-tiny way, she was.
It had been almost a year since Nadia had come to her in tears because Ricco, her live-in boyfriend and the father of her son, had been arrested as part of the gang that had been stealing cemetery artifacts. Nadia had needed legal expertise that she could ill afford, and Ricco’s court-appointed attorney had been next to useless. Charlotte had solicited Daniel’s help on Nadia’s behalf, so, in essence, she
had
brought the two of them together.
But that was all she had done. Once Daniel had secured Ricco’s release from jail, without a word to anyone, Ricco had abruptly disappeared. What had developed between Nadia and Daniel afterward had been totally their own doing.
In the laundry room, once Charlotte had measured out the laundry detergent, she dumped it into the washing machine, then turned the machine on. Most of the time she waited until the machine completely filled with water, and she let it agitate a minute or so before adding the clothes. But today she had no patience for waiting on anything. As soon as she had separated the dirty clothes into whites and colors, she stuffed in the first load.
Charlotte figured that just because she’d brought Daniel and Nadia together initially didn’t mean that their marriage was her fault. After all, they were two grown people perfectly capable of making their own choices in life. Madeline was just being ridiculous about the whole thing, and, in Charlotte’s opinion, her sister would live to regret her attitude.
Charlotte figured that the best thing she could do about the situation with her sister was to ignore it and get her mind on other things. The good Lord only knew that she had enough “other things” to think about. But knowing the best thing to do in a situation and actually doing it was easier said than done.
Maybe a nice brisk walk right after breakfast would help, she decided. It had been days since she’d been able to take her afternoon walks, and, according to all the brochures she’d read, regular exercise was really important for people who had diabetes.
Charlotte yawned as she closed the lid of the washing machine. What she’d really like to do was crawl back into bed and sleep another couple of hours. Even just thinking about a walk made her tired.
As she emerged from the laundry room, the phone rang, giving her a start. When she glanced at her wristwatch, she grimaced. Charlotte’s maid service consisted of three full-time employees and one part-time employee. When the phone rang between seven and eight in the morning, it usually meant problems with one of them.
With dread weighing down each footstep, she trudged into the living room to answer the call. The last thing she needed or wanted was to have to deal with business problems today.
She picked up the receiver. “Good morning, Maid-for-a-Day. Charlotte speaking”
“Charlotte, this is Nadia.”
Charlotte frowned with worry, her own problems suddenly forgotten. “What’s wrong, hon? You don’t sound so good”
“I don’t feel so good, either. I’m afraid I have that nasty stomach virus that’s been going around. I’ve been throwing up since early this morning.”
“Oh, you poor thing. How can I help?”
“I hate doing this to you—I really do—but today is my day to work for Patsy Dufour. There’s just no way I—”
“Don’t even think about it, hon. I’ll get someone else to—”
Nadia interrupted with a groan. “Uh oh, I think I’m gonna be sick again. Sorry. Gotta go.”
Charlotte depressed the switch hook, and after a moment she released it and tapped out the number for Janet Davis, her part-time employee.
Please be able to work today... please.
But all she got was Janet’s answering machine. With a sigh of disappointment, she hung up the phone without leaving a message.
Janet was the only backup help she had on Thursdays. Her other two full-time employees had regular clients of their own scheduled for that day. If Janet wasn’t available, Charlotte either had to work the job herself or cancel it.
Lost in thought, for several moments Charlotte stared at Sweety Boy, who cocked his head and stared right back at her.
For one of the few times since she’d formed her own maid service, Charlotte seriously considered canceling the job. Maybe Hank was right, after all. For over a year her son had been trying to persuade her to retire and let him take care of her for a change, and since her sixtieth birthday, he’d become more insistent
As a renowned surgeon who was much in demand, her son could certainly afford to take care of her. But while the possibility of retiring was nice to think about, she had never truly considered doing such a thing. For one thing, she’d always taken care of herself without anyone’s help, thank you very much. But maybe it was time to give his offer some serious consideration. Maybe she
should
think about retiring.
“No!” she whispered and firmly shook her head.
You’re just tired and you don’t feel good. Besides, you’d go stark raving mad without anything to do.
“Just do it,” she grumbled. “So much for a day off, huh, Boy?” she told the little parakeet as she grabbed her Rolodex and thumbed through it until she found Patsy Dufour’s phone number.
Four rings later, Charlotte felt like screaming with frustration when Patsy’s answering machine kicked in. “Just great!” she muttered. Didn’t anyone ever answer their phones any more? “She’s probably either in the shower or outside in the garden,” she told herself, waiting for the beep to sound so she could leave a message.
After the beep, she said, “Patsy, this is Charlotte LaRue with Maid-for-a-Day. Your regular maid, Nadia, is sick, so I’ll be taking her place. I’m afraid I’m running a bit late, though, and I wanted to let you know that I will be there as soon as possible”
Charlotte hated being late almost as much as she detested gossip, but she especially hated being late for work. Besides a sloppy cleaning job, the other thing that clients frowned on the most was the maid not showing up at the appointed time.
Within thirty minutes of her call to Patsy, Charlotte had eaten a bowl of cereal and quickly dressed. The last thing she did before leaving was check Sweety Boy’s food and water supply.
“See you later, Boy,” she told the little bird, once she’d determined that he had enough to last until she returned. “Be good, now.” Locking the door behind her, she headed for the van.
After a quick inventory of the supplies that she kept in the van, she found that she needed to replenish several of the cleaners she normally used from the stock she kept in the storeroom.
When Charlotte had first began cleaning homes as a profession, Hank had been a toddler. As a single mother, she’d been on a shoestring budget. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that buying cleaning products in bulk from a supply house was a lot less expensive than buying stuff off the grocery-store shelves.
The only problem with buying in bulk, though, was storage. And since some of the supplies were hazardous, she’d been uncomfortable about the idea of keeping them inside the house, especially with a small child around who seemed to get into anything and everything in spite of all the precautions she’d taken.
The solution had been to build a storeroom on to the back of the carport that was attached to her half of the Victorian double she owned.
As Charlotte refilled containers, she tried to recall if there was anything else she needed. Early on, she’d learned that each of her clients had her own idiosyncrasies about what she wanted done and how she wanted it done. It had been a couple of years since she had personally worked for Patsy, but if she remembered right, Patsy was one of the most particular clients that she’d had to deal with. And just one of Patsy’s peculiarities was that she insisted on each of the ten ceiling fans she had in her home being dusted every week.
Charlotte eyed a brush hanging on a peg. The odd U-shaped brush stuck out at a ninety-degree angle to the handle, and the yard-long handle was telescopic and could be extended to almost twice its length. It had been designed to dust ceiling-fan blades. But even with the handle fully extended, she would still need a ladder to do a thorough job.
Charlotte shivered at the thought of climbing to the top of the ladder. Some of the ceilings in Patsy’s century-old home were as high as twelve feet, and Charlotte never had liked heights. Like it or not, though, to Charlotte, a thorough job included not only dusting the fan blades, but wiping them down with a scented cleaner as well. That way, when the fans were turned back on, the motion of the blades would spread the scent and leave the room smelling fresh and clean.
Propped against the wall near the brush was an aluminum ladder. Charlotte was pretty sure that Patsy kept a small stepladder in one of the ground-floor closets in her house, but if she remembered right, Patsy’s ladder wasn’t very tall. Maybe she should bring her own ladder as well as the brush, just in case.
But would her ladder be tall enough? She estimated that the ladder was six-feet high, then she added her own height of five-feet-three plus another two feet for an upstretched arm. Shrugging, Charlotte picked up the bottles she’d refilled. Patsy’s fans, she recalled, hung from extensions that varied in length from six inches to a couple of feet from the ceiling. If she really stretched, she might be able to reach them without having to climb to the very top of the ladder... if she really stretched.
After she’d loaded the brush and the refilled bottles of cleaner into the van, she went back for the ladder. Though it was made of aluminum and wasn’t that heavy, it was cumbersome, especially in the small, crowded confines of the storage room. With a firm grip on it and being careful not to knock anything over or off the shelves, she slowly backed out the door. She’d just cleared the storeroom door with the ladder when—
“Hey, let me help you with that.”
At the unexpected sound of the deep male voice, Charlotte let out a startled squeal, then whirled around. The end of the ladder just missed Louis Thibodeaux’s head by inches.
Jerking his head back in the nick of time, he yelled, “Hey, watch it!”
“Well!” she snapped back at him. “What do you expect? You scared the living daylights out of me.”
Charlotte could still feel her heart pumping overtime from fright. Lately the newspaper had been full of stories about people living in Uptown and the Garden District being accosted and robbed right in their own driveways or garages.
“I swear, Louis, the least you could do is let a body know when you’re around.”
Louis threw up his hands in defense. “I thought for sure you knew I was standing here”
“Well, I didn’t!” she argued.
Louis Thibodeaux was Judith’s ex-partner. He had officially retired from the New Orleans Police Department back in December and had needed a temporary place to stay until the work at his camp on Lake Maurepas was completed, so Charlotte had rented out the other half of her double to him.
“Here,” he said, grabbing hold of the ladder. “I’ll load that for you”
Along with Louis’s other irritating faults, Charlotte had learned that he could also be a bit overbearing at times. Unsure whether it was the tone he’d used or whether it was just her own perverse mood, it suddenly became terribly important that she prove to him that she could load the ladder without any help. Especially without his help.
Charlotte tightened her grip on the ladder. “I can do it myself. I always have,” she grumbled as she pulled on it. “Besides which, once I get to where I’m going, I’ll have to unload it by myself, so what’s the difference?”
Louis pulled right back. “Don’t be so stubborn, Charlotte. I know you’re perfectly capable of doing anything you want to do.
By yourself,”
he added with mocking emphasis. “That’s not the point.”
For long seconds they stood, almost toe to toe with the ladder between them, both unwilling to relinquish their hold on it to the other.
Finally Charlotte had had enough. “Oh, all right!” she snapped, shoving the ladder at him at exactly the same moment that he’d decided to release his hold on it. The ladder fell, and as it clattered and bounced against the concrete floor, both jumped backward to avoid getting their feet smashed.
All Charlotte could do was stand there red-faced with frustration and embarrassment as she stared down at the dumb ladder. Then, she heard it—that irritating sound that meant that Louis was trying his best to keep from laughing out loud. And, as aggravated as she was, she couldn’t hold back the smile that trembled at the comers of her own lips.
Louis cleared his throat. “Now can I load it for you?” Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the ladder. “I swear, you’re too stubborn for your own good,” he muttered as he stalked off to the back of the van. A minute or so later, he called out, “By the way, the reason I was looking for you in the first place was because I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”