Hung Out to Dry: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #4 Page 3

  “Marty?” I asked, sure I was seeing things.

  “Pretty sharp, right?” Marty pulled down the jacket to the dark livery he wore and straightened the hat that sat crooked on his shaggy dark hair. “Hey, sis, you look less retched than usual.”

  I grinned at him. “You’re my driver?”

  “Bought and paid for.” Marty scuttled around the ass end of the mammoth vehicle and opened the door for me for the first time in his life. “Your chariot awaits. So getcha ass in gear already.”

  Chapter Three

  It became clear we were driving into Boston when the first of the skyscrapers appeared ahead. Marty had turned on the radio to a classic rock station and wouldn’t give me any information about our final destination.

  “I met a psychic today,” I told him as he took a right.

  “Yeah? Did she give you winning lotto numbers?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, smartass.”

  Marty glanced back at me through the rearview mirror. “Then how do you know she was really a psychic? Does she have a 900 number?”

  “Not the kind you’d be interested in, Sprout,” I said dryly, tired of correcting him. “Where are we going?”

  “Boston.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Could you be a little vaguer?”

  “New England,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “The eastern seaboard, the United States, North America, planet Earth.”

  I blew out a breath. “Guess so.”

  Eventually, he pulled up to a park. I frowned, glancing down at my heels, which would stab into the soft ground like wooden stakes into a vampire’s heart. Inappropriate footwear for every occasion—it was my curse.

  Well, one of them anyway.

  The door opened and I jumped, ready to aim my pepper spray until I saw Neil. “Wow,” I said, feeling like an idiot as I stared at the man I’d been married to for almost a decade. I couldn’t help it though, because he looked especially scrumptious in a black suit that I didn’t recognize and knew immediately he’d bought just for the occasion.

  Superbly handsome even on his worse day, but when he went the extra mile, watch out.

  He held out a hand and I took it, loving the feel of his work-roughened palm, the sparkle of male interest in his eyes.

  “My lady,” he said, his voice deep and rich and as potent as a caress. He brought my knuckles up to his lips and placed a soft kiss against the undamaged skin there. “You look lovely tonight.”

  “Thanks,” I breathed. I didn’t stand a chance when he turned on the charm.

  “We all good here?” Marty said, drumming his hands on top of the car. “I’ve got places to be, people to see.”

  Neil looked to me for confirmation and when I nodded, he reached into his pocket and offered a few bills to my impatient brother.

  At least Marty didn’t count the money, just slipped it into his pocket, climbed back behind the wheel and roared off.

  I shook my head and then turned to my husband. “Well, here we are. Though I’m not really sure where here is or why there’s so much mystery to a date in the park.”

  Neil wore a boyish grin, so similar to Josh and Kenny when they schemed. “You’ll see.”

  Noting my shoe difficulty, he led me over to a paved path for easier walking. The park was lovely and the temperature was perfect for July. All around us flowers bloomed, vivid reminders that while it seemed to take forever for the northeast to warm-up compared to my native Virginia when it did it did so with style.

  The flowers turned to shrubs which turned to trees and in spite of the heels I could have walked with him forever like that, sharing a companionable silence. Normally, we spent so much time discussing the kids, the house and other minutiae of married life that it was easy to forget how wonderful it felt to just share space with him.

  Suddenly, the path through the woods opened to reveal a giant band shell over the next rise. As we drew closer I saw throngs of people with blankets and lawn chairs settled on the rise of the hill going up to the bandstand. There must be a concert in the park tonight.

  Though I half expected Neil to guide me toward them, he veered off along the top of the hill toward a small copse of maples, carefully pointing to where I should step for the surest footing. A checkered blanket was spread out beneath the leafy canopy and a large wicker picnic basket held a corked bottle of Rosa Regale, champagne grapes, and a bevy of other delicacies.

  “Wow,” I said again as I stared down at the spread then up to his handsome face. “You sure went to a heap of trouble, didn’t you?”

  He cupped my cheek with one hand, his expression tender as his touch. “This isn’t just because it’s our one year anniversary in the house, though that’s as good an excuse as any. After everything, we’ve been through in the past year, hell the past ten years. Well, I didn’t want you to think I was taking it all for granted. I just want to celebrate you tonight.”

  I stared at him, touched and a little shocked. Not because my husband could still be romantic. That much I knew. But because I heard the note in his voice, the need he had to do for me, to keep me safe and do everything he could to make me happy.

  There was no way I wasn’t going to kiss him after that speech and from the grin on his face, he knew it, too. I needed to lose myself in him, if only for a moment because we were in pseudo-public. His lips were warm and firm, and gone all too soon. There was heat in his gaze as he pulled back, along with a promise of more to come.

  Down to the right, speakers crackled, our cue to settle in before the music started.

  I lowered myself down onto the blanket, taking a moment to adjust my skirt so I didn’t flash the crowd below.

  “Are you going to feed me grapes?” I teased.

  “Lady’s choice,” he said with a shrug and opened the sparkling red wine. “I’ll feed you anything you want.”

  “Promises, promises,” I said and we clinked glasses.

  We made it through one and a half sets before we felt the first drop.

  I was already on my second glass of wine and downed it in fear of dilution. The stuff was too good to waste. “You think it’ll stop?”

  As if in answer, thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Neil made a face. “The best-laid plans of mice and men. We’d better pack up.”

  We stuffed everything back in the basket willy-nilly but weren’t fast enough. The skies darkened ominously, blocking out the setting sun. The wind picked up and then the rain pounded down like a punishment from on high. I kicked off my heels and scooped them up so I wouldn’t break my neck. Neil eyed the blanket a moment and then must have decided we would be drenched regardless because he stuffed it over the basket, gripped my hand and ran for cover.

  Even pushing forty my husband could run insanely fast, but he kept pace with my shorter stride. He didn’t lead us back the way we’d come through the trees. Instead, he took a sharp left and dashed past other fleeing patrons.

  I was breathless by the time we hit the edge of the park and glad when he pulled me into a gazebo.

  Breathless and laughing, I collapsed against him feeling freer than I had in a long time. Maybe ever.

  “Sorry,” Neil was barely winded. As it continued to pour down around us, I glanced up at him. His hair was slicked back, his dark lashes wet, his expression rueful.

  Adopting my sternest voice I said, “Well you should be, slacking off on your job of controlling the weather and all.”

  He laughed and then didn’t help my breathless state one bit by kissing the stuffing out of me. Reflexively my arms went around his neck and I pulled him closer. He smelled delectable, all strong male spice and tasted even better. Breathing was overrated anyway.

  “Get a room!” Someone passing by yelled.

  Neil pulled back first and I started when I realized his hand had been flirting with the edge of my soggy skirt. This time, he did struggle for breath, a fact that pleased me no end.

  “That,” he breathed, “Is the best idea I’ve hear
d all night.”

  I tilted my head, my eyebrows drawing down as he reached into his back pocket and extracted a hotel key card.

  “Always prepared,” I shook my head but smiled. “You are such a boy scout.”

  He grinned down at me. “I can’t wait to prove how wrong you are about that.”

  The hotel the key card belonged to stood a block down and we darted between awnings, laughing and holding hands like a couple of teenagers. The chill of the powerfully air-conditioned lobby hit me as we entered from the street. Or maybe it was the scary looking guy watching me from one of the seats in the bar. He glowered and I shivered in my damp dress, which didn’t look nearly as enticing dripping on the floor. It was a relief when we made for a private room down the hall. Since Neil had had the foresight to register ahead of time, we bypassed the check-in desk and headed straight to a bank of elevators in back.

  These had to be the slowest elevators on the face of the planet. Other hotel patrons congregated, all eyes studiously fixed on the lighted arrow indicating that we wanted to go up. Neil squeezed my hand and I squeezed back, eager to be alone with him. Just a few more minutes….

  Finally, the doors to the nearest elevator glided open and patrons spilled out. We were the first in but didn’t have the luxury of having the car to ourselves. An older man in a wheelchair and a much younger looking woman pushed him inside, followed by a harried-looking woman and her two toddlers who had also been caught by the sudden storm.

  I smiled at them, though I had had more than enough of other people. Neil pressed the button for the eighteenth floor, two from the top.

  “I still can’t believe you did this,” I whispered to him. “The expense alone—”

  He turned, rubbing his smooth cheek against mine so he could whisper in my ear. “A bottle of wine and a babysitter isn’t a big expense. And Marty works cheap.”

  “I meant the hotel,” I breathed.

  Neil pulled back, obviously uncomfortable. “Well, that’s actually a gift from my parents. They keep a room reserved here for out of town clients and I asked to borrow it for the night. Is that okay?”

  Okay? This was a four-star hotel and we were getting it gratis. “I think my thrifty ways are rubbing off on you, Mr. Phillips.”

  By the look in his eye I could tell Neil wanted to say something lewd, but his face turned to the chubby-cheeked toddler with a smear of ketchup on her chin, and he cleared his throat instead.

  My cell phone rang and I automatically reached for it. It was an unfamiliar number but it could be Mac’s cell phone.

  “Don’t,” Neil said.

  “It might be the kids. I’ll be done by the time we get to where we’re going, promise.”

  The world’s slowest elevator chugged along like the little lift that couldn’t. We’d only gone up three floors since the doors closed. If it hadn’t been twenty stories, I would have taken the stairs.

  “Hello?” I said, surprised I had a signal.

  “Maggie?” An unfamiliar female voice asked.

  “Speaking, who is this?”

  “It’s Sarah Dale. I just had a vision about you and I thought I should call.”

  “This really isn’t a good time, Sarah,” I said.

  “I’ll be quick, promise. I just had to tell you don’t get in the box.”

  “The box?” I repeated, confused. “Is that like a metaphor or…?”

  Neil made a choked sound and I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “I don’t know. I just saw you having a really bad night if you got in the box.”

  That sounded vague as hell. I’d been trying to have an open mind about her abilities. She was an odd duck for sure, but it was one thing to placate her while I was on the job, another thing entirely for her to call me during my personal time and freak me out.

  “Sarah,” I began and that was when the power went out.

  In a modern hotel with glass elevators that ran smoothly, there would have been a generator to prevent things like guests being stranded in the elevators. But the Boston Grand Dame was part of the historic district and modernization were big no-nos.

  I sat on the floor, leaning against Neil. The children sobbed in fits and starts, their mother a visible ball of anxiety. The old man in the wheelchair kvetched about the hotel, the elevator and anything else that had ticked him off like he was being paid for it.

  “I guess an elevator could be called a box.” I’d said to Neil after relaying Sarah’s message.

  “Did the spirits tell her that we were doomed to spend the night in an elevator?” Neil asked.

  The other passengers were shooting us odd looks. “Ix-nay on the pirits-say,” I muttered. “And she’s a psychic, not a medium. She doesn’t talk to spirits.” As far as I knew, anyway.

  “Are we stuck between floors?” The woman with the grumpy older man asked.

  Neil studied the door and then looked up to the access hatch. “I could check.”

  I’d watched Speed way too many times to be comfortable with his idea. “Are you sure it’s a good plan? Maybe we should just wait until they get the power back on.”

  But Neil being Neil he was already unbuttoning his damp suit jacket. “It’s better than sitting around with our thumbs up our a—” With a sidelong glance at the urchins, he clamped his lips over the last word.

  “Hold this,” Neil handed me the wet heap of his coat and tie so he could roll up his sleeves. Both the nursemaid and the young mom eyed him in appreciation.

  I took the mess from him, irritated. “You’re high maintenance, you know that?” I shrugged the fabric over my goosebump-covered shoulders. At least it was warmer than the skimpy wet dress.

  He flashed me a grin. “Like a finely tuned machine.”

  “Unlike this damn elevator.” The mother shot me a poisonous glare but unlike Neil, I didn’t have a problem expressing myself in front of children. I bet they heard saltier language from Spongebob. Compared to smoking, drinking, having underage sex or all sorts of other options, cussing was a mild vice and everyone needed at least one.

  Neil ignored their brazen interest. Mapping out his plan of action instead. He waved everyone to the far corner and then put a foot on the handrail. With a deft maneuver, he hoisted himself upwards, then reached for the underside of the access panel.

  “Your shoulder,” I fretted like a ninny because I was powerless to do anything else.

  “It’s fine,” he grunted.

  There was a grating sound as he slid the panel aside, revealing the dark interior of the elevator shaft.

  Neil tried to reach for the edge of the opening, but couldn’t get a solid grip. He scrambled down and then looked around. “I need a boost to see up there.”

  If he thought he was standing on my shoulders like a damn circus act, he’d best think again. I could see him considering the options in the elevator car and his eyes lighted on the handles of the wheelchair.

  “Neil,” I began, but he ignored me, instead moving over to crouch beside his target’s inhabitant.

  “Sir, can you stand at all?”

  The man who had spidery eyebrows scowled up at him. “Of course I can stand. What do you think I am, some sort of cripple?” His voice was rough and thick, tinged with a Boston accent.

  “Of course not. Any way I could borrow it for a minute?”

  The man grunted and his aide helped him to stand on shaky legs. Neil wheeled the chair directly under the open panel in the roof and then looked to me.

  “Park it here, Uncle Scrooge.”

  I blinked. “You want me to sit in the wheelchair?”

  Neil, looking a tad impatient, nodded. “I need you to counterweigh it so it doesn’t tip over.”

  Me, not the skinny old guy who’d been sitting there because I weighed more than anyone else in the elevator, with the possible exception of Neil himself. For his part, my husband didn’t look the least bit contrite over asking me to use my considerable weight for the sake of his mission. Neil saw a goal and doom to a
nyone who got in his way.

  “Fine,” I gritted my teeth together, abandoned my last shred of pride and plunked down in the wheelchair. Neil locked the wheels so the thing wouldn’t roll and then tested it by pushing down on the handles. “Need a little more.”

  I muttered. “This bites.”

  “What was that?” Neil was busy looking around for a way to bulk me up even more.

  “Never mind.” My joy from the picnic in the park was thoroughly extinct.

  Neil knelt down in front of the two kids and said something to them in low, reassuring tones. He looked up at their mother who was obviously impressed by his manly display of testosterone and would have signed her offspring over to be eaten by a witch if he’d asked.

  Five minutes later, I had two squirming children on my lap. The boy sniffled slightly. I hoped he didn’t have a cold. The last thing this experience needed was a souvenir.

  “I gots to go pee,” the ketchup smeared girl said.

  I shot Neil a murderous glance, which he didn’t see because he was up on the railing of the elevator again.

  He reached for the wheelchair handle with one foot and I had a sudden vision of us all flying backward out of the chair and landing in a heap. His estimate was spot on though because though I felt his weight on the back of the chair, we didn’t tip.

  “Looks like we’re between floors. I’m going up to the next one to see if I can get it open.”

  “What?” My shrill tone made the snuffling little boy burst into tears.

  But Neil was gone, having pulled himself up through the access panel. I was simultaneously terrified and furious with him. Did he always have to be the damn hero?

  “Mommy,” the little girl said urgently.

  My wet dress got even wetter as she released her bladder all over me.

  I looked up to the darkened elevator shaft where my husband had abandoned me. “You better hope you fall, because if you don’t, I’m going to kill you.”

  Chapter Four