Wiped Out (4 page)

“Charlotte, I'm going upstairs for a few minutes,” Mimi said, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Would you please make sure that everyone has what they need?” Without waiting for Charlotte's answer, she turned and fled the room.

Charlotte wanted to feel sorry for Mimi, and she did, but only up to a point. In Charlotte's opinion, Mimi had no one but herself to blame for the fiasco with Rita. She could have let the group vote again, as Rita had requested. That would have been the gracious thing to do, the fair thing. But she hadn't, and because she hadn't, and because of what June had done, Charlotte just couldn't sympathize as much as she would have under other circumstances.

With a sigh, Charlotte wandered into the dining room to check on things. Whether she agreed or disagreed with what Mimi and June had done didn't matter in the long run. What mattered right now was that Mimi was her employer, and she still had a job to finish.

Even with a dozen women milling around, the dining room was large enough that it wasn't overly crowded. Charlotte paused just inside the doorway and glanced around. She spotted June almost immediately standing near the buffet with a glass of wine in her hand. Looking as innocent as a newborn lamb, she was laughing and talking to a small group of women. Almost as soon as Charlotte saw June, June glanced up and saw Charlotte. June abruptly excused herself from the group and made a beeline for Charlotte.

When she reached Charlotte, she took her by the arm and pulled her just inside the kitchen. “Do you know where Mimi got off to?”

Charlotte didn't appreciate the accusatory tone in June's voice at all—a tone that insinuated that Mimi's disappearance was Charlotte's fault. She firmly pulled her arm from June's grasp and fought the urge to rub it, not from pain, but simply because she also didn't appreciate being manhandled by anyone, least of all someone who was almost a complete stranger. Using all the self-control she could muster, she said, “Mimi went upstairs for a few moments.”

June's face wrinkled with concern. “Did she say why?”

“No, she didn't.”

“Hmm, maybe I'd better go check on her, just to make sure she's okay.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don't know how much of what went on in there you heard”—she waved toward the parlor—“but we had a little altercation with one of the members—a slight misunderstanding—and, well, the member got upset, and Mimi—poor thing—takes everything to heart.”

A slight misunderstanding?
First the woman manhandles her, and now she was insulting her intelligence. Charlotte felt her temper rise.

“Anyway,” June continued, “I won't be gone but a moment, so just make sure everyone has what they need until I get back.”

Yes, ma'am; no, ma'am; right away, ma'am.
Or maybe she should just stand at attention and salute. Charlotte swallowed hard. June's intimidation tactics might work on some people, but she had another thing coming if she thought Charlotte was going to put up with it. Charlotte forced a tight little smile.
“Ms.
Bryant,” she said, “I've already assured
Mimi
that I would take care of things. And I will,” she added pointedly.

June gave her an odd look but nodded once. “Of course,” she said, her tone chilly. Then, with a slight lift of her chin, she stuck her patrician nose in the air, turned, and hurried toward the doorway leading to the central hall.

As Charlotte watched June weave her way through the other women, she took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing pulse. Good thing she didn't have trouble with high blood pressure.

After a moment, she felt a bit calmer. She returned to the dining room and busied herself with picking up the dirty dishes and tidying the table. All around her, conversations centered on Rita and continued as if Charlotte weren't even there. But, then, no one ever paid attention to the hired help. It was a fact that Charlotte had learned early on when she'd first started up Maid-for-a-Day, and it was the very reason she insisted that the women who worked for her adhered to her client confidentiality policy.

Once Charlotte had cleaned up as much as she could for the time being, she slipped into the kitchen. As she stood at the sink hand washing one of the crystal dessert plates, she tried to concentrate on what she was doing instead of the conversation between the two women standing just inside the dining room doorway. But ignoring what they were saying proved to be impossible, and she got an earful.

B
oth of the women looked to be in their early forties, and each had a glass of wine. The taller of the two had a whiny, nasally voice and was the one who did most of the talking.

“It's a shame that there's such bad blood between Mimi and Rita,” she said.

“Bad blood?”

“Has been for a while now.”

Charlotte glanced over at the two in time to see the shorter woman wrinkle her brow. “How come? I thought Mimi and Gordon were really good friends with Rita and Don.”

“They were, once upon a time, but not any more. I can't believe you haven't heard about it. Why, that was just an awful scandal.”

“Scandal? What scandal?”

“Well, I'm not exactly sure, but I heard that Rita accused Mimi of having an affair with Don.”

The shorter woman gasped, and Charlotte almost dropped the plate she was rinsing. She cleared her throat loudly, hoping that when the women realized she could hear everything they said, they would stop their gossiping.

“Why, that's just plain ridiculous,” the shorter woman said.

So much for trying to be discreet, Charlotte thought.

“Mimi would never cheat on Gordon,” the shorter woman continued. “And she certainly wouldn't cheat on him with the likes of that awful Don Landers.”

“Well, you and I know that,” the taller woman whined, “but, evidently, Rita thought differently.”

Shades of Bitsy Duhe, Charlotte thought, as she tried again to tune out the women's malicious gossip session, but again it was no use. Whether she liked it or not, she was a captive audience.

“Anyway,” the taller woman continued, “no matter how many times Mimi denied it, Rita just couldn't get past it. And we both know that Rita is not exactly the soul of discretion. She claimed that she'd caught 'em in the act.”

“Nooo,” the shorter woman drawled in a tone of utter disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” the other woman replied.

“But if she caught them doing it, then it must be true.”

The taller woman shook her head. “Not hardly. Rita has been known to lie. Regardless, Rita, like a ninny, went and blabbed it to anyone and everyone who would listen.”

“Aw, come on now. Why on earth would she do that? You'd think she'd be too humiliated to want anyone to know.”

“I kid you not. That's exactly what she did, mostly, I suspect, to humiliate Mimi and cause her problems with Gordon. Of course, poor Mimi found out. But even worse, Gordon found out what Rita had done, and woe to anyone who upsets his Mimi. Suffice it to say, Rita's little scheme backfired. Gordon didn't believe any of her gossip, and since he couldn't get back at Rita directly, he got back at her through Don.

“Why, Don was Gordon's right-hand man,” she continued. “But after Gordon heard what Rita had done, he made Don's life a living hell. First he fired him. Then he made sure that no other dealership in the city would touch him with a ten-foot pole.” With a sigh, she added, “Needless to say, the two couples aren't friends any more, and ever since, Rita has had it in for Mimi. And you can mark my words, that's the only reason that Rita wanted to be HHS president to begin with. Just her little way of getting back at Mimi.”

The shorter woman shook her head. “Poor Don. That's just awful.”

Charlotte washed the last of the dirty dessert plates and rinsed it. In her opinion
awful
was too tame a word. More like cruel and downright nasty.

“But what on earth made Rita think that she could win against Mimi in the first place,” the shorter woman continued, “especially after all that Mimi's done for HHS over the years?”

The other woman shrugged. “Who knows,” she said, as she swirled what was left of the wine in her glass. “But I'm here to tell you, you can bet your prize roses that's not the end of it. No siree, not by a long shot.”

“Why would you say something like that?”

The taller woman glanced around the room, then leaned closer to her friend and lowered her voice. “I overheard Doreen Mires tell Karen Douglas that if Rita didn't win, Rita and some of her cohorts were going to quit and form their own garden club.”

“Shh, the others might hear you,” said the shorter woman, as she glanced around, but the taller woman waved away her concerns.

“They're probably in the parlor,” she said.

The shorter woman frowned. “So how come Doreen and Karen know so much?”

The taller woman shrugged. “Maybe they're in on it. Maybe they've hooked up with Rita.”

“But if I recall correctly, don't Doreen's and Karen's husbands work for Gordon too?”

The taller woman nodded. “Yep, they each manage one of his dealerships.”

“Well, if what you said about what Gordon did to Don is true, then Karen and Doreen had better watch their step if they know what's good for them. I know I would.”

“You're right about that,” the other woman agreed. “If Gordon thought for an instant that Doreen and Karen were in cahoots with Rita or had turned on Mimi, he'd do the same to their husbands as he did to Don in a New York minute. Why, I heard—”

“Hey, you two.” Another woman approached the two gossips, and they both plastered fake smiles on their faces. “I think our twenty minutes are up,” she said. “Everyone is heading back to the parlor.”

To Charlotte's relief, the two gossips followed the other woman, and within moments, the rest of the women in the dining room wandered back to the parlor.

In the kitchen, Charlotte stood at the sink and stared at the dirty wine glasses stacked on top of the cabinet. Had what she'd just overheard been vicious gossip, or was it true? If it were true, then what she'd heard had been a far different picture of Gordon Adams than the one that June had painted in her conversation with Mimi on Monday. According to June, Mimi's husband was the salt of the earth—generous, loving, and protective. But if the gossip were true, then Gordon Adams was a ruthless, vindictive man, a man who shouldn't be crossed.

And what about Mimi? Was Mimi just an innocent victim, a woman who was the object of another woman's unfounded jealousy, a woman in need of the protection of her powerful husband?

Charlotte thought back to the first day she'd met Mimi…the dead trees…the stinky flowers she'd been planting to get back at her neighbor…Charlotte shook her head. Hard to imagine that the woman she'd met that day needed anybody to protect her. So which was the real Mimi, and which was the real Gordon?

Who knows and who cares. Just mind your own business, do your job, and for Pete's sake, stop wasting time.

“Okay, okay, enough already,” Charlotte muttered in response to the voice of reason in her head.

A minute later, the now familiar rapping sound of Mimi's gavel echoed from the parlor. Evidently, she had finally rejoined the group and was calling the meeting back to order.

“Thank goodness,” Charlotte whispered. She glanced at her watch and wondered how much longer the rest of the meeting would take. As far as she was concerned, the sooner it was over, the better. She rubbed her lower back and grimaced. For one thing, she was tired, and being on her feet for the past hour without a break had made the dull ache in her back grow more painful. Visions of a nice long soak in a hot tub of water danced through her head.

“So get busy,” she told herself. If she could get the dining room and kitchen cleaned up now, once the meeting was over, straightening the parlor should only take a few minutes. Then she could finally go home.

The water in the sink had grown cold, so Charlotte drained the sink, refilled it with hot sudsy water, and placed the dirty wine glasses in to soak. Then, she headed for the dining room to collect the remaining dishes.

Since she'd already cleared out most of the plates and platters, all that were left were a few coffee cups and saucers. Clearing off the buffet was her first priority, and as she stacked the cups and saucers that hadn't been used back into the china cabinet, she heard Mimi announce that the group needed to decide on which charity would be the recipient of the proceeds from the upcoming fall plant sale.

“I think that new women's shelter in the warehouse district would be a good place to sponsor,” one woman said. “It's a worthy cause and would gain HHS a lot of respect in the community, not to mention a lot of publicity.”

“I agree with Doreen,” another voice chimed in. “It's only been open for a couple of weeks, and I heard that it's almost full already.”

“That's certainly a worthy project, Karen,” Mimi said, “but I had another project in mind. The renovations on the old Hebert plantation upriver near Luling are just about finished, and since our group's function is the preservation of heritage plants, I was hoping that the money we raise could be used to help with the landscaping. We could also donate some of the plants that are needed.” Mimi paused, then continued, “If there aren't any other projects you all want to consider, then I'll open up the discussion for the two that have been proposed.”

Charlotte only caught bits and pieces of the discussion that followed as she moved between the kitchen and the dining room, but what she did hear was heated and fraught with tension. If nothing else, the women were passionate about their convictions. And they were divided right down the middle, with one faction supporting Mimi's plantation project, and one supporting Doreen and Karen's women's shelter.

Charlotte was polishing the buffet in the dining room when Mimi called for a vote. “We'll vote by a show of hands,” she told the group.

In the dining room, Charlotte nodded her approval as she removed the crocheted tablecloth.
Live and learn. No secret ballots this time.

“Okay, then,” she heard Mimi say, “it's agreed that the Hebert plantation will be the beneficiary of our annual fall sale.”

“Ah, excuse me, Mimi.” Charlotte recognized the voice as that of the woman who had suggested the women's shelter. If she remembered right, the woman's name was Doreen.

“Karen and I have an appointment and are going to have to leave.”

“But, Doreen, we still have a lot of planning left,” Mimi argued.

“That may be, but I'm sure that you all can finish planning everything just fine without us.”

“But—”

“Are you coming, Karen?” Doreen asked pointedly.

“You betcha,” Karen answered. “I've had just about as much of this as I can stand for one day.”

Either play the game my way, or I'll just take my ball and go home.
In the dining room, Charlotte shook her head as she recapped the lemon oil and placed it back into her supply carrier. These women are unreal, she thought. Just like a bunch of children.

The moment the front door closed, the bees in the parlor began buzzing with a vengeance. Then the rapping of Mimi's gavel started.

“Ladies,” Mimi cried. “Ladies, please come to order.”

With another shake of her head, Charlotte headed for the kitchen to wash and dry the last of the wine glasses. Once that was done and she had put them away, the only chores left were washing the coffee urn and cleaning the parlor.

Once again she noted that the silver urn needed polishing, but that would be a job for another day, she decided. For today, a good washing would have to suffice.

She glanced toward the direction of the parlor. Maybe she could go ahead and get started on the parlor even though the women were still meeting. If nothing else, she could pick up any cups and saucers and wine glasses that might be in there.

Should she or shouldn't she? she wondered, but as she reached for the coffee urn, a sudden, unexpected wave of weakness came over her, and she gripped the edge of the sink instead.

Low blood sugar.
She grimaced. It wasn't the first time she'd experienced the feeling, and she immediately recognized it for what it was. Being a borderline diabetic wasn't a problem most of the time as long as she took her little pill each day and stuck to her diet. But sometimes, like now, for whatever reason, her glucose level would plummet, leaving her shaky and weak.

Charlotte sighed. She'd learned to keep a supply of glucose tablets handy for just such rare occasions, but naturally, she was out. She had intended to get some—she really had—but never got around to it.

“So much for cleaning the parlor,” she muttered. Besides, Mimi might not appreciate the interruption while the meeting was still in progress. What she needed at the moment was a jolt of sugar and a few minutes to recover. Maybe now would be a good time for a break.

Charlotte eyed the coffee urn again. More than likely a bit of caffeine with a half teaspoon of sugar would give her what she needed. And there was probably just enough left in the urn for a cup. Charlotte poured the coffee into a cup and spooned in a bit of sugar, then seated herself at the kitchen table. As she sipped the coffee, she noted that at least the pain in her back had eased to a dull throb.

Low blood sugar, backaches…“You're turning into a sickly old woman,” she complained, as she took a few more sips of coffee.

Charlotte had just finished her coffee and was feeling somewhat better when she heard a commotion in the hallway. Maybe the meeting was finally over, she thought. If it was over, she figured that by the time she washed the coffee urn, the women should be cleared out of the parlor. And once she straightened the parlor, she could finally go home.

When Charlotte entered the parlor, only Mimi and June were left. Mimi, looking a bit tired and drawn, had slipped off her shoes and was sitting on the sofa with her feet propped up on the coffee table. In her lap was a spiral notebook and pen. June was sitting in a winged-back chair adjacent to the sofa.

With a brief glance around the room, Charlotte surveyed the damage. There were a few wine glasses and cups and saucers that needed clearing away, and once she returned the extra chairs to the dining room, the only thing left to do would be to vacuum.