Read Online Betsy Wickwire's Dirty Secret by Vicki Grant - Free Book Online Page A

Murdoch, I’m Dolores and this here is Betsy … But I guess you and Betsy are already”—she smirked—”acquainted.”
    She let that sink in for a second. A tiny shudder rippled through his lanky frame. I totally understood the feeling.
    â€œWe’re co-owners of Lapins de Poussière Cleaning Service.” She said it with a thick French accent.
    â€œOh … Right … Mom said cleaning ladies were coming today.”
    â€œThis your room?” she said.
    â€œUh-huh.” Murdoch pulled the door closed, but not before Dolores got a peek inside.
    â€œThat poster Polish by any chance?”
    â€œNo. Um. Czech.” He adjusted the collar of his plaid shirt. His hands were huge, even compared to the rest of him. The phrase “World’s Biggest Hillbilly!” popped into my head. I don’t know if I’d read that somewhere or if it had something to do with the horn-rimmed glasses and retro clothes.
    â€œCzech. Of course! I didn’t get a very good look at it. I love Czech design! Where’d you get it?”
    â€œOh, just, like, eBay. I’ve got, you know, a couple of them.”
    â€œReal-ly? Fascinating. You’ll have to show them to me sometime.”
    Dolores mentioned some designer she adored. Murdoch nodded uncomfortably but I got the impression he liked the guy too. Dolores started talking about the designer’s use of colour and graphic elements. Murdoch didn’t add a whole lot to the conversation but he did mention something about photo manipulation. That sent Dolores roaring off about special effects favoured by Communist Bloc designers in the 1960s.
    I stood there sort of listening to them but mostly just lost in my own brain. I wouldn’t have recognized a Czech poster if it was tacked to my forehead. When I’d run into Dolores at Zinnia’s the other day, I’d been pretty confident that she was the weird one, but thingshad clearly changed. Here, at least—now, at least—I was the odd one out. Was it my turn?
    Dolores’s voice kind of disappeared. I watched her gesturing away, laughing, Murdoch nodding, and I had to wonder. Had I used up my entire lifetime supply of popularity? Of normalcy? Was this the way it was going to be from here on in? I felt sort of sad. I looked at my grey, clammy, cleaning-lady hands and sighed.
    â€œOops, sounds like it’s time to go.” Dolores nudged Murdoch and made him look at me. “Miss Wickwire is subtly indicating that our two hours are up.”
    That’s not what I’d been doing at all. I glared at her.
    â€œOh, sorry,” Murdoch said. “Didn’t mean to keep you.”
    Dolores went, “Yeah, yeah, sure,” then was off talking about some Japanese film that had something to do with a scary naked guy. Murdoch knew the movie too. I was out of the conversation again. I took my supplies and went downstairs ahead of them.
    I was amazed at the transformation. The shoes in the hallway were lined up. The living room was tidy. The magazines were put away, the pillows fluffed, the clothes folded. There was nothing on the kitchen counter any more except that slim stack of twenties.
    I knew Dolores well enough to realize this was a trick, but I still couldn’t help being impressed. I put the broomback in the closet and the cleansers under the sink and acted like I didn’t notice.
    Dolores was standing on the second step now, talking to Murdoch. She still barely came up to his shoulder. He stood with his arms crossed and his hands in his armpits. It’s the way you’d stand if you were cold, but the house was warm. I realized he was still embarrassed.
    â€œLove to stay and talk but I can’t. Got a lot of houses to do today.”
    Dolores was such a liar. I felt less bad about not complimenting her on her cleaning job.
    â€œIf your mother needs us again, she can always reach us by e-mail or phone.” She ran her finger