“Like I said, I’m making the drive up to see Mom with Ella. We’re going to see Veggie Friends on Ice.”
I already knew that. I’d tried, and failed, to get tickets to the show even though the televised version makes my ears bleed and the three-hour drive to the arena and back with Ella sounded like pure hell. Anything to avoid the awkward afternoon that lay ahead of me. But they were all sold out.
“Fine. Abandon your sister in her time of need.”
Joy huffed. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
I started to say, “What’s that supposed to mean?” but Joy cut me off.
“Ella needs a change. Talk to you later!”
As I clicked off, the doorbell rang. Of course Gloria would be early.
I picked up Aubrey from her playpen and held her in front of me like a bulletproof vest. I swung open the door and was surprised to see a team of five women in crisp pink cotton dress uniforms with white aprons holding buckets full of cleaning supplies.
“Happy Maids to the rescue!” one sang.
Another chimed in, “We’re happy maids, we love to dust. Get a sparkling house without the fuss!” she belted out.
Aubrey shrieked with happiness at the impromptu musical.
“Wow! That’s...something,” I said. “Come in, come in.” I invited the barbershop quintet inside and they immediately spread out in all directions with mops, buckets and spray bottles filled with a rainbow of colors. I heard water running in the bathroom.
“Okay then, let me know if you need anything...” I’m not sure if any of them heard me as the only two in sight were already sweeping underneath the couches and vacuuming the drapes in the living room.
Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and a cheery-looking Happy Maid was standing there, holding a business card.
“I’m Mary! I love being a Happy Maid! We’ll be in and out in an hour, Mrs. Keller,” she practically sang before running off into the kitchen.
The doorbell rang again. This time when I opened it, standing in front of me was an impossibly tall, slender woman in brown slacks and a T-shirt from the concert of a band I’m probably not cool enough to know. Over the T-shirt she wore an expensive-looking caramel leather jacket with brass buttons. Her hair was in tiny black braids all the way down her back. She looked oddly familiar.
“Hi, I’m Ashley Keller.” I stretched out my hand. Aubrey babbled on my hip.
“Hi, Ashley, I’m Shelly Harbor,” she said, studying my porch.
Shelly Harbor! The interior designer to the stars! The brains behind every celebrity baby nursery was about to enter the aesthetic disaster I call my home. I gulped.
“Oh, my goodness, Shelly! I’m a big fan. I love your work!” I couldn’t believe she was here. In the flesh. A TV person who rubs elbows with famous actors every day. I bet she just came from a mansion with twenty-foot ceilings. My home was going to look like a campground compared to what she normally deals with.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said sweetly, entering the house. She carried a white suede clutch with gold accents that somehow paired perfectly with her slacks and T-shirt. Even in white ballet flats she was so glamorous.
“Can I get you anything to drink or eat? Breakfast?” I asked. Yeah, Ashley, she wants some eggs and orange juice. Get it together. Pretend like you interact with people on a daily basis, I thought.
She smiled. “I’m fine. It’s so great to meet you. Emily sent me the photos from your home and I think there’s a lot we can do here.”
It was only then that I remembered that I’d sent in photos of every room as part of the bootcamp contest entry form. There was a slight possibility that I’d edited out a little bit of the clutter. If Joy can Photoshop her kid’s lashes, is it so wrong to make a little laundry disappear?
Shelly sat down at the kitchen table and opened up a sketchbook with all kinds of collages from magazines. Two feet away from us a Happy Maid was spraying and wiping down the cabinets. We’re supposed to clean the cabinets?
Shelly barely seemed to notice, but I found it tough to stay focused with all of the excitement.
“Your home is already beautiful, and the paint looks recent. All that’s missing are livable storage spaces for things. I’m thinking a modern country look updated to suit a growing family. How many kids do you have?”
Not again. I shifted Aubrey from one knee to the other. “Just the one.”
Shelly touched her face. “Oh... I thought from the photos...”
Apparently I hadn’t edited ALL of the clutter out.
“She has a lot of toys.”
Shelly smiled kindly. “I’m sure it’s normal. You should have seen Emily’s house before I redesigned it.” She laughed.
Before she redesigned it? I thought Emily did all of her own interior design.
I cleared my throat. “Doesn’t Emily—” But I was interrupted by the beeping of a truck backing up.
Shelly stood up. “We have a surprise for you, Ashley! Your Emily Walker Home furniture is coming in today and we threw in a few extras. You’re going to love it.”
I felt a bubble of excitement begin to rise into my throat. It was followed by a bubble of dread. Who knows, maybe I’ll win the lottery...
The doorbell rang again.
Shelly stood up. “It’s showtime!”
I swung the door open again and there was Fran?ois. I was relieved to see that there was no camera crew this time.
“Fran?ois!”
“Allo! I just wanted to pop by and help out any way zat I can!” He pushed past me and hugged Shelly. Of course they’d know each other.
“Did she tell you zee good news?” Fran?ois said while pulling a little black-and-white striped handkerchief out of his lapel to dab at his brow.
“Yes, the furniture is here! I’m so excited!”
It was then that I noticed Fran?ois had brought a guest who was still in the doorway. He was tall, in his fifties and was wearing a gray suit and tie. His formal appearance was in stark contrast to Shelly’s rockstar glam and Fran?ois’s French chic looks.
“Hello, I’m Ashley.” I reached out my hand and he shook it curtly.
Fran?ois cut in. “Ah, yes. Ashley, I want you to meet Dr. Simpson.”
Dr. Simpson stared at me as if he was trying to figure something out. He noted the flurry of cleaning ladies running around in dresses and nodded.
“How brave of you to let them into your space,” Dr. Simpson said, nodding toward the Happy Maids. “How are you feeling about this?” He removed a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket.
“Excuse me?” I asked, puzzled.
Fran?ois touched my elbow. “Is zere somewhere we can sit down?”
“Sure.”
Shelly coughed nervously and then excused herself. “I’m going to help the delivery men...good luck.”