Wash And Die. Barbara Colley
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and true natives of New Orleans, and in spite of her son’s objections, Bitsy couldn’t wait to come back home.
Charlotte was just thankful that she’d had the good sense to hire Dale Brown, and that Dale seemed to genuinely care about the old lady. And she was also grateful that Dale would be finished with his semester finals in time to clean for Bitsy the following Tuesday.
Too bad Dale only had one more semester till graduation. She’d have to start giving some serious thought to hiring someone else pretty soon.
Though her mind was still on the bag of books and her employee, Dale Brown, she did notice that the black SUV that she’d seen that morning, along with its occupant, was gone just before she pulled into her driveway.
As Charlotte shifted the gear into park, her gaze strayed to her front porch. Then she froze, her hand hovering above the ignition. A woman was sitting on the front-porch swing. But not just any woman, she suddenly realized.
Joyce Thibodeaux.
Charlotte felt as if she’d just been sucker punched, and dread, like a slab of concrete, weighed down her insides.
“Dear Lord in Heaven, now what?” she whispered.
Chapter 2
For more reasons than she could count, the very last person on earth that Charlotte wanted to see was Joyce Thibodeaux, the ex-wife of her tenant, Louis Thibodeaux. Before Joyce had finally been forced to enter a substance abuse program at a local hospital, she’d caused enough trouble and heartache for ten people, including Charlotte.
Poor Louis. Charlotte sighed. Did he know that Joyce was out of the hospital earlier than she was supposed to be? More than likely, he didn’t. If he had known, he would have said something before he left Sunday afternoon for an assignment in New York.
“Oh, boy,” she whispered. Louis was going to be furious when he did find out. But who could really blame him after what Joyce had put him through. After abandoning Louis and their troubled teenage son years ago, she’d come back into his life and claimed to be dying. But it had all been a lie. Knowing how Louis felt about her alcoholism, and desperately needing to get out of California, Joyce had used the dying ploy to play on Louis’s sympathies and to cover up the fact that she was still a drunk.
Charlotte switched off the engine. Not looking forward to the confrontation with Joyce, she took her time gathering her stuff.
You did this…. This is your fault…. Joyce’s accusation on the day she was taken away by paramedics whispered through Charlotte’s head. Considering that she was partially responsible for helping Louis persuade Joyce to agree to a drug rehab program, Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion that Joyce wasn’t there to pay her a social visit—especially since Louis hadn’t given Joyce much of a choice in the matter. It was either agree to go into the program or fend for herself on the streets.
Knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable confrontation any longer, Charlotte finally climbed out of the van. Both women simply stared at each other, and neither spoke as Charlotte approached the porch.
The first thing that caught Charlotte’s eye as she climbed the short flight of stairs was that Joyce had lost weight and was wearing the same clothes she’d had on when she had entered the hospital weeks before. Joyce was a couple of years younger than Charlotte, and according to Louis, Joyce had always been a thin woman, but now she looked even skinnier than before. Of course the fact that she had pulled her red hair back tightly into a ponytail made her look even more emaciated.
She must be cold, Charlotte thought, her gaze taking in the short-sleeved T-shirt Joyce was wearing.
The next thing that Charlotte noticed was the large bundle at Joyce’s feet. It was wrapped in what appeared to be towels and tied up like a gift with a thin rope.
Since Joyce had nothing but the clothes on her back when she’d entered the hospital and had no income, and assuming that the bundle belonged to Joyce, Charlotte wondered how she had acquired anything during her time there. Of course it was always possible that Louis or Stephen had sent her a few of the clothes she’d left at Louis’s house. And, too, it was possible that one of the many charities could have contributed clothes to the hospital.
The second that Charlotte stepped onto the porch, Joyce abruptly stood and took a step toward her. Charlotte immediately tensed, unsure just what to expect.
“Hi, Charlotte.”
To Charlotte’s surprise, Joyce’s tone was subdued, as was the expression on her face. With a nod of her head, she returned the greeting. “Hello, Joyce.”
As they stood staring at each other, an awkward silence stretched out into several long minutes. Joyce was the first to finally break the silence. “I—I know that I’m probably the last person on earth that you want to see, and I apologize for showing up without calling first. But frankly, I was afraid that you wouldn’t take my call either. Neither Louis nor Stephen will answer my phone calls. And yeah, I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. After what I did, what can I expect?”
A tear rolled down Joyce’s cheek, and Charlotte felt the resentment inside crumble.
“Truth is, I’m scared, Charlotte. I was just released from the hospital. They don’t have enough beds for the psych patients as it is, never mind those of us with addiction problems, so they released me to free up a bed.” Joyce shrugged. “And now I have nowhere else to go and nobody to turn to.” Another tear rolled down her cheek.
“I’m scared, Charlotte. Scared to stay by myself. Right now, I’m clean and I’m sober, but I’m terrified of falling off the wagon again. The doctors told me that my fears were normal, and that after a few days on the outside, I’d get better. I do plan to get my own place as soon as possible, but I need somewhere to stay besides on the street until then. I know I have no right to ask you this, but could I please stay with you—just until I find my own place?”
More tears filled Joyce’s eyes and spilled over, but Charlotte steeled herself against the pity she felt and reminded herself that Joyce had proven to be a habitual liar…and a consummate actress.
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone…. Judge not, lest ye be judged….
When the Bible verses popped into her head, Charlotte knew in that moment what she had to do. Faults or no faults, she couldn’t turn Joyce away, but try as she might, she couldn’t stem the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Just because it was the right thing to do didn’t mean she liked it.
Before she could change her mind, Charlotte forced herself to nod her head, and though the words were like chewing nails, she said, “Yes, you can stay here for a couple of days, but just until you find your own place.”
The look of relief on Joyce’s face was heart-wrenching. “Thank you, Charlotte,” she gushed. “I promise I won’t be any trouble, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
Yeah, right. Famous last words….
Ignoring her inner voice of doom and gloom, Charlotte nodded again, then turned and stepped over to the front door of her half of the double and unlocked the door.
The moment that Charlotte entered the living room, her little parakeet, Sweety Boy, began to squawk. “Missed you, squawk, missed you.”
Charlotte grinned. “Good boy,” she crooned. “And I missed you too.”
Joyce closed the door behind her, and upon hearing the exchange between Charlotte and the bird, she stopped in front of his cage and frowned. “Never have liked birds,” she muttered. “Especially in the house.” After a moment, she faced Charlotte. “Why on earth would you want to teach that wretched thing to talk?”
Oh, boy, here we go. Not only was it a rude thing to say, but it amazed Charlotte that Joyce would be so…so…inconsiderate of her feelings about her pet. Charlotte never had been the type who liked confrontations, so she counted to ten before she tried to speak. Then, swallowing back the sudden