Free Be My Neat-Heart by Judy Baer Page A

had a cleaning lady for a while,” she said cheerfully, “but she fired me. She said it was the first time she’d ever had to do that. But she told me that if I ever got the place under control, she’d consider coming back. Wasn’t that nice of her?”
    I couldn’t help but stare at this personable, pretty young woman who, by all accounts, could create chaos faster than anyone—even a professional—could clean up.
    â€œYou’re rather upbeat about it.”
    Unexpectedly, her hazel-colored eyes clouded with tears. “I detest it, Ms. Smith.”
    â€œCall me Sammi.”
    â€œSammi, I loathe the fact that I’m isolating myself. I can’t have my friends into my house because they’d be shocked. I despise it that none of my family wants to come here to visit. And I can’t stand it that my only brother thinks I’m somehow doing this to spite him and my parents!”
    She sat down on the corner of a chair housing a pair of eight-pound weights, a fishing tackle box, a wad of towels anda stack of unopened mail. “And I am so disgusted with myself for not being able to figure out what to do about it! What’s wrong with me?”
    â€œNothing is ‘wrong’ with you. God created you. Your habits need a little work, that’s all. This is doable. We’ll figure something out.”
    I saw relief spread across her features like sunlight over shade.
    â€œAnd my brother won’t hate me anymore?”
    â€œâ€˜Hate’ is a strong word.”
    â€œYou’re right. Jared couldn’t hate me even though he has every reason to do so. He wouldn’t even know how. Besides, he’s a Christian. That’s what makes him so patient with me, I’m sure of it.”
    I pondered her convoluted statement. “I can’t imagine anyone not succumbing to your charm,” I assured her.
    She looked at me with an odd, evaluating expression. “Then you don’t understand what’s been going on between me and my brother lately.”
    I didn’t, but that overheard conversation in my office had sent up a few red flags.
    I left Molly Hamilton’s house with a vague sense of foreboding.
    What am I getting myself into? I wondered as I slipped into the front seat of my car. I leaned wearily against the headrest. I had to think. There were dynamics here I didn’t understand. Molly needed me and had agreed to work with me but her brother Jared was the one footing the bill. Who was the client here, really? That, I knew, would have to be very clear before I cashed his check.
    Â 
    I returned to my office to find Wendy sitting at Theresa’s desk helping her put printed labels on an advertising flyer and laughing heartily at something. When I walked in, Wendystraightened to attention and I had a sense that if she’d dared, she would have saluted.
    â€œAt ease, Wendy.”
    She grinned. “Sorry. So how did the skirmish go?”
    â€œI’m not captain of the Sanitation Army, you know.”
    â€œHow quickly I forget.”
    If Wendy isn’t good for anything else, she’s great at pricking my ego and deflating it to size.
    I dropped into the chair across from her. “Jared Hamilton is right. His sister needs me.”
    â€œSo what’s the problem, then?”
    â€œI’d rather that she’d called me herself, I suppose. Even though she seems excited, even enthusiastic about this, I’m not crazy about having a middleman to answer to.”
    â€œSo don’t answer,” Wendy said cheerily. “You make everything too hard, Sammi. That’s why Theresa and I did some work for you. We’re helping you out.”
    Wendy and Theresa collaborating in my behalf gives me a cold chill. That was like “helping” an Eskimo build an igloo by offering to hold a hair dryer on his work.
    Before I could say anything, Theresa thrust a piece of paper in front of me. “Here.