Shop and Let Die Read Online Free Page B

Tell your brother I said
to do his, too.” They did it without much complaint—the deal was
they collected the laundry and then had an hour to watch TV while I
decided what was for dinner.
    I know the image of the
stay-at-home mom is of someone who plans meals in advance, does the
laundry herself (including collecting, folding, and putting
away…maybe even ironing if she didn’t buy permanent press). But
that’s not me.
    I hate to cook. If I lived
by myself I’d eat pb&j or salads. Maybe, if I stayed on low
carb regimens forever, I’d just eat handfuls of nuts and cut up
veggies with a side of hummus. Store bought hummus.
    I glanced at my pile of
cookbooks. I’ve bought cookbooks with pictures, cookbooks with
complete meal plans, cookbooks with no-fail recipes. I’ve
registered at meal planning sites on the web that even compile a
grocery list. But no one made a complete meal plan that will
satisfy my small family of four. Not even me. Especially not
me.
    Stew? No. Ryan doesn’t
like his food to touch. Stir fry? Anna doesn’t like her vegetables
cooked. Except corn on the cob. Which Ryan can’t eat because of the
braces he got three months ago.
    I took some frozen chicken
out and started thawing it in the microwave. Lemon. Rosemary. Salad
and bread. Good enough. I was ahead of schedule. If I smoked, like
Donna at the SuperiorMart, I could have grabbed time for at least
half a cigarette. But I didn’t smoke, and I never had.
    The kids were wrestling
over the remote control as the TV switched insanely between
SpongeBob and Digimon. It occurred to me that Judge Judy should be
on, so I exercised parental authority as I picked up the now full
laundry basket. “When I come up, if you haven’t decided who is
watching what, you’re going to start homework and I’m going to
watch Judge Judy.” I could watch TV and do my reports. Supermoms
are good at multi-tasking.
    “ That’s not fair, we did
the laundry. Now we get to watch TV. That’s the deal.” Ryan was
indignant.
    “ The deal is you get to
watch peacefully. Peace. Quiet. Got it?” My imitation of the cranky
redheaded judge impressed them into silence.
    In the basement I went
into spy mode again, checking for mysterious chocolate milk or
ketchup stains, gingerly sticking my fingers into pockets for
chewed gum, candy, crayons, pens, and paper, which do not fare well
in the dryer. I kept a container of hand wipes on the dryer, just
to get the feel of chewed gum and melted chocolate off my hands
quickly. You’d never catch James Bond doing this.
    In Anna’s jeans pocket, I
found a piece of paper folded up to a small neat square. I unfolded
it to find a flyer with “Have You Seen My Mom?” and a picture of
the woman with a friendly smile. I’d seen at the supermarket. I
noticed the date this time. She’d been missing for a
week.
    I looked at her face one
more time. She didn’t really look like the type who could run off
with the pool boy and leave her children behind. I ripped the
picture into a thousand tiny pieces and threw it into the trash
can. I put an old softener sheet and a clump of dryer lint on top
so Anna wouldn’t notice. I worry about how much that child worries
about the bad things in the world.
    I found fifty cents in the
bottom of the washer basket. Mine. All mine. Not quite enough for a
cup of coffee at the gas station, but almost. I deserved it for
getting through today without mishaps.
    A quick dash to get the
chicken in the oven and homework sorted out, and I would have a
good hour of peace to log in the reports for the shops I’d
done—well within the 24 hour time limit. I’d keep super shopper and
supermom status for the day.

 
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    Job Fair or Unfair
     
    I had just retrieved my half-charged cell phone,
got dinner in the oven and the kitchen cleaned up when Seth came
in, early, dropping his backpack by the door and shrugging out of
his jacket, all while asking his usual question, “What’s