Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (15 page)

All his parents had to do was sign a contract with the modeling agency, and fork over fifteen hundred bucks for a photo shoot that would guarantee he’d be assigned the most lucrative jobs.

Now Mindy was pissed. Being scammed was even worse than being spammed. And her anger coupled with stress, on top of eating anything that said chocolate is thy name, meant one thing.

It was a PMS day. And the only good that could come from this conf luence of hormones and hunger was channeling that energy into writing a nasty response to the company, accusing them of snaring innocent writers into their cruel hoax. She’d show them how crafty she was with words!

“Oh thank God you’re home.”

Not again! But it wasn’t her husband hitting the replay button.

It was Beth’s.

“Richard?”

“Mindy, I am so sorry to do this to you, but I need your help.

If she leaves now I’ll go crazy. You have to stop her.”

“Me stop her? But she already left.”

“Are you sure? Damn her! After all these years!”

“Wait. You didn’t know she left last night?”

“What are you talking about?” Richard smacked his desk. “I just spoke to her and she was at the house. She promised to wait till I got home tonight to talk.”

“Really? I spoke to Beth this morning and she was . . . not there.”

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“Not Beth! Marina! Marina is the one I need you to stop from leaving.”

“Marina?”

“Yeah. What a time for her to bail!”

“Because of Beth leaving?”

“Because I have to go out of town tomorrow.”

“I’m so confused. When did she quit?”

“Just now. She called and said she’d been interviewing with other families, and one made her an offer this morning for a lot more money and today was her last day.”

“Oh my God. That’s awful.”
Seriously? You’re surprised?

“Tell me about it. . . . I guess when she showed up this morning and found out that Beth left, she figured it was now or never. I mean she’d been asking for a raise, but I kept telling Beth we didn’t need a live-in anymore. She’s not working, the girls aren’t babies.

Plus, it’s been so crazy with Beth and Marina constantly screaming at each other. Anyway, I couldn’t tell if she was bullshitting or not, but if she really left, I am so screwed. That’s why I thought if you talked to her, she’d listen. She always liked you.”

“Okay, but to be honest, I know she’s been thinking about doing this for a while.”

“Damn! Then what the hell am I supposed to do now? Beth’s car is done and I have to return the rental, not that I even know where it is because she took it, and remember when I said this morning that I had this major presentation for Nike this week?”

“Sort of.”

“Well, seems there was some kind of screwup and Nike was expecting us to come to them, so now I’ve got to rush my kishkes out first thing tomorrow. I’m getting too old for this Mindy.

The ad game sucks. Anyway, how can I leave town if Marina’s gone?”

“Well have you spoken to Beth?”

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“I left three messages but she’s not picking up. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with her. Nothing I do is right, she’s always mad at someone. My mom was saying it’s probably a change of life thing. She went crazy, too, not that she ever left her family to go hide at the house of some guy she met at a bar.”

“Wait. You know?”

“Of course! She had to throw it in my face that this rich surgeon thought she was amazing and was going to let her use his place out in East Hampton so she could think . . . the only reason I haven’t gone out there to kill her is that he’s out of town.”

And the check is in the mail.
“Can maybe your parents help out?”

“No, they’re in Florida and my dad is still going through radiation. My mom won’t leave him.”

“Oh, right. Right. Of course. So like where do you have to go tomorrow?”

“Portland, Oregon. That’s where Nike is based.”

“Richard, no way! Artie is leaving for Portland in the morning, too. He has to go rescue Aaron. Are you on United’s six a.m. ?”

“No, American, but it leaves around the same time. Wow, that is crazy! Well, if he wants, he can share the limo with me. Agency’s paying. No big deal.”

“Actually, that would be great because otherwise I’d have to drive him.”

“Good, good. At least now I can return the favor since I’m leaning on you like this.”

“What do you want me to do exactly?”

“I guess try to talk Marina into staying for the week, ’cause if she won’t, you’ll have to take my kids until I can get back. God, I hate her.”

“Who, Marina?”

“No. Beth!”

* * *

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Forget plates crashing. This was Survivor, the home edition, only Mindy had no idea if she would get a commercial break.

But no need to panic. She would call the people in her life and press one for immediate assistance. Or not.

Beth would not pick up her cell as she was too busy doing God only knows what with Mercedes Man.

Marina was sorry that Richard was in a bind, but after seven years of putting up with their nonsense, she had made up her mind to leave, especially now that this new family was paying her a hundred more a week, they just redid the maid’s room, and there wasn’t anyone in the family named Beth.

Mindy’s mom was also very sorry, but now that she’d finally retired, wasn’t she entitled to have some fun? Turns out that those nice fellows on the cruise, Max and Mort, were true to their word and hooked up Helene and Toby with their rich widower cousins, and the four of them were having a grand old time.

“And they treat for everything. Won’t even let us leave the tip!”

Rhoda, never one to lift a finger when you could pay someone else to do it, would not even hear of taking Mindy’s place in the office for a few days, as she had barricaded herself in the house, unable to face their friends, let alone her husband’s employees, after his childish behavior had sent her into a deep, he-doesn’t-stand-a-chance depression.

Stan, meanwhile, wasn’t buying any of his wife’s high drama and told Artie it was about time she got a wake-up call, and that he was running back down to Florida for a few days of golf and that he expected Mindy to hold the fort down because if he left the other girls in charge, they’d put him out of business by the time he got back.

And Nadine, always good in a pinch, was in a pinch herself.

She and Peter were en route to IU for Jonathan’s music audition, and though their daughter, Rebecca, was being watched by Nadine’s mom, she no longer owned a car and was afraid to drive Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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one of those “monster truck” SUVs. Nadine needed Mindy to get Rebecca to and from the high school.

No big deal, Mindy thought. She’d feed and care for her children and Beth’s children and get them to and from school and their activities, schlep Rebecca and her huge marching tuba, put in three days at the office, and then tomorrow night host a lovely party for Karen’s customers, who really just wanted a night out and would schmooze for hours over cake and coffee while examining the pocketbooks, whispering that the copies weren’t as good as they used to be and that Apryl Wynter was selling the same bags for so much less.

But really. She was so done with being negative.

Maybe if she called Artie at the store, he would say something inspiring. Wasn’t that how it worked in the world of greeting cards? The right words could fix everything? Unfortunately, this was real life, and the only thing Artie said after only half listening to her was that he hoped she understood, but he wasn’t coming home without Aaron.

“Can’t leave him there. He’s got no adult supervision, no support, and I don’t care if he gives me a hard time.”

“That’s right. You say in your best Darth Vader voice, Luke, I am your father, and you have to do what I tell you.”

“Exactly. He has to accept the facts. His new home is Long Island.”

“Right. No, of course. He has to move in with us . . . maybe the girl and the baby, too.”

She hung up and went online. Time to read all that spam and find out how much it cost to buy mega doses of Zoloft. Only to discover that Downtown Greetings had already sent her a reply asking her to call immediately because they had an important matter to discuss.

What to do now? Send a second e-mail apologizing for being a tad hasty? Explain that she had terrible PMS, and to please 130

Saralee Rosenberg

disregard everything she’d said because of course she would love to receive the scholarship? Better to call and plead ignorance . . .

or maybe take a page from Stacie’s playbook.

“Anna Jane Crandall’s office,” a young woman answered. “This is Olivia.”

“Hi, Olivia . . . great name . . . loved you in
Grease.
”
Um,
this is one of the contest people? You sent me an e-mail this morning about your incredible scholarship opportunity. I was like wondering if you saw my reply?”

“Well I don’t know yet. Who is this?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. I’d tell you, but I’m afraid to on account of the fact that I just found out my kids did this really awful thing

. . . they were on my computer reading my e-mails and then wrote back pretending to be me . . . And now I see the one they sent to you was so mean . . . I swear, they are grounded for life.”

“Mindy, right? From Long Island.”

Shit!
“Yes . . . and look, I am so sorry because, oh my god, this is an incredible opportunity. I practically died when I read what they wrote.”

“You have some crazy kids, that’s for sure, but I know how they are with their computers. I have a bunch of nieces and nephews.

This one time my nephew Anthony took his dad’s credit card from his wallet, went online, and bought a monkey. A real live monkey, from like South America, or maybe it was South Africa

. . . somewhere south.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. So then my brother-in-law gets this e-mail that the monkey is coming in to O’Hare on such and such a day and he’d better be there on time because otherwise there’s this big pen-alty for cruelty to animals or something.”

“That is hilarious!” Mindy was relieved to be talking to such a nice person.

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“Yeah. Kids can do wild stuff,” Olivia chucked. “So yours are off today?”

“No, they’re at school.”

“Oh. Then how did they read your e-mail? I just sent it a little while ago.”

“Um . . .”

“And they must be geniuses because . . . wait . . . I have a copy right here. . . . I had to look up the word
egregious
. It’s been a long time since the SATs.”

“Okay.” Mindy sighed. “I surrender. I wrote the e-mail. . . . I am so sorry.”

“Thought so!”

“I am so bad at lying. That’s why people love playing poker with me. But can I ask you something? If you knew I was making up a story, why didn’t you stop me?”

“’Cause I understand why you wrote it . . . hold on, Anna Jane’s on the other line.”

When she returned, she said, “Mother of God, she’s tough.

‘Do this. Do that. Now, Olivia, now!’ She is one loco lady.”

“Hey, I hear ya. I work for my father-in-law at his medical office, and if it was legal, he’d beat me with a stick and tell me I had two bathroom breaks a day, use them wisely.”

“You are funny,” Olivia laughed. “That’s why I picked you.”

“
You
picked me?”

“Sure did. I picked all the scholarship winners. Matter of fact, the whole thing was my idea! But now Anna Jane is going around telling everyone she thought of it.”

“That’s so mean. By any chance do you know if she read my e-mail?”

“Lord, no! I deleted it. Otherwise you would have gotten one back that would have made yours look like a nursery rhyme.”

“Oh, thank God . . . wow! You are a real lifesaver. Why are you being so nice?”

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“Oh, girlfriend, I knew why you sent it as soon as I read it. It’s PMS, right?”

“Yes! Exactly! Oh my God. I am going crazy today,” Mindy laughed.

“Been there! I have the worst time—the bloating, the crav-ings . . .”

“ . . . the mood swings!” Mindy chimed in. “Last Halloween my husband bought me a broom and said don’t bother putting it away. You can use it all year.”

“That’s a good one!” Olivia laughed. “My fiancé tells everyone he marks my bad days of the month in big red circles so he knows when it’s safe to talk to me.”

“Hey, if my husband did that, every day would be circled in red. Don’t bother her, feed her chocolate, carry a concealed weapon . . .”

Olivia laughed. “Mindy, I can’t wait to meet you. And I sure hope you’re on board now, ’cause your greeting cards would be a stitch!”

“Yes, definitely. And thank you for being so understanding. I owe you one . . . but um, could I ask you a question while we’re on the subject?”

“Sure.”

“Did you also pick Beth Diamond for a scholarship? We’re next-door neighbors.”

“Ohhh. Isn’t that cute! Like Lucy and Ethel.”

“Actually, more like Lucy and Evita. She thinks everyone should kiss her feet.”

“Oh, I know someone just like her. My mom’s next-door neighbor is a piece of work, too. Listen to this. The day my parents moved in, this lady comes over and doesn’t even say hello, how are you, welcome to the block, here’s some pie. She’s screaming that their trees are hanging on her property and the fence needs to be moved because that’s on her property, too, and she’s Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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got a tape measure and my mom is like, oh dear Lord, stop the movers!”

“That is crazy!”

“I know, so I get where you’re coming from with her, but yeah, Beth got picked too because you should see her sketches. She’s real, real talented.”

“I know.”

“But I can let you in on a little secret,” Olivia whispered. “I bet it’ll make you feel a whole lot better.”

“I’m great with secrets.”

“Okay then . . . it looks like I’m going to be one of the judges, on account of the fact that Anna Jane’s boss knows I came up with the whole scholarship thing.”