“And I’m Camille.
I gave your husband a little trim. He was due.”
I slowly turned to the doorway where Linda now stood.
“Didn’t I mention them, dear?” she said sweetly.
“They were exhausted — poor girls had nowhere to go. I let them sleep in a guest room.
They’re helping out a bit in return. It’s just temporary.”
There it was again. Temporary.
“You didn’t think to ask me?”
“You’ve been so overwhelmed, dear.”
“Oh really?”
I stared at my husband.
“Is that a new haircut?”
“Camille offered, and I thought — why not save forty bucks?”
“And how sweet he looks, doesn’t he?” Linda chimed in.
“So clean. So refreshed.”
“You’re saying I don’t?”
“You seem tired, dear. That’s no one’s fault.
But… it shows.”
I didn’t say a word. Just smiled.
Because Linda thought she’d set the rules of the game. But I had already took my plan.
And they were arriving the very next day.
In tool belts.
***
At 9:00 a.m. sharp, the doorbell rang.
By 9:03, Linda was standing in the hallway, barefoot, holding her herbal tea.
Three men stood on the porch.
“Morning!” I chirped, throwing the door wide open.
Linda blinked.
“Emily… who are these…?”
“Helpers!” I said brightly. “Like your girls.
Just a little extra support. The laundry’s done — now let’s fix the plumbing, the fence, and oh — someone’s finally trimming that jungle we called a lawn.”
The guys waved politely and stepped inside.
“Who are these guys?”
“Helpers. Garden, laundry, car.
You’ve been overpowered, dear.”
Ross opened his mouth. Closed it. Linda’s eye twitched.
The girls, predictably, came floating in like that was a reality show and someone had just introduced a twist.
Tessa looked puzzled.
Camille narrowed her eyes. Sofia?
And then began the most awkward day I’d had in months.
Mike fixed the pipes in his undershirt, flexing every time Ross walked by. Dean offered to take a look at Ross’s car and shouted things like, “Whoa, who did this wiring?”
“This is not appropriate.”
“You mean like letting three lingerie models move in and cut my husband’s hair?”
“That’s different.
They’re students.”
I leaned in, smiling.
“So are these guys. Students of trade. Very hardworking.”
At lunch, Dean said, “You know, Em, you haven’t changed a bit since high school.
Still gorgeous.”
I laughed.
“Flattery won’t fix the dryer, but I’ll take it.”
Ross stood up.
“Okay. This is getting out of hand.”
“Oh?” I blinked. “You didn’t say that when Camille gave you that free haircut.”
Linda stood abruptly.
“Alright, enough!
I think we’ve had plenty of… experiments for today.”
I held up the screen which is a clear photo of Linda’s open laptop.
Her notebook app was open, no password, no screen lock. Apparently, she still didn’t believe in such modern sorcery as privacy settings.
Lucky me!
And there it was. A neat little chart titled: “Potential matches for Ross.”
A hand-written chart with Camille, Tessa, and Sofia’s names.
Strengths. Weaknesses. Notes like “good with kids” and “naturally flirtatious.”
Ross stared at the page like it was written in another language.
“Mom… what the hell is this?”
Linda blushed, but only for a second.
“It’s just… a backup plan, sweetheart.”
“A backup plan?!”
“Okay.
That’s it. Everyone out. Girls, I’m sorry, but this was… way too much.
Guys — thanks for the help, really, but…”
Dean smiled.
“No hard feelings, man. She’s worth combating.”
Linda packed her tote bag in frosty silence.
When the house was finally quiet, Ross sat down on the couch and exhaled hard, like he’d just completed running a marathon he didn’t train for. I joined him.
“I’m sorry, Em.”
“For what?”
“For letting Mom steamroll in here like that.
For not noticing how much you’ve been doing. For being so… distracted. And for not doing what I should’ve been doing — fixing stuff, supporting you, telling you how amazing you are.”
“You forgot ‘not complimenting me’ in that list.”
“Apology accepted.”
“You were carrying everything.
I just didn’t want to admit it.”
“Well,” I said, leaning back, “now that we’ve both confessed our sins… there’s good news.”
“Yeah?”
“I got the promotion.”
“Seriously? Wow, honey! I am so proud of you!”
