Page 72 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I typed all the variations of Liz’s name into the search engine.

There were a few items, but nothing I didn’t already know, mostly local organizations she belonged to, or classes she taught locally. One connection was odd. She’d done some work with a birth mother support organization.

Probably taught a therapy class.

I clicked away and tried searching for artists from Montana. A half hour later, I’d turned up nothing.

With a sigh, I clicked off the computer, just as the third text message came in from Joe.

You’re obviously busy, it said. Can we plan something later this week?

I ignored it and gathered my laundry. Undoing the sofa, I added the bedding. Liz and Kathleen had gone off to sightsee downtown, but I told them I was tired and wanted to stay home. Basket, soap, and quarters in hand, I trudged to the laundry room. Once I’d started my loads, I ignored the sign that told me not to leave my laundry and went back to the RV.

There, I got out the small vacuum we’d brought with us and tended to every aspect of that sofa. No crumb, dust mote, or spider was left undisturbed. Then a trip back to the laundry to move clothes from washer to dryer. Then getting out spray bottles and cleaning with fabric cleaner, polishing the fake wood in the areas surrounding my “bedroom,” and rubbing the window and light fixtures until they gleamed.

The whoosh of the door made me look up. Kathleen and Liz walked in, packages in their arms.

“What are you doing?” Kathleen asked.

“Cleaning.”

“Deep cleaning from the looks of it.”

“So?” My sister brought annoyance to a new level. I was spoiling for a fight. Just let her keep pushing.

Kathleen shrugged.

“I’m going to make a super dinner tonight,” Liz said, her voice overly cheerful. “I’m in the mood to get creative.”

“Which means it will be amazing,” Kathleen said. “Or not.”

Liz playfully smacked our sister. “Just because one time I made something inedible …”

“Totally inedible. And it wasn’t only once.”

“I only remember once.”

“Let me remind you …”

I let my sisters’ chatter fade into the background as I finished up my tasks, then left for the laundry. By the time I returned with folded clothes and clean bedding, Liz was hard at work in the kitchen.

“Let me help you with the bed,” Kathleen said.

“Okay.” Bedmaking was always easier with two.

As we snapped the fitted bottom into place and prepared the top sheet—hospital corners and all—Kathleen told me about the places they’d gone to during their excursion. “Did you know there’s a camera shop on one of the side streets?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said in a tone I hoped would end that particular topic.

“Not ready to get one yet, then?”

“I don’t need one.”

“So you say.” We put the bed back together. She handed me the box that held all the little things I liked to have around me, mementos I’d picked up as a kid or after Larry and I had split.

There was nothing from my marriage.

“I remember you cleaning like this once before,” Kathleen said.

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