There was absolutely no reason for anyone to clean my floors again.
Mavis and Frank had a spare key for emergencies.
Apparently, Mavis decided arriving early to “help” counted as one.
When I returned from a quick grocery run that afternoon, she was standing in my kitchen.
Beside her sat a bucket of gray water.
My invitations were inside it.
All ninety-six.
The envelopes had swollen and split open.
Ink ran down the paper.
Stamps floated in the dirty water alongside ruined address labels.
I dropped my grocery bag.
“What happened?”
Mavis turned around.
“Oh.”
Just that.
Oh.
Then she glanced at the bucket as if she’d only just noticed it.
“Honey, don’t panic.”
“What happened?”
“I was washing the floor.”
I stared at her.
“You were what?”
“Washing the floor. The bucket was beside the table, and I bumped it.”
She shrugged.
“The invitations slid right in. Just a mishap.”
I looked at the dining table.
Then at the bucket.
The invitations had been placed in the middle.
Not near the edge.
Not even close.
“You were mopping?”
“Yes.”
“I told you I already mopped this morning.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Well, clearly you didn’t do a great job.”
