Be My Neat-Heart by Judy Baer

that keep getting lost. And I would be stilettos just waiting to grind a heel into the top of Jared’s hiking boots.
    â€œWhy? I don’t get this, Molly. You’ll have to tell me why.”
    I had her alone for once. Jared was forced to tend to business in his own office while we painstakingly sorted through the jumble in Molly’s. “Your brother is a stalker. He’s been after us since the first day we started to work together. Doesn’t he trust me?”
    I don’t have much in the way of ego because I know that only God can take credit for whatever I might do right, but Jared is getting on my nerves, the few I have left. I’m going crazy being observed hour after hour by him as his sister and I try to make headway through Molly’s muddle.
    The woman is sweet, precious, generous, giving and completely without organizational skills. I don’t doubt for amoment that she has the intelligence to learn them, but she just doesn’t seem to care.
    Neatness is not even a blip on Molly’s radar screen of desires. For her it ranks right up there with wanting a root canal or ingrown toenails.
    Jared, on the other hand, thinks that a pile of magazines is an eyesore, a stack of papers on a desk an anathema and a disorganized office a deadly sin.
    And I thought I was exacting!
    â€œDon’t be too hard on him, Sammi. He’s doing what he thinks is best for me, that’s all.”
    â€œBut you’re a grown woman. Why can’t you do what’s best for you?” I sat back to study her and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Molly?”
    â€œJared’s right. I’m incompetent.”
    Unbidden anger flared in me. “He told you that?”
    â€œNo, but he thinks it. So whatever Jared wants, I’ll do.” She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “Anything.”
    Jared Hamilton had his poor sister hopping and dancing to his wishes like she was a marionette and he, a puppeteer.
    â€œHave you considered that Jared may have some issues of his own?” I ventured.
    â€œJared is a successful man, highly regarded in business,” Molly huffed. “He didn’t get here without careful planning and hard work. He has to be meticulous and exacting in order to be where he is.”
    â€œWhy do you defend him?” I asked gently.
    â€œBecause you can never imagine what he’s put up with from me. Never. I love him. He’s the best brother in the world.” And that was the end of that subject. Molly was willing to turn herself inside out to make her demanding brother happy.
    Because I’m the hired help, it doesn’t matter that I can’t see the reason why.
    Â 
    I groaned when the doorbell rang. Just out of the shower, I’d decided to test the self-adhering curlers that Wendy gave me. They were the size of soup cans and, Wendy said, perfect for creating a smooth, sophisticated hairdo. She’d also given me a facial mask, cucumber and seaweed, I think, or maybe it’s grass clippings and zucchini. I’d put foam separators between my toes so my pedicure could dry, whitening strips on my teeth and my softest, coziest and least flattering red-and-gray sweats. I glanced in the mirror. With all the bright colors and distorted features, I looked like some little kid’s worst nightmare, worse, even, than a clown doll, the kind that lurks in children’s closets and gives them scary dreams.
    I shuffled toward the door, keeping my toes wide spread and my neck stiff so as not to upset the precarious pyramid of rollers. Not only was my face beginning to harden, my teeth squeaked and the facial mask was beginning to smell very earthy. Not flower petals and fresh breezes earthy, either. More like barnyard-and-compost-heap earthy. Wendy must have bought all this stuff on sale.
    â€œWho is it?” I inquired at the door, but my mouth wasn’t moving well because of the rock-hard mask. I was