DOUBLE KNOT by Gretchen Archer

food disappeared
     and we sat around a white table full of dirty dishes.
    Mother stood and pushed her chair in. “We’re going to make the best of this situation
     and have a lovely day by the pool.” Then she passed out marching orders. She started
     on her left. Jessica. “Young lady, get some clothes on.” Next was Poppy. “I guess
     you do whatever it is you’re supposed to do, then you’re welcome to join us.” She
     got to Burnsworth. “I don’t believe in mixed bathing. No offense.” He surrendered—none
     taken. Then me and Fantasy. “You two do the dishes.”
    “Why do we have to do the dishes?”
    “We’re splitting the kitchen chores, Fantasy. I cooked; you and Davis can clean.”
    Fantasy opened her mouth to protest and I cut her off. “It’s fine, Mother. We’ll do
     the dishes.”
    “Lunch is at twelve sharp by the pool. I’ve made us a nice chef salad,” Mother said.
     “I’ll see you all at the pool. Except you,” she said to Burnsworth. “But you’re welcome
     to join us for lunch.”
    Fantasy waited to kill me until everyone else left the kitchen.
    I looked around to make certain we were alone. “Someone took the knives! Every knife
     in the kitchen!”
    “I know! It was me , Davis! I took the knives!”

NINE

      
    We couldn’t find the dishwasher.
    “If I’d known it was you who took the knives I would’ve fought the dish fight harder.”
     I was under the kitchen island.
    “You didn’t fight it at all. And how was I supposed to tell you in a room full of
     people?” She was under the sink. “Was I supposed to butter a biscuit and say, ‘Oh,
     by the way, Davis. I hid the knives so these people won’t stab us’?”
    “Did you hide the dishwasher too?”
    We looked in the least likely places, having struck out in the most likely. I looked
     inside the cabinets while she pulled open the warming drawers between the wall ovens.
     I looked in the skinny cabinet to the right of the refrigerator while she disappeared
     into the walk-in pantry. “I found an herb garden,” she called out. “How can I find
     an herb garden and not find a dishwasher?”
    It had been twenty minutes on the dishwasher search already—wasted precious time,
     considering we’d been ordered to the pool and I knew better than to keep Mother waiting.
     It wasn’t that I was in such a hurry to get there and act like (I wasn’t pregnant)
     nothing was wrong, it was that I had way bigger and better things to worry about than
     the dishes. Not to mention I had to find something to wear to the pool. I didn’t own
     any poolside fashion for the truly expectant.
    “We need a bucket,” Fantasy said.
    “A what?”
    “A big basket. A big container. Something we can fit these dishes in.”
    “And then what?”
    “We hide them until we find the dishwasher.”
    “Let’s just wash the dishes in the sink, Fantasy, with Dawn, like people do.”
    “Yeah? Where’s the Dawn?”
    Another thing we couldn’t find—a drop of dish soap.
    We stared at the tall stacks of dirty white plates, serving bowls, coffee cups, silverware,
     and greasy skillets.
    “Would a tote bag work?” I asked. “I might have a tote bag.”
    She snapped her fingers and shot out the kitchen door. She was back in a flash. She
     popped open a Louis Vuitton bandoulière, held it against the edge of the kitchen counter
     with one arm, then wrapped a crooked arm around the plates and slid them into the
     bag. They did not go quietly. “What the hell are you doing, Fantasy?”
    She stopped. Dead cold. “The dishes.”
    We peeked out the kitchen door, right and left, the $3,000 Louis between us. We didn’t
     see a soul, so we made a mad dash to my room. We closed the door behind us and fell
     against it.
    “Good news.” She nodded to the pile of clothes and loose scattered jewelry, probably
     a million dollars’ worth, she’d dumped out of the Louis Vuitton and onto the floor
     of the sitting room. “I found you a