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"What's the plan?" Barbie asks, pouring a stream of milk into her cup of coffee and then reaching for the sugar. "Are we just cleaning anything in sight?"

Jude clears her throat. She's standing at the sink with her back to the table, washing her hands. "I'm taking Maxine and Wendy to the park," she says. "But I feel bad leaving you all to do the heavy lifting while I push a baby on the swings."

Jo waves a hand. "Not a problem. We have enough of a team here to get things done. Let's divide and conquer." Jo pulls a small notebook and pen from her purse and flips open the cover to a fresh page. "Barbie, do you want to take the kitchen?"

"Sure thing."

"Okay," Jo says, scribbling on the page. "Frankie, how do you feel about the bathrooms?" She winces slightly, anticipating that this will not thrill her friend.

Frankie sighs and motions to the jeans and the plain white men's t-shirt she's wearing. "I'm dressed like a lumberjack for a reason: I'm ready to get dirty."

Carrie dips a tea bag into her hot water. "Where do you want me, boss?"

"How about dusting, vacuuming, and bringing me all the bedsheets and laundry?" Jo writes something on the page. "Which means I'm on laundry duty. I'm a whiz at ironing, mending, and getting everything ready to go back in drawers and closets."

Jude turns around as she's drying her hands on a dishtowel. "What about Derek's stuff?" she asks. All conversation and movement halts.

"Yikes," Barbie says. She looks pained at the thought. In fact, they all do. Imagining having to deal with the laundry, the toothbrush, the shaving kit, all of the stuff that a husband would leave behind if he'd gone to work one day and never come home--it was horrific to even contemplate.

"Bring it to me," Jo says decisively. "We're going on a month here since the accident. If she hasn't washed his clothing yet, then it's time, and we'll get her life in order. We won't throw anything away. If she's still got his bathroom items out, perhaps we could tuck them into a medicine cabinet. We'll do our best not to move photos, books from his nightstand, reading glasses--anything. That's up to Maxine. But the laundry needs to be washed."

Once their cups are rinsed and sitting on Jude's drain board, they go next door so that she can collect Maxine and Wendy and take them away. The moment their car is out of the driveway, the other four women stand in the middle of the living room and look at one another grimly.

"The Christmas stuff," Frankie says glumly. "I wasn't expecting that."

"She must have put up the tree for the kids' sake," Carrie whispers, reaching out to touch the dried branches. Needles fall from the spindly tree and land on the floor. "But it's a fire hazard now, and definitely an eyesore. This needs to go."

Jo puts her hands on her hips as she surveys the room. "Let's get to work here, shall we?"

And so they do. No one puts a record on the turntable, and when the house phone rings, they all studiously ignore it. There is work to be done, and they want Maxine Trager to return to a clean house with her little girl. By the time Ryan gets home from middle school, they want to be packed up and out the door so that what remains of the Trager family can reassemble in a clean house, be together without worrying about things like dishes and laundry, and look ahead to what their future holds.

* * *

"Josephine?" Bill calls as he enters the house that evening. "Jo, are you here?"

Jo, who spent nearly four hours at Maxine's house, laundering and ironing clothing--including the bedsheets and pillowcases--is in her daughter Nancy's bedroom, crouched down on her knees next to the bookshelf. They are going through Nancy's large book collection and choosing the ones she might be willing to donate to the pediatric wing of Stardust Beach General Hospital.

"Hold on, sweetheart," Jo says, running a hand over Nancy's head before pushing herself up to a standing position. Nancy glances up at her mother, but then turns back to the books, rediscovering old favorites that she's forgotten about.

"I'm here," Jo calls out as she pads down the hallway and into the open front room. Bill is standing there, briefcase in hand. "What's going on?"

"I tried calling you today," he says. It's not accusatory, but there's definitely a question there. "I didn't think you had a shift at the hospital or anything."

Jo tries to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "I was at Maxine Trager's with the other wives. We cleaned her house from top to bottom while Jude took her to the park with Wendy. We thought it would be a nice thing to do."

"Oh." Bill nods, setting his briefcase down. "Well, that is a nice thing you all did. I'm sure she appreciates it."

Jo leans her hip against the back of the couch and folds her arms across her chest as she looks up at her husband. "Actually, we were thinking maybe the men could do some things with Maxine's son, Ryan. Like, next time you and Jimmy go out and toss a ball around, maybe you could invite Ryan to join in? Stuff like that."

Bill looks tired. "Sure," he says, nodding. "We could do that. Might be a good thing to do for the boy."

They stand there for a moment and then Jo remembers the lasagna in the oven. She pushes away from the couch and rushes to the kitchen, grabbing two potholders as she flings open the oven. The cheese is bubbling, and the pasta sauce looks like it's about to boil. She slides the glass dish out and sets it on a trivet on the counter.

"Hey." Bill has followed her into the kitchen and he stands in the doorway, rolling up his shirtsleeves. "Jojo."

Jo turns just her head to glance in his direction as she digs through the drawer for a spatula to cut and scoop out servings of the hot pasta. "Yes?"

"I want to read your stories."