“You rotten shit. Get out…” Maggie Sullivan grunted as she swung the broom, chasing an irritated raccoon through the kitchen. Not that she expected it to listen, but the destruction the overgrown rodent or mammal or whatever it was had caused in the few hours she’d been gone had her cringing. She would get her sister back for taking the kids and leaving. Even if Grace hadn’t know about the hidden cretin. The raccoon jumped on the couch and scattered cushions before jumping to the coffee table and back to the floor in a flurry of magazines. “Arrrggh.” Maggie thought of herself as a calm woman, but she teetered on violence. She’d spent the morning in her office—was nowhere near finished with the website she’d been contracted for—and had several more hours of work still to do. Now was not the time for Jared to resume his childish pranks. She closed in on the raccoon and lifted the broom to swat at it. I feel like a rodeo clown chasing a bull out of the arena. At least they don’t have to clean a mess afterward.
