Grunter left. Pretty put the boys in the washer with other clothes. After drying they were in the basket, being carried to the living room when the doorbell rang.
"Mom?"
"It's me."
"Come in."
The boys were near the bottom, under most of the clothes, they could hardly hear. The basket was on the couch, between Mom and Pretty. They shared the job of folding, and as the clothes were removed above them, they heard more of the conversation.
"...home late again last night."
"How late?"
"After eleven."
"What was his excuse?"
"Playing racquetball with Frank. I'm sure he's lying."
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