She shook out the dark garment, revealing a pair of men’s trousers. Tonya opened the dryer door below and tossed the pants inside. She then pulled out the bunched white fabric. The texture of the collar’s terry-cloth lining told her it wasn’t a normal garment before it unraveled to reveal the embroidered Banque Gauche logo and cursive Philip Banks beneath.

Philip’s chef jacket needed another go-round. Rust-colored flecks, no doubt from some splattered sauce, dotted the jacket’s right sleeve and chest. Tonya spread it on top of the washer and then gathered the clothes that she’d dropped by her feet. She tossed them inside, grabbed the detergent off the narrow shelves crammed beside the machines, and squirted some into the bottle’s cap.

She was figuring out where to pour it into the machine when she heard another door crack, followed by a slam. Tonya listened for some sign of who had entered the house. It was too early for the kids to return from school, which meant either Philip had come back from wherever he’d gone earlier or Imani was home from work.

Keys hit a counter below. Footsteps approached the stairs. Their lightness indicated that they belonged to a woman.

Tonya figured out the location of the soap tray and, with the speed of shame, filled it and started the cycle. She started toward the stairs before realizing that footsteps were already on the lower staircase. They would reach the landing before Tonya could escape to her floor. Imani would find her just outside the master bedroom, a pedestrian caught in the crosswalk as the light changed.

She retreated to the laundry area. As Imani appeared, Tonya grabbed Philip’s jacket and a spray bottle of stain remover. Helping remove the spots on Philip’s laundry would justify her throwing in her clothes instead of rerunning the load that had already claimed the machine.

Imani noticed her immediately. Her chin retreated into her neck before she adjusted her posture to something more welcoming. “Hello, Tonya.”

“Philip said it would be fine if I put in a load. I hope that’s okay.”

Imani’s stance stiffened, but she didn’t object. Instead, she pointed to the jacket in her hand. “Is that Philip’s?”

“It had a few stains on it,” Tonya said. “Figured I’d spray them and let it soak.”

The invisible screws at the edges of Imani’s tight mouth rotated another turn right. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

Tonya lay the garment atop the washer. “I was trying to be helpful.”

The vein throbbing in Imani’s thin neck belied her cheery tone. “I mean, you don’t have to do our laundry. I hope Philip didn’t make you feel like you should.”

“Not at all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Imani marched over, as if to inspect the jacket. “I’ll deal with my husband’s clothes.”