Chapter 9 · Continued
Normal Parameters
By late afternoon, the meeting finally ended.
Jane escaped her desk like a hostage negotiator leaving a crisis scene.
As she passed the bedroom, she noticed the laundry basket sitting neatly on the bed.
Everything had been folded.
Towels were stacked.
Shirts were organized.
Socks were paired with unsettling precision.
Cam sat in the living room reading something on his tablet.
Jane smiled faintly. “Okay, that’s actually impressive.”
He didn’t respond.
He probably hadn’t heard her.
Jane went into the kitchen for more coffee and opened the cabinet.
Her favorite mug was missing.
“Huh.”
Then she noticed it sitting in the sink beside several dirty dishes.
Jane frowned.
Wait.
If the dishwasher had been running earlier…
Slowly and cautiously, she opened the dishwasher.
Then she froze.
“…What the hell?”
Bras, panties, and other delicates were neatly arranged across the racks like some deeply unsettling lingerie-appliance showroom.
Steam drifted upward.
Several brightly colored items now looked suspiciously pale.
Using two fingers, Jane picked up one pair as though it might explode.
“Well,” she said blankly. “…Shit.”
She stared into the dishwasher for another moment.
Then she raised her voice.
“CAM?”
“Yes, Jane?” he answered from the living room.
“Why is my underwear in the dishwasher?”
Cam immediately entered the kitchen.
Jane turned toward him, still holding the underwear like courtroom evidence.
“Why,” she asked carefully, “is this in the dishwasher?”
Cam examined the open appliance, the underwear in her hand, and then Jane.
“The items required sanitization.”
She blinked. “No, they did not.”
“The washing machine’s water temperature was insufficient for optimal bacterial reduction.”
Jane stared at him. “Cam, this is not a hospital.”
“Cross-contamination risk remains low at high temperatures.”
“That is not helping your case.”
Cam looked toward the dishwasher. “I also separated the fabrics according to thermal durability.”
Jane looked inside again.
He had.
Of course he had.
Everything was arranged by material and color as though an extremely determined raccoon scientist had taken control of her kitchen.
Jane dragged one hand down her face.
“Cam… honey…”
The word escaped accidentally.
Jane noticed.
So did Cam.
She pushed forward anyway.
“You cannot wash underwear in the dishwasher.”
Cam processed the instruction. “Clarification accepted.”
“And now half of it is bleached.”
His projected expression shifted toward concern. “That outcome was not intentional.”
“No kidding.”
After a brief pause, Cam added, “I can order replacement garments if desired.”
Jane stared at him for two seconds.
Then she laughed so hard that she had to lean against the counter.
Cam watched quietly. “I am uncertain why this is humorous.”