And everybody did. The room erupted in cheers and applause while Lucy slipped out the back. She wasn’t the only one. As she left the brightly lit lobby and crossed the dim parking lot she thought she saw Frankie moving through the parked cars, but when she called out to her there was no response. She must have been mistaken, she decided, heading for home.

The newscaster was announcing the Dow had dropped one hundred eighty points and was at an eighteen-month low and Lucy was worrying about the kids’ college fund, which she hoped her financial adviser had invested prudently, while she pedaled steadily on her exercycle in the family room. She had recently started riding the exercycle for twenty minutes every morning as a way of warming up for her half-hour workout with Debbie, the blond and tanned exercise entrepreneur who came to her house at seven a.m. via the cable TV. “There’s no need to go to a gym,” Debbie said, “when you can work out with me every morning in the privacy of your own home.”

And even though Lucy thought Debbie had the brain of a pea, she had to admit she felt a lot better since she’d been doing the workout. And, as Debbie never failed to remind her, it was better to exercise in the morning before getting caught up in the day’s activities. “If you wait until after supper, you’ll be too tired,” Debbie said, and Lucy knew it was true. The most she could manage then was a short walk, or a game of ball with the dog.

“Mom!” came a cry from the kitchen. “Libby’s throwing up.”

Lucy dismounted from the exercycle, wondering if she’d brought this on by thinking of the dog. Did it work like that? If she’d thought of the toaster, for example, would it burst into flames? Or the cesspool. Would it overflow if she thought about it? Was it better, as Debbie advised, to think happy thoughts? Would her life be perfect then?

In the kitchen, she discovered Libby standing over a pile of soggy dog kibble, apparently trying to decide if it would go down better the second time.

“No!” ordered Lucy, opening the door and shooing her outside. Reluctantly, tail between her legs, the dog obeyed. Lucy grabbed some paper towels and started cleaning up the mess. Instead of dwelling on the loathsome dietary habits of dogs, or the possibility that something was seriously the matter with Libby, Lucy decided to take Debbie’s advice and think positively. In cleaning up the mess, she told herself, she was maintaining a hygienic, healthy environment for her family. She was beautifying the house. And really, didn’t the cleaner bring up the grain on the wooden floor beautifully? It looked so nice, in fact, that she gave the entire kitchen floor a wipe.