This one wasn’t for her either, Laura thought. Who picks your dates? Blond again. Thin, but not as bony as the anorexic one had been. Watching her throw her head back as she laughed…nauseating.

Oh? What was that? Margarita?

She couldn’t stand it any longer. She snatched up the binoculars, focusing on the new blonde. Okay…pretty cute, although she’d bet a hundred dollars that blond wasn’t her natural color. Early thirties, maybe. She looked at the other two. They appeared to be a little older. Then she found Cassidy. She was smiling. She was chatting. It looked forced. Then Cassidy stood and pulled her T-shirt off. Not a bikini, but a black one-piece again. Oddly disappointed that it wasn’t a bikini, Laura lowered the glasses, just in time to see Cassidy look her way.

She ducked down below the windowsill. God, did the woman have a sixth sense or what? That’s the second time she’d almost gotten caught.

“You have got to stop with the damn binoculars.”

A margarita sounded good, though. Pity she had no tequila. She leaned against the wall with a sigh. How sad was it that her sole entertainment was spying on her neighbor? Maybe next weekend, she’d plan a trip to the city. Surely she could find someone to have dinner with. Or she could pop over to Carla’s house, see the kids, talk Carla into springing for dinner. She thought her mother might actually like to have the house to herself for a night. Yeah…maybe that’s what she’d do. Of course, that meant she’d have to tolerate the twins. Was it worth it?

She sat there for a while longer, twirling her hair in her fingers. She had thick, unruly hair, not thin and silky like the women at the pool. Maybe she should go blond. They seemed to be having much more fun than she was. Then she remembered when she was in her twenties and the hair color episode from hell. He assured her it would be a beautiful, light blond. It would look great on her, he’d said. Nope. Ronald McDonald red on the first try. Orange when he tried a second time. And then a shocking off-white was the last result as he attempted to “tame” the color. Her hair was so frazzled, she was afraid to touch it for fear it would break off.

She sighed. Maybe she’d stick with her natural color. Nothing exciting about light brown, but it wasn’t all that bad. She ran a hand through it. She could stand to have a trim, though. Maybe she’d do that on Monday.

* * *