Next to Amelia’s keyboard, I noticed an exquisite pot of lip gloss. I opened the small gold jar to discover that it was fire-engine red. Amelia was a little old for such a bright color; it would make her look harsh. It was actually a better color for me. I applied a dab to my lips and returned the jar to its original spot. Next to her desk on the floor, a Post-it was stuck on top of an Asics shoebox with the word return scribbled on it. I looked inside and saw a pair of expensive running shoes. Before leaving the office, I examined the scene to make certain everything was returned to its original location. Then I turned out the lights.

I’d been dreaming about the Straubs’ master suite for two days, anticipating my opportunity for exploration. The moment I walked in, I felt a thrill. It was the intimacy of being in their bedroom, deep inside their lives. Swimming in the pool of their merged identities—woven into their larger family identity. The bedroom looked out over a patio and the backyard. Underneath grand casement windows trimmed with brass hardware, a built-in window seat extended the width of the room. Crisp white molding set off the ivory walls. The duvet resembled a watercolor, as did the silk rug. In Amelia’s closet and dressing room, the quality of the custom millwork equaled that of their kitchen cabinetry. Many thousands of dollars in clothing resided there.

It was the master bath that captivated me above all else. The photos I’d seen did not allow the eye to appreciate how each layer informed the other layers. It was a stunning vision of glazed silver floors, a polished stone vanity, large dramatic sconces, a spacious marble-lined shower with a rain showerhead, mosaic tile flooring, and an overscaled egg-shaped resin tub.

I approached the vanity and the built-in magnifying mirror attached to the wall in order to study my reflection: golden hair framing a youthful complexion and shiny red lips. It was not until last year, when I turned thirty-five, that I noticed a few fine lines in my forehead and, even then, only if I looked closely. In one of the top drawers of the vanity, I found several beautifully packaged skin creams, along with a thirty-dollar mascara, a seventy-dollar concealer, and a pair of tweezers that I used to remove several stray eyebrow hairs.

When finished at the mirror, I turned to take in the magnificence of the bathtub. I’d never bathed in such a tub. I considered how much time I had. It was 10 P.M. The Straubs definitely wouldn’t return home before eleven, and Amelia had indicated it would be later. If I were to take a bath, I’d have at least an hour before I’d have to worry about their arrival.