“Hi, guys. Sorry to whine. What can I say? The woman is hell to work for. But I’ve got to look on the plus side, right? At least she underpays me.”

“So what do you think?” he asked, gesturing around the bathroom.

“It’s great,” I said.

“Look at this linen closet.” Colin opened a closet that ran a full wall’s length.

Pam whistled softly. “The rich not only get richer; they get closet space, too.”

“Well, I’m going downstairs,” Colin said. “After my Great Toilet Paper Hunt, I need a margarita.”

“Speaking of margaritas, what’s with Rochelle?” Pam asked. “She’s tanked already, and she hardly ever drinks.”

“I don’t know. She was fine when Marybeth and I were here earlier today. Her usual compulsive hostess self. Running around asking the plumbers if she could bring them some fresh-squeezed lemonade. But when I came back about a half-hour ago, she was sloshed.”

“Maybe she finally cracked under the stress of remodeling,” I suggested.

“Who knows?” Colin said. “All I know is I need that margarita. You gals coming?”

“Nah,” Pam said. “I want to stay and snoop in their medicine cabinets.”

“Rochelle’s is boring,” Colin said. “But check Marty’s out.”

With a weary wave, he headed back downstairs, and Pam began rummaging through the medicine cabinets.

“Pam, do you think we should be doing this?”

“Of course not. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Colin was right. There was nothing exciting in Rochelle’s medicine cabinet. Just your run-of-the-mill over the counter cold meds. But when Pam opened Marty’s, her eyes widened.

“Look at this,” she said, taking out a prescription vial. “Viagra!”

I remembered what Rochelle had said about her husband, that he was cold and distant and coming home at all hours.

A cynical voice came from the doorway.

“Whoever he’s using that stuff with sure as hell isn’t Rochelle.”

We turned to see Doris, the club’s senior member.

How embarrassing. She’d obviously seen us snooping.

“Um…I had something stuck in my teeth,” I stammered, “and we were just looking for some floss.”

“Oh, please,” Doris said, brushing away my lie. “We all snoop in other people’s medicine cabinets. It’s human nature.”

She checked herself out in the mirror over the his ’n hers sinks.

“Great lighting. I don’t look a day over fifty-nine.”

Then she plopped herself down on the edge of the enormous tub.

“Poor Rochelle,” she sighed. “I’m sure Marty’s cheating on her. At least she can console herself with a nice jacuzzi bath.” She looked around the room appraisingly. “What a palace. I wish I’d had his ’n hers sinks when I was married. You wouldn’t believe the disgusting stuff my husband used to leave in the sink.”

“I’d believe it,” I said, remembering The Blob’s delightful habit of leaving his toenail clippings in ours.