“Colin told me she left you money in her will,” I said. “That has to count for something.”

“Ten grand. Big deal. She knew how much I was hurting. She left millions to relatives she hadn’t seen in years, and I got ten grand. That’ll barely pay the pool man. But I forgot. I don’t have a pool man any more, do I?”

She laughed bitterly.

“You want to hear something funny? Back in college, I was the successful one, the one everybody said was going to go places, not Marybeth. She was a nobody. Barely managed to graduate. And you should’ve seen her back then—before her nose job, and her $500 highlights. You wouldn’t have looked at her twice.”

She stared down into her empty gin glass.

“But then everything changed. Marybeth was the one who went out and conquered the world. And me? I didn’t live up to my promise. All I did was marry well. And then, not so well after all, huh?”

She looked up at me, her eyes hard and bitter. The bighearted, fun-loving gal I’d known at the PMS Club had vanished. Underneath that happy-go-lucky exterior, Ashley was a very angry woman.

I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t too late, that she could still make something of her life, that all she had to do was sober up, and sooner or later she’d find a decent job and maybe even a decent guy. I wanted to tell her all that, but I didn’t get a chance, because just then the doorbell rang.

“Get that for me, will ya, hon?” she said. “I got a headache.”

I left her lying on the sofa, cradling the bottle of gin in her arms, and answered the door.

A burly guy with a clipboard was standing outside. Behind him I could see a tow truck with the logo “Ace Reliable” emblazoned on its side.

“You Ashley Morgan?” he asked, consulting his clipboard.

“No, I’m afraid she’s not feeling very well.”

“I’m here to repo her Jag. Either she makes it easy and gives me the key. Or I jimmy the lock and tow it without the key.”

“Sorry, pal, I’m not giving you the key.” Ashley staggered into the foyer, clutching her bottle of gin. “You’re gonna have to work for your money.”

Mr. Reliable shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, lady. I get paid by the hour.”

He went over to his tow truck and pulled out a crowbar.

“Screw you!” Ashley shouted out to his beefy back. Then she polished off the last of the gin and slammed the door shut.

“My beautiful Jag,” she moaned. “I can’t bear to watch.”