Easing herself out of bed, she crept out of the bedroom into the second full bathroom and got ready for work. She had only the basic makeup essentials, but a different blouse. No one would guess and she wasn’t telling where she had spent the night. Her roommates were her friends. Her workmates? Questionable, sometimes copasetic, sometimes not.

Heidi pushed herself back from the table before she realized she had nowhere to go. The yacht was big, but they were in the middle of the Med. While she was dining a deux, Olaf’s other friends were occupied elsewhere with nubile creatures in what could be called bikinis if one were stretching it, and Heidi wished they would.

She had done the right thing, she thought to herself. Or at least the wise thing. When she considered it further, couples don’t live in a vacuum.

Let’s face it, I have a body that no designer would love. Furthermore, no designer designs for it. I am of peasant stock. Perky breasts now droop, my 22-inch waist decided it was too small for my hips. To sum up, I’m dumpy.

Right now the weekends were really her only time to relax because the guys were all over the house during the week, and she had to get her own work done. She wanted to use the kitchen table, which was one of those old oak round tables with the claw feet. But the guys thought nothing of coming in for water or their lunch in the refrigerator or whatever. She could close the kitchen door, but that would be rude.

How humiliating! Her younger sister was engaged. Where did that leave Riley? Just two words seemed to fit: Old Maid! The card game they played as kids was obviously prophetic.

When she was younger, she knew what her purpose was, to be a good wife and an excellent mother, but not a smother-mother. It seems she had succeeded in the latter even if she had failed in the former. No. Wait. She had been a good wife.

So, another year has come and gone and I have to say—so what?

Eden was relieved when she hung up. One thing she didn’t want to talk about was Steve’s parents.

They both had secrets to keep. His was from his mother. While his mother always said she wanted her children to go their own way, she wasn’t subtle about making suggestions when she felt they weren’t hewing to the course she had set out for them. What would she say if she knew Lily was staying with him? He’d rather not find out. He only hoped that she didn’t decide to get into the car and drive over here.

When I married my Israeli husband so many years ago, I had a feeling that would be the end of the Christmas tree for me. Saving the forest one Hanukkah candle at a time? But Christmas trees were part of my youth. A festive part? Let’s not go there. Yet.

She didn’t think Steve was into mysticism either, at least judging from his apartment. It was situated in a Georgetown brick building with three other condos and looked so charming on the outside. Inside, it was like the deck on a starship.

Finally, her contest-entering had paid off; and she won an all-expense-paid cruise of the Mediterranean. All-expense didn’t include airfare to Athens or “spirits,” which she assumed meant anything good to drink.

Her first month as Dr. Wu’s executive assistant had been rough because she had to set down ground rules. Like he asked her to bring him a cup of coffee. Hell no. She told him it was self serve. Then it was a request to pick up his dry cleaning. Really? “I’m sorry. That’s an impossibility.” When he asked her why, she told him, “It’s inappropriate and could get us both into trouble.” She thought that was diplomatic enough.

Not that she was a suspicious person, knock wood, but all her children seemed to be happy. At the moment. This was unheard of, so Bernice knew something was going on. But with which one of them? Or—all?

After last night, when the cops were called once again, there was no way Lily Stanton could stay in that house for another minute.

How apropos, Eden thought. An invitation to an opening at Glazé Galleria. Most likely all connected with the Renwick’s latest display of ceramics for which she got partial credit—and blame for that allegedly broken piece.

Heart attacks. Were they in fashion with men? Look at Jerry. Despite the whispers, bondage was all his idea. She was to be his dominatrix. Black mask and all. At least no whip. All she really had to do was tell him he was a bad boy as she tied him to the bed.

She was surprised that her son had bought a house. Was there something going on that she didn’t know about? Most likely. The kids shared only what they wanted to. Maybe the house would be a project for Frank, make him less stressed about being a lawyer—from which he was making a good living and thus could afford a house.

Another dissatisfied customer. Riley made a note to herself to call Simon in and see his side of the story. Maybe it wasn’t too late to become a lab technician or an insurance adjuster or, well—anything?