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“It’s not wasted,” I assured her. “In fact we might take you up on it. If Charlene turns out to be a secret cat hater, we won’t have any other recourse but to adjust to life on the street.”

“We could always go and live with Wilbur and Kingman,” Dooley suggested.

“I don’t think Wilbur would agree to take in another four cats,” I said.

“Oh, you bunch of crybabies,” Clarice growled. “Look around! There’s plenty of people who’ll take you. In fact the world is filled with people who want nothing more than to coddle and spoil you rotten. Just put an ad in the paper—or better yet, post something on Facebook and you’ll have people clamoring to adopt you.”

“You think?” said Dooley, blinking excitedly. “That’s great news, Clarice!”

“Get out of here,” said Clarice with a throwaway gesture of her paw. “You guys make me sick. Just get lost already. Go on, get!”

“But Clarice,” said Dooley. “You have to tell us more about these Facebook people.”

“For crying out loud,” she grumbled, stalking off in the direction of the next dumpster. “Talk about a couple of namby-pamby cats wasting my precious time.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see you later, Clarice,” I said.

But she’d already jumped into the dumpster, and judging from the sounds of a feverish scuffle, was probably in the process of catching herself another juicy rat.

“Thanks for the advice, Clarice!” Dooley shouted, and then we were on our way again. “We have to do this, Max,” he said as we wended our way home again. “We have to put a post on Facebook, saying we’re looking for a new home.”

“Let’s do that first chance we get,” I agreed.

“Harriet will know what to do. She’s a social media maven. If Clarice is right, we’ll have a new home in no time. And maybe this one won’t be as noisy and polluted with annoying guests as the last.”

And on this hopeful note, we commenced our trek back.

CHAPTER 18

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Vesta stood looking at the remnants of the garden house with a big frown on her face.“Before you knocked down this thing you could have thought about removing my gardening tools first,” she said.

“I know. I didn’t think,” said her son-in-law as he gave her a rueful look.

“It’s fine. The lawnmower took a hit but he’s a sturdy old sucker so he’ll live. Now we need to get going on that wall over there. I suggest you take out the center piece first, then gradually work your way to Ted and Marcie’s hedge.”

“I’m not taking out that wall. Are you crazy? Blake Carrington will sue me.”

“No, he won’t. I told you, Blake will only be too happy that finally this worthless piece of land is going to be put to good use. And you can split the proceeds of the spa once things get going well. And trust me: people are gonna come from all over town to take a dip in the Poole pool.” She grinned. “Thought of that myself.”

“Vesta—“

“We’ve got a gold mine here, Tex, so let’s cut the chitchat and get cracking.”

But instead of putting his sledgehammer to good use, Tex crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her a mutinous look. It was a look she was accustomed to.

“What is it now?” she said, trying to dredge up some much-needed patience from the depths of her being. She’d known from the start that living with Tex Poole wouldn’t be easy, and she’d resigned herself to always be kind and take his weird quirks and peccadillos in stride, like a good mother-in-law must. She didn’t suffer fools gladly but this was one fool she had to tolerate, for Marge’s sake. But if he was going to stand in the way of progress, he had another thing coming.

“I’m not building a spa, Vesta. I’m building a second bathroom.”

“Oh, not again with the bathroom, Tex. You’re starting to sound like a broken record. Just put your back into it and get smashing. Just imagine you’re the Incredible Hulk or something. Hulk smash!”

But Tex wasn’t budging. So Vesta did the only sensible thing: she took a firm hold of that sledgehammer and dragged it over to the separating wall.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” she grumbled as she tried to lift the thing. It was a lot heavier than she thought, and the moment she’d managed to hold it over her head, she toppled backward and fell on her tush. “Darn it.”

“I don’t know why you insist on building a spa,” said Tex, helping her to her feet. “We don’t have the space or the permission, and we certainly don’t have the expertise to build or run a spa. Nor do I want to run a spa, and neither does Marge.”

“Well, I want to run a spa,” said Vesta stubbornly. “There’s a lot of money in wellness, Tex, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed, all right, but it’s not a business I want to get into. I’m a doctor, and Marge is a librarian, and we’re both perfectly happy doing what we do.”

“Okay, fine. So I’ll build the spa, and I’ll run it all by my lonesome.”

“You can’t build and run a spa, Vesta.”