Close scrutiny by Elaine Menge from the October 2016 edition of the Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine.

Greta reached for the margarita on the low table beside her lounge chair and took a long sip.

What a beautiful morning.

For many weeks she'd yearned to be out here, clad in her dark blue floral bathing suit,

lying in this very spot, enjoying the mild May weather while sipping a drink and generally blanking

out. How wonderful to hear the babbling brook sounds of the swimming pool's stepped fountain

instead of the incessant, deadly hum of Milton's oxygen machine.

She set the tumbler down and stretched her body, tensing her calves while pointing her toes,

lifting and straining her arms as high as she could above her head. That uninhibited stretching

movement gave her a little thrill. Hard to believe she could actually feel free,

even sexy again, after the grueling six months of Milton's illness. She took another sip,

then remembered the close inspection she'd planned to give her face. From the low table beside her,

she lifted the round, plastic-handled mirror she'd brought outside for that purpose

and held it up. Not bad for a dame of 55, she thought. Her curly black hair, cut in a short

bob swept back from her forehead, was as bouncy and perky as ever. But her face betrayed a certain

weariness, most evident in her eyes.

Understandable.

The skin beneath them was slightly darker than she liked.

The wrinkles in her forehead a bit more evident than they'd been a year ago.

Nothing that some Botox and facial filler couldn't handle.

With a little work, she'd pass for late 30s again.

Even so, she didn't feel inclined to twirl the

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