We then go to Juniper Creek. Assorted packs of children run by, and the occasional pregnant woman in prairie clothing waddles in their wake. Inside the main building, Alby is smacking around what can only be the office intern: "Why are you doing that? Never look me in the eyes when you address me!" Damn, the Devil wears Prairie. Then Alby heads into Roman's office. It turns out that he only got a cursory audit -- the accountant calls it "a digest of the numbers, not the numbers themselves." Roman says dismissively, "His wives call him a genius. He's no genius." Alby just stands there. Roman finally addresses him directly: "What I wanted was the exact audited numbers, with the accountant's opinion letter. I want to know exactly what's going on with both Home Plus stores." Alby just nods, uncomprehending.
Meanwhile, in the other room, Rhonda's singing along to "You're So Vain." Alby is riveted. It takes him a moment or two to tear his gaze away. It's not clear whether he's bug-eyed from covetous lust or trepidation. We see that Rhonda's biding her time by sketching pictures of puppies. Viva home schooling!
Back at Henrickson's homes plus, Bill is stoking the fires of suspicion by busting that classic move of cheating husbands everywhere: flowers for no reason. Nicki takes the pot of hydrangeas from Bill and asks, "What's this?" "Beautiful flowers for my beautiful wives," he replies. Oh, Bill. Why not just put on a t-shirt reading "ASK ME ABOUT MY AFFAIR"? Nicki tries to fish for why she happened to pass Bill on the road earlier that day, but fails to get anything.
Margene continues to take Barb's advice and unpacks a box in her living room. A black tank top with "Rock" on it is the first thing out. A carton of American Spirits comes next; Margene sniffs it, and goes into the type of flashback more often associated with madeleines. She then pulls out her high school yearbook and opens it up. We see that Margene was evidently well-liked enough to have garnered a lot of yearbook signatures. Margene keeps flipping through the pages and her face gets more drawn. The camera pulls back on the saddest sight of the episode: Margene sitting on the floor in her barren little living room, surrounded by four little cardboard boxes, all alone.
The next morning, a beautifully groomed Margene walks a bunch of boxes to the curb. I don't know what's more poignant: that's she's internalized all of Barb's advice, or that she's got the baby monitor dangling from her hip like a revolver. From across the street, Pam calls, "You've got your hands full!" Margene haltingly explains that she never really moved in, and she hates everything from before. Then remembering that conversations take two people, she asks what Pam's doing in the garage, and Pam says cheerily, "Don't just stand there! Come on over!" After a moment's hesitation, Margene does.