Back from the break, Claire and hubby are sitting in the parlor with Nick and Marcus. Claire lies smoothly about the contractor leaving her house to go to the hospital, or possibly another client. Her husband suggests the concussed fellow could have passed out somewhere. Nick looks suspicious, for no real reason. I mean, it's not like he can smell the blood on Claire's breath. He assily asks, "Are you a doctor, Mr. Radcliff?" "No, but I've got plenty working for me," he says, in his biotech company. Nick, without much sincerity, assures them things will turn out fine. After the coppers have gone, Claire and hubby go to the wine room to have a look at the corpse chilling out in the fridge. "We had an agreement," Dylan says, because that's the husband's name even though they haven't said it yet. Claire is chastised. Dylan paces, and fears their adopted daughter wouldn't survive with "their crowd" should they be forced to leave The Gates. Claire apologizes. Dylan stomps off.

In town, Sarah Monohan is having a stroll down Main Street when she notices a little shop called Devon Day Spa. She wanders in and has a sniff of some herb that a helpful woman announces is wolfsbane, toxic to some and harmless to others. The woman, who looks like she just stepped out of a Danielle Steel novel, introduces herself as Devon. Sarah says she's on her way to Peg's, but Devon lures her in with promises of teas for half Peg's price.