13. Special Delivery
Blond Sharon is at home preparing ham and cheese sandwiches on an assembly line for her son, Robert, and the friends he’s invited over to swim in the pool when there’s a knock at the door. Sharon peers through the window and sees a gorgeous vintage Land Rover idling in the driveway. Even Sharon’s soon-to-be ex, who likes to snark about all the Land Rovers on Nantucket (“Explain what a car designed to be driven on the African savanna is doing on an island thirty miles offshore”), would have to admit it’s a good-looking car.
Standing on the porch is a young woman holding out a pink envelope. “My employers, the Richardsons, are hosting a party on Saturday, and they’d love for you to join them.”
Gah!Sharon thinks. The Richardsons? She accepts the invitation thinking, These Richardsons are certainly shaking up the status quo. Who hand-delivers invitations? Sharon can think of no one but the royal family. And yet it’s a nice touch and, in Sharon’s case, a welcome one. She and Walker used to find their mailbox stuffed with invitations to cocktail parties and benefits; in more recent years, invitations came via Paperless Post or Mint. But so far this summer, even those have been lacking. Sharon has tried not to wonder if she’s been taken off people’s lists because of her impending divorce. Are her married friends gathering without telling her, rationalizing it as “giving her space” when really they’re just afraid that divorce is a contagious disease?
At least the Richardsons aren’t put off by her newly single status.
“Thank you,” Sharon says to the young woman. “I’ll check my calendar and RSVP.” She notices the woman’s short, punk-rock haircut. It’s the girl from her character study, Sharon thinks. Coco!
When Coco strides back to the Rover, Sharon notices someone riding shotgun—Kacy Kapenash. Ha-ha-ha! They’ve become friends! That story had a happy ending, but of course no one in Sharon’s creative-writing class wants a happy ending; they want conflict, drama, nuance.
A second later, Sharon’s kitchen is invaded by half a dozen thirteen-year-old boys. One notorious troublemaker, Baxter Morse, walks right into Sharon’s pantry and emerges with a bag of Fritos. Sharon wants to snatch the bag away. Baxter is Sharon’s least favorite of Robert’s friends; his mother, Celadon Morse, is insufferable.
“I’m making lunch for all of you right now,” Sharon says. “I’ll bring it out to the pool.”
“Do you have any sodas?” Baxter asks.
“Robert isn’t allowed soda because of his diabetes,” Sharon says. “Now, shoo, all of you. You’re dripping all over my kitchen.”
“Your mom is mean,” Baxter says to Robert on the way out. “And I can’t believe you aren’t allowed to have soda.”
I’m not mean!Sharon wants to shout. You’re rude! And thanks very little for your diabetes-shaming!
She turns her attention back to the envelope. The invitation is on heavy, cream linen stock with a pink border and pink print.
Pink and White Party at Triple Eight Pocomo
Saturday, June 22, 7:00 p.m.
Cocktails, Dinner, and Dancing
Regrets Only
Pink and White Party evokes Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball—or is Sharon upselling this? Surely they’re meant to wear pink and white, which will be easy for Sharon. She thinks of that young woman, Coco, in her pink polo and white shorts. Coco is working for the couple everyone on the island is talking about—and Kacy Kapenash was in the car. Maybe Sharon should resuscitate her “darlings,” despite her class’s nay-saying. It feels like the plot is thickening.
Sharon tapes the invitation to her fridge, and the whole kitchen seems to take on a pinkish tinge—or maybe that’s because of the improvement in Sharon’s mood. She finishes making the sandwiches and manages to resist the urge to put a spider in one and give it to Baxter.
Fast Eddie speeds out the Milestone Road like a man on the lam. He just received word that Jeanne Jackson has decided to sell off her six acres of waterfront land in Tom Nevers, the last parcel of its kind on the entire island.
Eddie pushes his Cayenne to sixty, then sixty-five. He fears being nabbed by the Nantucket police, but he fears losing this opportunity even more. He spoke to Jeanne, who is, thankfully, a realist and is just fine with dividing the property into three two-acre parcels. It will be easier to sell that way.
When Eddie pulls down Jackson Way (the family has owned the property so long, the road is named after them), he realizes he’s too late. Addison Wheeler’s Aston Martin is already parked at the beach access and Addison is deep in conversation with Jeanne Jackson.
Eddie hurries over. He’s been flirting with a crazy idea, and Addison might be just the person to make it work.
An hour later, heading the opposite way on Milestone, Eddie is speeding once again, this time due to a pure adrenaline high. His crazy idea wasn’t so crazy after all because it turned out Addison had been thinking the same thing. They should buy the three lots and build spec houses. Jeanne wanted to list the lots at three million apiece, but instead of telling Jeanne (who clearly hasn’t looked at a Nantucket real estate listing sheet in the past fifteen years) that she could easily list the parcels at five or six million apiece, Addison and Eddie locked eyes and an unspoken understanding passed between them. They could buy the lots for nine million, spend another four million per lot on a house, guesthouse, pool, and pool house plus landscaping, then flip them for twelve to fifteen million apiece. It was easy money just waiting to be made by the two people who understood the island’s real estate market better than anyone.
When Eddie climbed into his car, Addison sent him a text: Call me in the morning. It was as electrifying as a message from a lover.
Eddie’s phone rings; it’s his wife, Grace. Immediately, Eddie feels… caught. The truth is that Eddie did a deal similar to this ten years earlier and lost not only his proverbial shirt but his good name and his freedom as well. He’d been so desperate for cash that he started a prostitution ring on Low Beach Road, a scheme for which he’d gone to prison for three years. When Grace hears that he’s thinking of getting back into spec houses, she’ll call a divorce attorney. He’ll have to reassure her that this time will be different. Maybe instead of taking out a loan from the bank, they’ll find a deep-pockets investor, someone who considers eighteen million dollars Starbucks money, someone who likes a challenge, someone who would value Eddie and Addison’s island connections. It would mean divvying up the profits but also the risk. Eddie likes this idea; he isn’t sure a bank would lend to him again anyway.
“Hello?” Eddie says.
“You aren’t going to believe who invited us to their party on Saturday!”
Is it someone who wants to fund my new real estate venture?“Who?”
“Bull and Leslee Richardson,” Grace says. “They’re throwing a pink and white party at Triple Eight Pocomo. The invitation is gorgeous and it was hand-delivered by their personal concierge.” She pauses. “Why do you think we got invited?”
“They’re networking!” Eddie says.
“So they’re using us?” Grace asks.
“Networking is a two-way street, darling,” Eddie says. Especially in this case, he thinks. He’s so amped up about the invite—it’s like the universe is telling him something—that he hits the gas even harder practically without noticing. But someone else notices.
“I caught Fast Eddie going eighty-one miles an hour on the Milestone Road,” Sergeant Dixon tells the Chief. “That was fast even for him. And get this—his excuse was that he was excited about some party invitation he and Grace received.”
Invitation,the Chief thinks. Must be to the Richardsons’ house on Saturday. Andrea texted a couple of hours earlier instructing the Chief to get a haircut because they had a swanky party to attend. Andrea had sounded pretty giddy and Ed supposed he understood. They didn’t get invited to a lot of parties; having the chief of police in attendance felt like a buzzkill.
Andrea texts Phoebe and Delilah: Did you guys get your invitations to the Richardsons’ party on Saturday?
Phoebe texts back immediately. Yes! Let me know if you want to go shopping. This is a new-dress occasion!
Andrea rolls her eyes. Every occasion for Phoebe requires a new dress. But when Andrea checks her closet, she sees a lot of brown and gray. Her wardrobe could use a summer refresh. She needs pink and white.
She texts back: I’m helping Delilah at the food pantry at noon. I can meet you at Milly and Grace at one p.m. to shop. Immediately, she feels a wave of guilt. How can she volunteer at the Nantucket food pantry and then turn around and drop two hundred dollars (probably more) on a dress she’s going to wear to a glamorous party? She reminds herself that Leslee Richardson expressed interest in donating to the food pantry. Delilah should circle back about that with Leslee at the party. Or is that tacky?
A text comes in from Delilah: Was the invitation sent by email? I don’t see it.
Phoebe responds: It was a paper invite, pink envelope, hand-delivered.
Hand-delivered?Delilah texts back. By a footman with white gloves and fringed epaulets?
Coco delivered them,Andrea texts. Kacy offered to help her.
There’s silence from Delilah.
Oh god,Andrea thinks. Is it possible Delilah isn’t invited to the party? Delilah was thorny with Leslee at their lunch. Andrea and Delilah had been kicking each other under the table because some of the things Leslee said were, quite frankly, hard to take, and there was a little honeymoon moment going on between Leslee and Phoebe that bordered on nauseating. Andrea has always been better than Delilah at dealing with uncomfortable situations; Delilah has a short fuse. Did Leslee sense that Delilah didn’t like her and not include her?
That would be awkward.
Delilah checks her front door, looks under the welcome mat, in the hydrangea bushes. Nothing. As she marches out to the mailbox, a sinkhole opens inside her. Leslee Richardson is throwing a party just like she said she would—and she didn’t deem Delilah worthy of an invitation. At lunch it felt like Leslee was interested only in people who could be of use to her. People like Phoebe, because of the club; Andrea, because of Ed.
Delilah still worries, however, that the fault is somehow hers. She wasn’t very welcoming or gracious to the woman; she’d left the table abruptly because she was angry and jealous and then bad-mouthed Leslee to Blond Sharon, of all people. Sharon might have repeated Delilah’s words to anyone, to everyone.
Well, Delilah hadn’t said anything she didn’t mean. She took an instant dislike to Leslee, and yes, that was wrapped up in her best-friend attachment to Phoebe and to her and Jeffrey’s inability to get admitted to the Field and Oar Club. But didn’t Leslee Richardson have some good qualities? She’d laughed at Delilah’s slutty-vegan comment. She’d asked for information about the food pantry. Didn’t that reveal a generous nature? But from the moment Delilah met Leslee Richardson, she’d gotten a bad feeling. Since that’s the case, shouldn’t Delilah be glad that she hasn’t received an invitation? Would she agree to go even if she were invited?
Yes!Delilah thinks. She wants to buy a new outfit, she wants to see the famous house, she wants to go to the party.
Delilah wonders if maybe Coco couldn’t find her house—it’s off a dirt road and can be tricky to locate, even with GPS. But Kacy was with her, and Kacy has been coming to Delilah’s since she was a little girl.
That’s it!Delilah thinks. Kacy never uses the front door; she uses the family door on the side of the house. Delilah hurries out and, whoa, the relief she feels when she sees the pink envelope gives her a head rush. Of course Leslee invited her; it would have been an egregious oversight not to. Delilah, Phoebe, and Andrea are a package deal. They’re all supposed to play pickleball together.
Delilah reads the invitation: Pink and White Party; cocktails, dinner, and dancing. It sounds like so much fun!
She vows to try harder with Leslee. If she gives the relationship a genuine effort, by the time the summer is over, she and Leslee will be the best of friends.