21. Firecracker
News of the Richardsons’ upcoming Fourth of July party aboard Hedonism sets the cobblestone telegraph ablaze. Once again the invitations are hand-delivered—square red envelopes this time—but the guest list has been trimmed by more than half. Dr. Andy hears about the party from Busy Ambrose while Busy is in for a cleaning, but when Dr. Andy checks with his wife, Rachel, he discovers they didn’t make the cut.
“You shouldn’t have taken so many videos!” Dr. Andy says.
“You shouldn’t have passed out naked in their party room!” Rachel fires back.
“Everyone was naked,” Dr. Andy says. “You were naked.”
“Should we send them flowers?” Rachel asks.
“Nobody died,” Dr. Andy says. “Why don’t we invite them for dinner?”
“I’d have to redecorate the whole house before Leslee Richardson sets foot in it,” Rachel says.
“Should we offer to take them out?” Dr. Andy asks. “I have a contact at Cru.”
“They go out every night,” Rachel says. “They can get into Cru on their own; they practically have their own stools at the back bar.”
“So—what? We just give up?”
Rachel can put a positive spin on nearly any situation, but now she feels like one of those sad freshman girls who didn’t get bids from their chosen sororities. Maybe Andy is right, she thinks. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken all those videos.
Delilah peers out her window looking for Coco in the baby-blue Land Rover. The more Delilah thinks about her behavior during the pickleball game, the more ashamed she feels. Why did she act like such a poor sport? Yes, Leslee volleyed while standing in the kitchen, but who cares? (Delilah cares; it’s not winning if you cheat.) At Phoebe’s pool afterward, Delilah tried to smooth things over but Leslee frosted her out, addressing her comments to only Phoebe and Andrea. Delilah gave up and thought, I can’t stand this woman, why am I pretending?
But even so, later, when she gets home from the Stop and Shop and sees the red envelope tucked into the corner of her screen door, she feels weak with relief.
Both Sharon and Romeo receive invitations but Sharon is in a quandary: Her sister, Heather, will be visiting over the Fourth. “I notice these invitations don’t include a plus-one like the Pink and White Party did,” Sharon says to Romeo over the phone. Since the day of the boat ride, they’ve been in constant communication, texting every few hours, talking on the phone each night before bed.
“Thank god my plus-one is already invited,” Romeo says.
That’s sweet,Sharon thinks. But what will she do about Heather? She calls Leslee Richardson. “My sister, Heather, will be visiting,” Sharon says. “Is there any way I might bring her along?”
“I’m so sorry,” Leslee says. “Numbers on the boat are limited.”
“I completely understand,” Sharon says.
“Will you not be able to make it, then?” Leslee asks. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your sister.”
Sharon pauses. She knows she should offer her regrets and hang out with Heather, but the idea of missing the party—with Romeo—is too much to bear. “Don’t be silly,” Sharon says.
Eric and Avalon are invited on the sail, but they decline. They’re going to drive out to Coatue and grill clams on their hibachi.
“Do you want to join us?” Avalon asks Kacy.
“Coco wants me to come on the sail,” Kacy says, “and I think it sounds like fun.”
“Well,” Avalon says evenly, “if it’s anything like the Pink and White Party, I’m sure you’ll have stories for us.”
The theme of the sail is American Summer, and those of us invited dress accordingly. We board Hedonism on Swain’s Wharf and each of us is immediately handed a cocktail called the firecracker, which is a layered drink: red on the bottom (grenadine), white in the middle (vodka and lemonade), and blue cura?ao on top.
Has any cocktail that includes blue cura?ao ever tasted good? Coco believes the answer is no, but Leslee insisted on this drink for the wow factor, and people seem to be slurping them right down. Coco will have to handcraft another round, but because space on the boat is limited, she’s in charge of passing the hors d’oeuvres that Zoe Alistair’s team dropped off: pigs in a blanket, classic shrimp cocktail, and corn and lobster fritters with a seeded mustard dipping sauce.
Kacy says, “Do you want help?”
“I’ll find you during the fireworks,” Coco says.
“What’s good with you and Lamont?” Kacy asks. “Are you linking?”
“No,” Coco says truthfully. Since they were caught on Whale Island, Lamont has been avoiding her. Coco texted him to ask if everything went okay getting the boat back; he responded that it was fine—neither Leslee nor Bull noticed the boat had been missing—but they shouldn’t try that again.
It was poor form. The Richardsons aren’t paying us to hang.
Right,Coco thought. They broke “the rule,” and bumping into Kacy spooked him; news of their adventure could easily have gotten back to Bull and Leslee.
Can we hang out off-property sometime?she texted. There’s an entire island past the end of the driveway.
Three dots arose; he was typing. She waited for his response, but none came.
Coco hasn’t seen Lamont except in passing since then, but she thinks maybe tonight, they can reconnect. When she finishes making the first tray of drinks, she offers one to Lamont. “Firecracker?”
“You’re kidding, right?” he says. “I’m the captain, Coco.”
“Okay,” she says. “Sorry.”
Fast Eddie boards the boat with a new confidence. Their offer for Jeanne Jackson’s property was accepted and signed. In a few weeks, they’ll sign the purchase and sale agreement; Bull will wire the money, and they’ll break ground. Grace was initially livid that Eddie was getting back into real estate development, but she calmed down when he told her that Addison Wheeler was involved and that Bull Richardson was financing the entire thing as an equal partner. In Grace’s eyes, the Richardsons can do no wrong.
Grace is wearing a new dress to the party, a slinky red thing with a low back and a slit up the front. Eddie would like to believe Grace wants to look good for him, but when he sees Benton Coe over on the port side holding a cocktail and talking with Leslee Richardson—who is, frankly, fawning all over the guy—Eddie wonders if Grace knew he would be here. Oh, how Eddie wishes Benton were one of the people who’d gotten axed from the Richardsons’ guest list. No such luck.
Sharon and Romeo arrive at the party together, and the first person who notices is Busy Ambrose from the Field and Oar Club. “Are you two an item, then?” she asks. Instead of looking happy for Sharon, she appears perplexed. Busy is a terrible snob, and Romeo, “the Steamship guy,” falls beneath her consideration.
“We are!” Sharon says. “And we’re very happy, thanks.”
Sharon is wearing snug white pants, a navy-and-white-striped halter, and the cutest red jean jacket that she’d asked her sister, Heather, to pick up from the Saks in Chevy Chase. “You look adorbs,” Heather said in the minutes before Romeo arrived. “And very on-theme.” Sharon had worried that Heather might be miffed about Sharon going to the party without her, but Heather was thrilled to have a night at home. Sterling and Colby were going to a bonfire, so Heather and Robert planned to order from Pi Pizzeria and “hang out”—which meant, Sharon knew, that Robert would watch MrBeast on YouTube and Heather would work.
“What’s the name of the couple throwing the party again?” Heather asked.
“The Richardsons,” Sharon said. “Bull and Leslee.”
The name Bull Richardson sounded familiar to Heather, though she wasn’t sure why.
Delilah tries to resist having fun, but that’s impossible. She helps herself to a firecracker cocktail and joins a tour of the living space below deck. The boat is glamorous—so much creamy leather and gleaming mahogany, so many king beds sheathed in navy and white linens, so many huge bouquets of lilies and Dutch hydrangeas from Flowers on Chestnut. Back on deck, Delilah pops a crispy corn and lobster fritter into her mouth and feels a surge of excitement as the motor starts and the Valladares brothers, Javier and Esteban, who are crewing tonight, gather the lines and push them off the dock. She sees Leslee across the way talking to the Chief and Andrea, but as soon as Delilah approaches, Leslee says, “I have to check on the buffet, and the music should be louder, don’t you think?” and disappears with a wave.
The Chief turns to Delilah. “I heard you were a real bulldog at pickleball the other day,” he says.
Lamont Oakley and the Valladares brothers raise the sails as we exit Nantucket Harbor. The only sight more majestic than the sails billowing against the setting sun as seen from below might be Hedonism in full sail as seen from a neighboring boat.
Blythe Buchanan and her wife, Linda, have motored over from Cape Cod in their thirty-eight-foot Regal, Dawg Daze II, to watch our fireworks as they do every year. As Hedonism sails by, some people wave, and Blythe and Linda wave back. But a second later, Blythe nearly chokes on her spicy margarita.
“Did you see who was on that boat?” she asks.
Linda is a step ahead of her, using the MarineFinder app to figure out who owns Hedonism. “Lord have mercy,” she says. “Bull and Leslee Richardson bought it.” Linda and Blythe met the Richardsons in Palm Beach, and oh, boy, do they have stories.
Blythe groans. “Nantucket better watch out.”
Back at Blond Sharon’s house, Heather is working on a case, but she takes a quick break to google the couple throwing the party. Neither Bull nor his wife seem to be active on social media, though Heather finds Bulfinch Richardson’s LinkedIn profile. He owns Sweetwater, a beverage-distribution company that’s somehow also a Hollywood production company. (There are credits for movies Heather has never heard of.) When Heather digs a little deeper, the name clicks—the SEC did a preliminary investigation into Sweetwater Distribution. The company owns a bottling plant and a plastics factory that manufactures the bottles. A whistleblower called them out for environmental infractions and for misleading greenhouse-gas-emissions disclosures. But had anything come of it? Heather is going to check when she returns to the office.
Heather sends Sharon a text: How’s the party? Heather needs to be careful. Her sister is the biggest gossip on the island and anything Heather tells Sharon about Bull’s business will be all over Nantucket quicker than you can say Vanderpump Rules.
It’s divine!Sharon texts back. Then another text comes in, a photo of Sharon with a red carnation clenched between her teeth and Romeo in an Uncle Sam hat. They’re both holding sparklers.
Bull’s company must have been cleared of any wrongdoing,Heather thinks. Just because he was investigated doesn’t mean he broke the law. The Richardsons are allowed to have fun; as the sound of the first fireworks remind Heather, it’s a free country. She won’t say anything to Sharon about the Richardsons, she decides. After all, they’re not dangerous. It’s not like they’re going to hurt anyone.
Hedonism anchors off Jetties Beach, where those of us not invited to the Richardsons’ party have gathered to watch the fireworks. We hear the music pumping: “Born in the USA,” then Katy Perry’s “Firework.” Everyone on board is whooping and dancing; we hear the distinct pop of a champagne cork.
Dr. Andy McMann and his wife, Rachel, are hunkered down in the sand eating takeout sushi and drinking a very nice white Bordeaux, but even so, Dr. Andy sees Rachel staring at Hedonism with longing. “Don’t look,” he says.
But it’s like worrying a loose tooth (a behavior Dr. Andy knows only too well). Rachel can’t help herself.
Eric and Avalon can see Hedonism from their spot on the second point of Coatue. Eric pulls clams off the grill, and Avalon drags the smoky gems through melted butter. She washes the clams down with a cold beer, then lies back on the blanket next to Eric and counts the emerging stars.
She hears music—the entire island is being treated to the Richardsons’ soundtrack—and snuggles against her boyfriend, digging her feet into the cool sand. The first firework whistles, pops, and explodes in a burst of silver and gold above them. A chorus of happy screams goes up from the boat. Avalon is so glad she’s not on it.
Coco can’t wait for this party to be over. She’s in charge of setting up the buffet—fried chicken, ribs, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, homemade pickles, and biscuits with honey butter—and then cleaning it all up. While she’s collecting plates and trash, she finds a sparerib sticking out from between two of the cushions of the ivory sofa in the living area. Who does something like that? She moves on to setting up the miniature pies—cherry, blueberry, peach, pecan, and banana cream—that Leslee had flown in from a place called Peggy Jean’s in Columbia, Missouri.
Coco hears the fireworks begin and thinks, Thank god, the end is near. When she goes above deck, her Leslee radar kicks in. Coco likes to know where her boss is at all times. First she checks the captain’s wheel because, as she’s learned, Leslee tries to stay as close to Lamont as possible, but Lamont is talking to his crew, Javier and Esteban. Javier is a senior at Nantucket High School, Esteban a junior; they’re both on the sailing team. Just like Lamont was, Javier told Coco when she met him. They’re listening to Lamont like he’s Captain America.
Coco spies Bull in the bow talking to Fast Eddie and Addison Wheeler. Andrea, Delilah, and Phoebe are chatting amongst themselves. Sharon and the hot guy from the Steamship are all cozied up. Where is Leslee? Coco wanders the boat until she sees her boss with Benton Coe in the stern, leaning against the back gate. Leslee has opted for a different look tonight: a pair of skinny blue jeans and a tight Budweiser T-shirt with a red bandanna woven through her braid. Bright red lipstick. Coco has to admit, Leslee looks adorable (and far more comfortable than, say, Fast Eddie’s wife, who came in a red silk gown). Benton obviously appreciates Leslee’s look because the two of them are standing hip to hip, and when Leslee reaches up to rub Benton’s neck, he lolls his head back and groans with delight.
Coco feels like she’s spying. This is none of her business, she should be working; with thirty-five people on board, someone will need a drink. Kacy is sitting by herself on the starboard side. Coco should spend a few minutes with her, let Kacy take a selfie of them the way she likes to (knowing Kacy, she’s probably making a Snapfish album that she’ll give to Coco at the end of the summer; she’s thoughtful that way)—but Coco can’t tear her eyes away from Leslee and Benton. Benton sits on the back bench and Leslee moves behind him to give him a full-on back rub. After a moment, she bends down and whispers in his ear.
Is anyone else seeing this?Coco wonders.
The Chief is restless. The Fourth is one of his least favorite days of the year. It starts with all of the antics out at Nobadeer Beach—girls going topless, guys doing flips off the dunes, idiots using empty beer bottles as projectiles, the entire Boston College offensive line getting into a scrap with half the Morgan Stanley trading floor. Every year the Chief’s officers write over a hundred tickets for underage drinking. This segues right into fifteen thousand people cramming onto Jetties Beach with their hibachi grills and open containers. Talk about a public-safety nightmare. Then there are the bozos who have bought fireworks out of state and choose to set them off from their buddy’s widow’s walk. There are noise complaints, people losing fingers, yards catching on fire.
As the Chief, Andrea, and Kacy were driving to Swain’s Wharf to meet the Richardsons’ boat, a car zoomed by, passing them illegally on Washington Street.
“Whoa, buddy,” the Chief said. It was a silver Range Rover with the license plate BEAST. The blond kid driving eyed Ed in his rearview mirror and flipped him off. You again? Ed thought.
“Pull him over, Ed,” Andrea said.
Ed wanted to, very badly, but they were in Andrea’s car, he had no lights or siren, and they were already running late. He didn’t want the boat to leave without them.
Now, Ed regrets his decision to come. What the hell is he doing on this boat? He should be on the ground with the rest of his department. The Fourth is an all-hands-on-deck occasion and here he is, aboard what is essentially a floating nightclub.
He takes a breath. He’s not drinking tonight, Coco was kind enough to bring him a seltzer with lime, and he has his phone in case of emergencies, but it’s been quiet. Will this luck hold? The Chief has been listening to Jeffrey talk about how the dry summer has helped the corn crop while their wives gab away and Addison schmoozes with Bull and Fast Eddie. The Chief pushes himself to his feet.
“Are you getting one of those pies?” Jeffrey asks.
Oh, how he’d love to, but Andrea lectured him about not letting summertime sabotage his healthy routines, so no—no pie. “Just taking a stroll,” he says. The fact is, he can’t sit still. He wants the fireworks to be over, he wants to get back to Swain’s Wharf. He wants to put out an APB for the jackass in the silver Range Rover.
Ed feels better once he’s moving and catches the breeze. He circles to the back of the boat, reminding himself to breathe; the biggest threat to his health isn’t cherry pie, it’s stress.
He should have waited until next summer to attend parties like this—but Andrea is gung ho about the Richardsons. Eric and Avalon managed to wiggle out of this; the Chief should have done the same. Everyone would have understood.
He reaches the stern of the boat, hoping to be alone to reflect, but there’s a couple on the back bench, the woman standing behind the man with her hands on his shoulders.
“Oops, sorry,” Ed says. He’s interrupting—but then the woman turns and he sees it’s Leslee Richardson with Benton Coe. She’s… what? Giving him a back rub? Benton hops to his feet, shakes out his arms, and says, “I feel much better, thanks.” Then he offers Ed a lopsided smile as if to say, This isn’t what it looks like. Ed isn’t there to judge, though he’s made uncomfortable by the memory of Leslee Richardson appearing in his dream. They were dancing together. This thought is enough to propel Ed right back to the front of the boat.
He shouldn’t be here.
During the fireworks, Coco approaches the empty seat next to Lamont. “Mind if I sit?”
Without looking at her he says, “I would prefer it if you didn’t.”
He can’t be any clearer than that. What happened on the beach was a fluke, then—except Coco knows it wasn’t. She knows Lamont likes her. So… he’s worried about the rule. As if Leslee isn’t breaking all kinds of rules herself.
Coco moves closer to the bow and sits with Kacy. She considers telling Kacy about Leslee and Benton but the whistles, pops, and bangs make conversation impossible. Kacy snaps a selfie of the two of them—their faces are luminous with a rose-gold glow.
After what seems like an interminable wait—one rocket soars and explodes, then the next, at a leisurely pace—the fireworks start to overlap, unfolding one on top of the other.
This, then, is the finale. Coco turns around to sneak a peek at Lamont—and feels like she’s been slapped. Leslee has taken the empty spot next to him; she has her arm snaked around the back of his seat, and one of her blue-jeaned legs is flung across Lamont’s lap.
Kacy turns to look as well. “Jeez, poor Lamont.”
What had he said on Whale Island? When Bull offered me the job, he told me I’m supposed to treat her like the only woman in the world. But sorry, this is beyond inappropriate. Coco checks to see if anyone else has noticed. Bull is up in the bow with his real estate bros, and the other guests’ gazes are all aimed skyward. Those who have noticed are probably turning a blind eye because they’re thrilled to have been invited on this sail and they may even believe that the way Bull and Leslee Richardson conduct their marriage is their own business.
Coco’s rage glows like a hot coal in her chest. Leslee is abusing Lamont, taking advantage of his service and employment. She probably thinks he finds all the touching and flirting harmless, maybe even flattering.
Does he?Coco wonders.
When the sky finally goes dark, everyone on the boat and back on shore cheers.
Yankee Doodle Dandy,Coco thinks. It’s over.
Bull stands in the prow and raises his champagne flute. “Where’s my wife?” he calls. “Leslee?”
Leslee peels herself off Lamont and weaves among her party guests until she reaches Bull. The music starts back up—“American Woman” by Lenny Kravitz. Leslee grabs Bull around the waist and hugs him close, then they do some hokey dance steps to prove what a cute couple they are.
Bull beams. Coco supposes that to the casual observer, he must seem like the luckiest man in the world.
It’s well after ten when Eddie and Grace get back to their car, but Grace says, “I thought the party would go on much longer. I thought maybe we’d be invited back to their house.”
“This is just as well,” Eddie says. “I have a showing at nine tomorrow.”
Grace sniffs. “Did you see? First Leslee was all over Benton Coe, then she threw herself at Lamont.”
“Wow,” Eddie says. “She’s a real firecracker on the Fourth, huh?”
Grace scowls, leaving Eddie to laugh at his own dad joke.
There’s a knock on the door of Coco’s apartment. She sits straight up in bed, though half her brain is still asleep. She’s dreaming? There’s another knock. No, she’s awake, and someone is here. She checks her phone—it’s a quarter past twelve. Nobody has come up to Coco’s apartment since she moved in.
Another knock.
Well,she thinks, it’s either Bull or Leslee. Maybe Bull realized he was being cuckolded at his own party on his own yacht and wants to get even by trying to seduce Coco. Maybe it’s Leslee because she needs someone to listen while she feels herself: Tonight was so fabulous, the best Fourth of July party this island has ever seen! Maybe she thinks Coco didn’t do a thorough job cleaning up (she did a very thorough job and found another barbecued rib stuck inside the Kleenex box in the guest bathroom; someone was out to make a point). Maybe she thinks Coco didn’t separate the trash and recycling correctly (Coco is fastidious about the trash and recycling after being schooled by the women who work at the town dump).
Whatever the reason, Coco doesn’t want to see either of the Richardsons. She will pretend she’s asleep.
Her phone pings with a text. She reads it and then lies back in bed, blowing air at the ceiling. Ignore it, she thinks. But she can’t.
She opens the front door. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” Lamont says. He leans against the doorframe like one of the Abercrombie models from Coco’s youth. He’s wearing his crisp white captain’s shirt; Coco’s eyes are drawn to his neck and the pulse visible beneath his smooth brown skin.
“You do realize that showing up here in the middle of the night comes dangerously close to breaking the rule?” she says.
“Yes.” His eyes narrow at her. Has she ever been looked at so intensely? “My attraction to you is more powerful than my fear of breaking the rule.”
“Is it?” she asks. Her nipples harden beneath the white tank she wears to bed. She moves one inch closer to him but does not touch him. She wants him to be the one to cross the line.
“It is.” His voice is husky. He traces a finger along her exposed clavicle, dipping into the hollow at her neck. His touch is featherlight, more a tease than a touch, and it’s working. Coco feels a pulsing between her legs. She wants to undo his brass anchor belt buckle, but she stands perfectly still.
“I don’t want you to treat Leslee like the only woman in the world,” she says. “I want you to treat me that way.”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Finally, he bends down. His lips hover over hers for a second, then he kisses her and she pulls him inside.