Swan Song

31. The Third Eight

Coco has made it deep enough into the summer that she’s confident she can take a few liberties. When she stops at Nantucket Meat and Fish, she gets the steak tips, the salmon, and the bag of Bull’s favorite pretzels that are on Leslee’s list, but she adds a slender bottle of truffle oil, a package of crisp rosemary flatbreads, and a pound of Rainier cherries for herself (she’s not even sure she’ll like the cherries but they’re expensive and she figures they should be something she at least tries). Down the street at Pip and Anchor, she buys Leslee’s usual organic rosé and her Savage cheese, then goes on a spree in the jams and spreads section. She throws a bottle of homemade ketchup into her basket along with cider syrup and a jar of strawberry Italian plum rosewater jam (for the name alone). Leslee has never once asked Coco for a receipt, never questioned a charge, so why not indulge?

She opts to go to Sea View Farm rather than Bartlett’s, hoping to “bump into” Delilah. She would like to speak in code so that Delilah knows that Coco, too, would have filled Leslee’s G-Wagon from floor mats to dashboard with lobster dan dan noodles if she thought she could’ve gotten away with it.

Delilah isn’t around, but no matter. Coco chooses a rainbow of heirloom tomatoes, six ears of Silver Queen corn, a dozen eggs that are still warm in their carton, and half a dozen lilies (at fifteen dollars a pop) to brighten up her own apartment.

At the register, she hands over Leslee’s card and sets the eggs and produce gently in the canvas bags she brought from home (this is her own touch; Leslee doesn’t care about reusable bags).

“I’m sorry,” the cashier says. She’s a teenager with a pale round face and one prominent zit on her chin that’s hard not to stare at. “Your card isn’t working.”

“What?” Coco says.

“It’s been declined.”

Coco smiles indulgently. “Would you try it again?”

The girl feeds the chip into the reader. “Declined again. Do you have another card?”

Coco has only her own card and some cash, her own personal money. The total is a hundred and twenty-six dollars (for tomatoes, corn, eggs, and lilies!). There’s no way Coco is paying for this. She wonders if Leslee blocked Sea View Farm on her credit card because she hates Delilah so much. Is that a thing you can do? There are three people behind Coco in line, and she has two choices: use her own money or humiliate herself by putting everything back. This, she thinks, is karma pinching her for her hubris.

Just buy it,she thinks. The lilies will look pretty on the counter and they’ll smell nice; who cares if they cost ninety dollars? (Coco cares. It’s not the money, it’s the money.)

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I think I should just…” She remembers the young mothers she used to see at Harps in Rosebush, asking the cashier to take off the six-pack of Mountain Dew (We don’t need it) and the clementines (I’m not even sure how they got in my cart) when they spent more than they had on them. Coco feels the heat of the other customers’ gazes at her back.

“Coco?”

Coco turns to see Delilah approaching. Which makes the situation a thousand times more awkward. Now Coco will have to suck it up and pay.

“Is there a problem?” Delilah asks.

“Her card—” the teenager says.

“My card,” Coco says, “I mean Leslee’s card was declined. But it’s fine, I have cash of my own, I’ll just—”

Delilah waves a hand. “Put it on my house charge,” she tells the teenager.

“Oh, no, you don’t have—”

“Coco, please,” Delilah says. “I’m just so happy to see you somewhere other than Triple Eight.”

Coco takes her bag and the lilies. Delilah strolls with her to where Baby is parked. Coco says, “Thank you, I’m sorry. The card being declined was… unexpected.”

Delilah winks. “Leslee probably forgot to pay her bill because she’s been so busy getting everyone on the island stinking drunk.” She peers in the passenger window at the other parcels. “Do you ever splurge on treats for yourself?” she asks. “Because I know I would.”

Coco lays the lilies across the seat and puts on her new sunglasses; she finally upgraded from the pink plastic pair she’d found at her bar. The new pair has polarized lenses that turn the whole world a clear, sparkling blue. “For myself?” Coco says, as though the idea never occurred to her.

Coco has one last errand—to fill Baby’s tank with gas. Baby takes premium unleaded, which on Nantucket is a mind-blowing five dollars and sixty-five cents a gallon. But Coco doesn’t get to spend ninety-five dollars on three-quarters of a tank of gas because, once again, Leslee’s card is declined.

When Coco gets home, she finds Leslee in the library seated at the escritoire with—Coco blinks—two fingers of bourbon in front of her (it’s a quarter past eleven) and her checkbook out.

“Hey,” Coco says. She waves the card. “This was declined a couple of times this morning.”

Leslee glances up. “Ridiculous.”

Right,Coco thinks. Except it’s not.

“It was declined at the farm. I had the girl try it twice.” Coco will obviously not mention Delilah. “Then it was declined at the gas station.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, and Bull’s not here.”

“He’s not?” Coco says. “Did he go on a business trip again?”

“New York,” she says. “Or DC. I can’t remember which. He’s meeting with lawyers about god knows what. He’ll be back tonight.”

“Do you want to look at your account online and see what the problem is?” Coco asks. “I can help you.”

Leslee sips the bourbon. “No, I do not want to look at my account online,” she says. She tears a check from the checkbook. “I have to pay Benton before he sues us.”

There are two other checks on the desk, one made out to Tiffin Academy for a hundred thousand dollars and one made out to the Francis Ambrose Memorial Scholarship Fund for seventy-five thousand. Leslee takes pictures of each check on her phone.

“Would you like me to mail those?” Coco asks.

Leslee rips up both checks and lets the pieces float into the wastebasket. “No, I would not.” She glances up at Coco impatiently. “Anything else?”

“What should I do about the card?”

“I have no idea, Coco,” Leslee says, picking up Benton’s check, which is still in one piece. “I have to deliver this so that he’ll finish the garden so I can have my hot-tub party.” She throws back the rest of the bourbon. “I need to go.”

The next morning, Coco and Lamont eat the juicy, sweet Rainier cherries in bed. “Elite cherries,” Lamont says. “The Amalfi lemons of cherries,” Coco says. She’s been considering getting a tattoo of an Amalfi lemon on her inner wrist.

“Do you think Bull and Leslee have money problems?” Coco asks.

“You’re kidding, right?” Lamont says.

Coco tells him about the credit card (Leslee gave Coco a new card from something called ANZ, an Australian bank). Then she tells him about Leslee taking pictures of the two donation checks before ripping them up.

“I don’t pretend to understand why Leslee does what she does,” Lamont says. “And you probably shouldn’t try either.” He holds a cherry between his teeth and Coco leans in to take a nibble. Juice dribbles down her chin, leaving golden drops on her white sheets, but in the next second, the cherry is devoured and she’s kissing Lamont and who cares about the sheets and who cares about Leslee?

In the days following, Benton Coe’s crew work around the clock on the circular garden. (Twice, they arrive so early that they almost catch Lamont leaving Coco’s apartment.) The progress they make in just a few days blows Coco’s mind. She feels like she’s on the sofa with her mother watching an episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Where are you, Ty Pennington? she wonders.

Leslee invites Coco for the big reveal and tells her to close her eyes. Leslee must not realize Coco can see straight down into the garden from her apartment.

But there is a certain amount of wonder once the arched wrought-iron gate opens and Coco steps inside. The boxwood hedges enclosing the garden are eight feet tall and too dense to see through; she feels like she’s entering a room. A low stone wall topped with granite benching runs around the base of the boxwoods. There’s a maze of cinder paths that wind around hydrangeas, rosebushes, a bed of cosmos and zinnias, a bed of snapdragons, pansies, and foxgloves; there’s a gazing ball on a pedestal amid cool green hostas. The flowers are in full bloom, buzzing with fat bumblebees, aflutter with butterflies. In the center is an eight-sided mahogany hot tub with elegant copper ladders hanging off each side. The bottom of the tub is tiled cobalt blue. It’s the bougiest hot tub Coco has ever seen.

Coco feels weirdly proud of Leslee for imagining such a lovely space. Leslee saw this in her mind’s eye and now they’re standing in it. “It’s like something out of a storybook,” Coco says. “Did you read The Secret Garden as a child?”

Leslee gives Coco a blank look. “It’s a party space,” she says. “We’re having a party.” Later that morning, she gives Coco six ivy-green envelopes to deliver.

Only six?Coco thinks. She wonders if Leslee made a mistake, because a lot of people are missing. But Leslee doesn’t make mistakes.

Heads,Coco thinks, will roll.

Please join us for a garden party on Tuesday, August 13,

at 6:00 p.m.

Cocktails and light bites

Suggested dress: Vintage Lilly Pulitzer

(Bring a swimsuit!)

When Sharon sees the baby-blue Land Rover pull into the driveway and Coco emerge holding an envelope, she hurries to her bedroom to hide. Robert, who is playing his video game in the family room, answers the door. (Poor kid; he probably thinks it’s Romeo—if only!)

A second later, Robert shouts, “Mom, you got something!”

Sharon is tempted to throw the envelope away without opening it, but curiosity gets the best of her. A garden party? she thinks. Vintage Lilly Pulitzer?

“Vintage Lilly Pulitzer?” Grace says. “I have an entire closet filled with new Lilly Pulitzer. Is that not good enough?”

“Wear what you have,” Eddie says. “The last thing we need to do is spend money on new clothes for the Richardsons’ party.”

“Not new clothes, Eddie. New old clothes. And yes, we do need to. Leslee will be able to spot the difference between vintage Lilly and new Lilly from In the Pink.”

“What if we skipped this one?” Eddie says.

“Skipped it?” Grace says. “You can skip it, but I want to see Benton’s work and use that hot tub.”

Eddie thinks, You are not going to a hot-tub party in a Benton Coe garden without me. “See if you can find me some vintage Lilly too.”

Delilah and Andrea are floating in Phoebe’s pool when Phoebe comes out onto the deck waving a green envelope. “Hand-delivered by Coco,” she says. “Leslee never stops.”

“I’m sure I didn’t get invited,” Delilah says. “Hell, even I wouldn’t invite me.”

Phoebe says, “Didn’t you apologize?”

Yes, Delilah apologized via text. She’d said she was upset about losing Leslee’s support for the food pantry and that she’d been drinking. I acted like a freaking child, she wrote. Please forgive me. Then she Venmoed four hundred dollars for the car detailing and sent a bouquet of sunflowers from the farm.

Leslee texted back: Don’t worry about it, lol.

Delilah thinks about telling Andrea and Phoebe that she let Coco put Leslee’s charges on the farm’s house account when Leslee’s credit card was declined, but she’s afraid it will sound like she’s patting herself on the back or like she’s hinting that the Richardsons have money problems, which is absurd.

Phoebe opens the envelope. “It’s a garden party,” she says. “Oooh, vintage Lilly Pulitzer.”

“Oooh,” Delilah and Andrea tease.

Phoebe laughs. “We mock what we don’t understand.”

The next day, when the Chief gets home from work—it was the first day of training for Nantucket’s new police chief, Zara Washington, which means Ed can officially start the countdown: thirteen days to go—Andrea shows him the invitation from the Richardsons and says, “I’m staying home but you should go.”

“What are you talking about?” The Chief studies his wife. She is still as beautiful to him as she was the first time he saw her—at the police station, standing in line to get a beach sticker for her Jeep. That day, she was wearing a white tank top, jean shorts, and flip-flops, and her hair was in a high ponytail. Ed had noticed her shoulders. He would later find out that she was a swimmer (and that she had just broken up with Jeffrey Drake, the farmer who is now one of their closest friends). Ed had introduced himself—he did this often back then because he was new—and when she smiled at him, Ed experienced a moment of recognition: You are the one for me. He’d offered to waive the fee for her sticker, and she said, “I’m not going to let you do that. I’ll go out with you for free.”

“Are you okay?” he asks now.

Andrea sighs. “Delilah and Jeffrey didn’t get invited. There’s a whole mess between Leslee and Delilah that you don’t want to know about, trust me.”

“I trust you,” the Chief says. He kisses Andrea; she has long been the one protecting him. “But I’m not going without you.”

“Will you please, Ed? Just make an appearance for an hour? I don’t think it’s wise to completely alienate the Richardsons.”

Ed gathers her up in his arms. “If you come upstairs with me, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Andrea nuzzles against his neck. “What has gotten into you?”

“I got my first taste of freedom. Zara started today.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but Kacy’s home.”

Ed laughs. “I didn’t picture still having kids at home during my retirement.”

“Let’s go upstairs anyway,” Andrea says, “and pick your outfit.”

Because there are only nine guests, Coco assumes the party will be low-key—but she’s wrong. Leslee ordered five thousand white string lights that Coco hangs around the arched gate and near the stone benches. Zoe Alistair sets up a very cool curved bar and high round-top tables along the cinder paths.

“I’m going for a swingers-in-the-summertime vibe,” Leslee tells Coco. “I wanted to put that on the invite but Bull didn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

Presumably, Leslee means swingers like the movie, Coco thinks, that new-old Sinatra feel. The cocktails are retro: bourbon sidecars, raspberry mules, and, yes, French 75s made with juice from the Amalfi lemons (this was Coco’s suggestion). They’re serving only finger foods—appetizers and desserts—because Leslee claims people don’t want to put on bathing suits when they feel full.

Coco thinks: A swingers theme, strong cocktails, tiny bites of food, a hot tub—what could go wrong?

Leslee wears a long halter dress printed with pink flamingos. It has white rickrack down the front that reminds Coco of icing on a Hostess cupcake. Leslee makes a point of mentioning that Beth from Current Vintage put this dress aside for Leslee the second it came in. (Beth apparently bought it from an estate sale in Palm Beach and thinks it might once have belonged to Lilly Pulitzer herself.) Coco makes the appropriate exclamations, then regards Bull, who is wearing hibiscus-orange pants with a bright turquoise linen shirt. (Coco reminds herself the man is color-blind, and Leslee clearly doesn’t care what he looks like.) If Bull and Leslee walked down the street in Rosebush wearing these outfits, everyone would go to their windows and stare. Some might grab their shotguns.

The first guests to arrive are Addison and Phoebe, then Eddie and Grace. Addison is wearing a green and yellow Lilly blazer that matches Phoebe’s A-line skirt. Do people have this stuff in their closets? No—the Wheelers also went to see Beth at Current Vintage. Grace is wearing a cute Lilly halter top—“It’s not vintage, sorry”—and Eddie is wearing a tan linen suit and a panama hat. “I brought Lilly bathing trunks for later,” he says.

Busy Ambrose shows up in a yellow and pink shift dress with a pink kerchief on her head. Romeo is wearing navy and pink Lilly pants, and the Chief shows up in a white shirt with a Lilly bow tie.

Leslee asks the Chief where Andrea is and he says, “She’s had a little too much summer; she’s taking a night off. And I can only stay an hour.”

“Don’t say that!” Leslee links her arm through the Chief’s. “Let’s get you a sidecar.”

Sharon appears wearing green pedal pushers printed with white daisies and a white blouse knotted at her midriff. She’s piled her blond hair on top of her head and done winged eyeliner and a hot-pink lip. Another surprise is that she enters the garden on the arm of Benton Coe, who is wearing jeans. Not on theme—but he’s so hot it doesn’t matter.

The music kicks in with “You and Me and the Bottle Makes Three Tonight,” and at the same time all the lights in the garden come on. Coco passes out sidecars in coupe glasses, mules in copper mugs, and the French 75s in flutes. Addison and Phoebe say they want to try all three, then Busy says she does too. Zoe Alistair dropped off platters of deep-fried olives stuffed with sausage and tiny cucumber sandwiches, a chafing dish of grape-jelly meatballs.

Coco gets a text from Lamont. How’s it going? He got a pass from tonight’s party. Leslee told him to skip it, and Coco fears this is because Leslee has figured out they’re seeing each other and she wants to keep them apart. Lamont thinks Coco is paranoid. Tonight he’s chauffeuring Glynnie to her book group.

Coco watches Leslee insist the Chief have a drink and sees Benton show Sharon the hollyhocks. Busy is telling Romeo that her Subaru mysteriously disappeared from the Steamship’s standby list, and is there anything he can do?

Calm and civilized,Coco texts back.

That’s disappointing,Lamont says.

Check back later,Coco texts.

Sharon has pulled out all the stops: She got a mani-pedi, she had Lorna at RJ Miller style her hair in a cute updo, and her blouse shows off both her cleavage and her midsection. Even Sterling and Colby gave her a compliment: “Total smoke-show, Mom.” But will she look as hot as Leslee?

As Sharon is walking down the driveway, she hears, “Hey, Sharon, wait up!” She turns to see Benton Coe jogging toward her.

“Well,” Sharon says, “if it isn’t the man of the hour.”

Benton scoffs. “I can’t believe I was invited. The Richardsons aren’t happy with how long it took me to finish.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t happy with how long it took them to pay me. If I had it to do over, I would have turned this job down.”

“Oh, really?” Sharon says.

“Leslee is a lot,” Benton says.

Isn’t she just,Sharon thinks.

“I know you know what happened years ago between me and Grace Pancik—”

“Ancient history,” Sharon says.

“It’s hard to live something like that down on an island this size,” he says. “And Leslee is such a touchy-feely person that I felt uncomfortable showing up here.”

“Well, I think you’re safe,” Sharon says. “At the last party, Leslee moved on to someone new.”

“Would you mind if we walked in together?” Benton asks.

“Not at all,” Sharon says. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

They reach the arched wrought-iron gate. “This is gorgeous,” Sharon says. “Is it antique?” The gate looks like it came from an English manor or a French monastery.

“It’s brand-new but fabricated to look authentic,” Benton says.

Sort of like the Richardsons themselves,Sharon thinks.

There’s nothing phony about the garden, however. Sharon admires the stone wall and benches, the bright bursts of color from the flower beds. And although she’s prepared to be underwhelmed by the octagonal hot tub, she has to concede that it’s magnificent. Can a hot tub be considered a work of art? It’s deep mahogany with a glowing cobalt interior, and the curved copper ladders are divine.

Coco approaches them with a tray of drinks; Sharon selects a French 75 and Benton takes a mule garnished with mint and fresh raspberries. “Cheers,” he says. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Sharon says. Only after she takes a sip of her drink does she allow her gaze to wander to the other guests. She was right—Leslee has moved on to someone new, only it’s not who Sharon expects. It’s Chief Kapenash. Leslee has him by himself on the far side of the hot tub, her arm through his. Sharon spies Romeo locked in conversation with Busy Ambrose. Serves him right, she thinks.

Romeo looks up at Sharon. His eyes flick over to Benton and he frowns. It is, unmistakably, a frown of jealousy. Sharon beams at him and waves. He nods in her direction and glares at Benton. Sharon couldn’t be happier.

The Chief decides to take advantage of Andrea’s absence and eat whatever he wants. Leslee basically forces a cocktail on him—the bourbon sidecar—and it hits just the right way. After a few sips, he feels like he’s floating. Zara Washington is going to excel as police chief, that’s clear only a few days in, and Ed will be able to relax for the first time in thirty-five years. He swipes a cracker through the pecan-crusted cheese ball that’s sitting on the bar, then indulges in a deep-fried olive stuffed with sausage. Andrea would definitely disapprove of these. Ed takes a second.

A server comes around with a platter of oysters Rockefeller, and the Chief remembers a party he attended as a teenager, his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was held at the Park Plaza in downtown Boston (his mother’s parents, the Bryants, were a good deal fancier than the Kapenashes). Ed was introduced to oysters Rockefeller, the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

These are even better. The oysters, the server says, were harvested off the fifth point of Coatue that very morning.

The Chief helps himself to a second oyster. Okay, that’s it, he tells himself. “I should go,” he says to Leslee.

“You just got here,” Leslee says. “And I went to a lot of trouble, so I can’t let you leave. Come on, let’s get you another sidecar.”

Eddie, trapped in conversation with Grace and Phoebe, sees Bull and Addison chatting by themselves. Eddie needs to join them, but at that second, Benton and Blond Sharon approach. Eddie watches Grace brighten at the sight of Benton; naturally she gushes with praise for the garden.

Eddie can’t keep himself from cutting in. “Congratulations on finally getting it done.”

“Eddie!” Grace says. “Everyone knows genius can’t be rushed.”

Sharon can’t believe the way Benton sticks by her side. He’s a barnacle on her boat. Romeo hasn’t taken his eyes off Sharon and Benton for even a second. Sharon thought she would have to battle Leslee for Romeo’s attention, but the only person vying for his attention now is Busy Ambrose.

Sharon has to admit, this party is a home run. Coco holds out a tray of buttered, baked saltine crackers; Sharon nearly laughs at the sheer WASPy-ness of it. Sharon’s own grandmother used to serve crackers like this to her bridge group. The music is snappy, and whatever they put in these French 75s is divine. Sharon hates to even think it, but when it comes to entertaining, Leslee Richardson has the magic touch.

Leslee has instructed Coco to keep the drinks flowing, but once everyone has a fresh cocktail Coco take a moment to observe. “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” segues to “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” It’s finally dark enough for Coco to light the tiki torches and press the button that brings the hot tub to life. The backyard is suddenly a vibe—everyone is drinking and laughing, the cheese ball has been demolished, the meatball dish is empty, colorful toothpicks are scattered across the high tables. Coco cleans up, then serves dessert: bite-size baked Alaskas and brownie cups that Leslee made herself. Coco heads back to the kitchen and gets a tray of brandy Alexander shots, meant to complement the sweets. When she returns, everyone is dancing to “Let’s Twist Again”—even the Chief! (Coco nearly takes a picture to send to Kacy, but that feels invasive.) Benton swings Sharon around; the two of them are really good dancers. Leslee doesn’t like anyone else taking the spotlight, so when the song ends, she calls out, “Hot-tub time!” She unties the strap behind her neck, and her dress falls to the ground. Ta-da! She’s wearing a bikini in the exact same print as her dress. Everyone cheers! Coco exhales relief; she worried Leslee might not be wearing anything under it at all.

Leslee directs everyone to the main house to change into their suits. Grace pulls Eddie along even though he wants to stay in the garden where Bull and Addison are talking. Are they one-upping each other with all the fancy places they’ve stayed—Aman this, Auberge that—or are they discussing business?

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says to Grace. “I forgot my…” But he doesn’t have to tell her what he forgot because she’s now ten feet ahead of him talking to Sharon and, yes, Benton.

Eddie races back to the garden and peers through the arched gate. Leslee lounges in the hot tub with her arms outstretched, cocktail in one hand, her head lolling back. Bull and Addison are talking so intently that Leslee could slip beneath the surface and drown and they wouldn’t notice.

There’s a narrow path that curves around the outside of the garden. Eddie beelines down it, nearly tripping on an irrigation pipe, until he reaches the spot where Bull and Addison are talking on the other side of the hedge. He can barely see them in the gathering dark, but he can hear them perfectly. He feels like a character in an Agatha Christie novel.

Bull says, “If we cut him out, we can split the pot fifty-fifty. That’s an additional four mil for each of us. Eddie just doesn’t seem to be on the same page—”

“He has a valid point about hiring local contractors,” Addison says. “After all, we live here year-round. A lot of the guys we’re talking about raised their kids alongside Eddie’s twins—and my son, for that matter.”

“But your son is heading to boarding school at Tiffin.”

Addison clears his throat. “Be that as it may, when it’s Thanksgiving Day and your uncle Shep accidentally flushes his beer can down the toilet and the thing overflows, it’s nice to have a local guy on speed dial.”

“Eddie tries too hard,” Bull says. “He’s a bit… inelegant.”

Inelegant?Eddie thinks. Bull is calling him inelegant? At least Eddie can match his top to his bottom; Bull is wearing a clown suit. Bull spills on himself, he shows off his money every chance he gets, and he lets his wife disgrace herself—and him—with other men.

“Doesn’t he come from a working-class background?” Bull asks.

“Eddie is from New Bedford,” Addison says. “He’s very proud of that.”

“He’s redundant,” Bull says. “You and I could do this deal without him.”

“We could…” Addison says. “But we signed a contract.”

“There’s a clause at the end, didn’t you see it? The terms of the contract can be changed right up until the purchase and sale is signed and I write the first check.”

“What?” Addison says. “I did not see that.”

Eddie didn’t see the clause either. He holds his breath, wondering what he can do. Bursting through the hedge and knocking Bull to the ground comes to mind, but that won’t help his cause.

“Just think about it,” Bull says. “Fifty-fifty.”

“I couldn’t do that to Eddie,” Addison says, and Eddie feels himself misting up. Addison has his back.

“Maybe you could, though,” Bull says.

When Sharon pops out of the powder room—she’s wearing a Lilly bikini, but it’s not vintage and it doesn’t match her outfit (advantage Leslee)—Romeo is waiting for her.

“Sharon,” he says.

“Romeo.”

They stare at each other. Romeo is wearing the same board shorts he wore when they went to Whale Island, which makes Sharon’s heart ache. Who’s Golden Girl? You are. She wants to jump into his arms, but he’s got his tough-guy stance, the one he uses when some ass-clown from the city demands to skip the standby line in the height of summer so he can get his Tesla off the island.

Does he want to talk? Is he expecting an apology? Because Sharon has called him half a dozen times and sent an embarrassing number of texts, all of which went unanswered. If anything, it’s now Sharon who deserves an apology.

At that second, Benton appears; he’s bare-chested and in a pair of Billabong board shorts. “Ready to tub?” he asks.

Sharon holds Romeo’s gaze one moment longer. Is he going to fight for her? No—though he stabs Benton with the daggers in his eyes.

“Sure,” Sharon says. “Let’s go.”

“It’s an eight-sided hot tub, not an eight-person hot tub,” Leslee says. “Come on, we can all fit. Coco, would you please make sure everyone has a fresh drink and then pass the brownie cups one more time?”

The Chief takes the last brownie cup and winks at Coco. “Don’t tell Andrea.”

“Everyone climb in,” Leslee says. She shows people where she wants them; she’s probably had the seating chart planned for days: Leslee, the Chief, Blond Sharon, Benton Coe, Grace, Romeo, Busy, Addison, Phoebe, and Eddie. Bull isn’t getting in.

“Hot tubs aren’t for big blokes like me,” he says. “I’m sweating my balls off just looking at you all.”

“I’d like to sit next to my wife,” Eddie says. “Benton, what if you and I traded spots?”

“Spouses are always separated,” Leslee says. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Addison is next to his wife,” Eddie says.

“Eddie,” Grace says. “Stop being weird.”

Is he being weird? Is it inelegant that he doesn’t want his wife sitting next to the man she had an affair with nine summers ago? He doesn’t want things to get “interesting.” The hot tub is bubbling and steaming like a witch’s cauldron—and it’s pretty clear who the witch is.

Sharon leans her head back against the edge. “This is heavenly, Leslee.”

There are murmurs of agreement, but not from Eddie. He would like to get out of this people soup and talk some sense into Bull.

Suddenly Romeo says, “Hands, Coe! Let me see your hands!”

Benton laughs and raises his palms. “Here they are.”

Swingers in the summertime,Coco thinks.

“Sharon, let’s get out of here,” Romeo says.

Sharon sits bolt upright. Is this happening? It’s a bit abrupt, maybe even rude, but she’s not missing her chance. “Okay,” she says. One of the copper ladders is directly behind her, so it’s easy to make a quick escape.

“Stay!” Leslee cries out. “Sharon? Romeo? Please don’t leave yet!” She sounds a little unhinged, even for her.

“We should probably go too,” Eddie says. “Right, Grace?”

“Don’t be silly,” Leslee says. “The party is just getting started. Coco, what happened to the music?”

Coco is pretty sure Bull turned the music down when everyone went to get changed. She turns it back up—it’s “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys. Leslee says, “Something better!” Coco scans the playlist and settles on “I Want You Back” by the Jackson Five. She hands Romeo and Sharon towels and they disappear through the gate and into the dark night.

The party is just getting started, the Chief thinks, but he should leave. He’s only had two cocktails and yet he feels funny, loopy. He’s lost all track of time, doesn’t quite remember getting changed—but wait, yes, he does. Leslee lent him a pair of Bull’s swim trunks. Why did he agree to that? He has broken all kinds of rules tonight. He had one of the baked Alaskas and a brownie—no, two brownies. Leslee encouraged him to take a second, saying she made them herself. Phoebe and Addison are here, his oldest friends, and as long as they’re here, he’s fine, right? He likes the music; the water is delightful. He’ll stay another five minutes. Busy seems to be asking him a question about Kacy: “Did she mention meeting my daughter?”

Did she?Ed wonders. He’s about to tell Busy that he hasn’t talked to Kacy in a day or two. And if he dug in, he would admit he hasn’t talked to Kacy in any meaningful way all summer. He’s not sure why she really left San Francisco.

Ed is jolted from these thoughts by a hand on his leg. Whoa! Is he imagining this or is it a trick of the water jets, the bubbles? No, there are human fingers stroking his thigh. He turns to see Leslee with her head back, her eyes closed. Her arm closest to Ed is beneath the water’s roiling surface. Leslee is touching the Chief’s leg.

Is there a split second when the Chief thinks maybe he’ll just let this play out, ignore it or… even enjoy it?

Absolutely not. The Chief stands up, splashing Leslee in the process, but he doesn’t care, he’s leaving. He cheated on his diet tonight. But he hasn’t cheated on Andrea—in mind, body, or spirit—since the day he noticed her waiting in line to get her beach sticker. And he never will.

As he clambers out of the tub, Addison says, “Ed, where are you going?”

“Home,” Ed says. He takes a towel from Coco. God only knows what she thinks of him cozying up next to her boss in the hot tub; what was he thinking? Well, he wasn’t thinking, or not clearly. Something is wrong with him.

The brownies—the ones Leslee made herself. They must have been pot brownies, and that’s why Ed feels this way, so loose, discombobulated. He snatches up his clothes and goes. He doesn’t bother saying anything to Bull and hopes never to see the man again, but if Ed were to leave Bull with parting words, they would be Your wife needs help.

He climbs into the back of his car and changes into his clothes, which is a tricky business, as he’s soaking wet and still high. He finds his cell phone and calls Andrea.

“Please come get me,” he says. “I can’t drive.”

“You’re kidding,” Andrea says.

“Not kidding,” he says. “Bring Kacy with you, please, I need to get my car out of here.”

“On our way,” Andrea says. “I was wondering where you were. I worried maybe Leslee got her claws into you.”

It’s a little scary how on the nose she is. “No chance of that,” he says. “I’m all yours. Now please hurry.”