Oops, she thinks. She’s not sure how to backtrack.

Bull whistles out a breath. “Yeah, it’s bad. I have to downplay it for Leslee because she immediately jumps to the worst-case scenario and we’re living in a van down by the river.” His phone dings. He checks the screen, then sighs. “I’ve been found out.” He sets his shoulders back and says, “How do I look?”

Coco is close enough to pin a boutonniere on him.

“You look very handsome,” she says truthfully, patting the front of his shirt.

He eyes her mischievously for a second. “I’m tempted to change into some blue and orange. That would make Leslee spit the dummy.”

“Yes, it would, mate,” Coco says.

Bull chuckles. “You’re okay by me, Coco.” He disappears down the hall.

Coco takes an ice cube and rubs it against her forehead. Her phone dings: ICE!!!

A spoon chimes against the side of a glass and we gravitate to the pink-and-white-striped tent, where the grazing board has been replaced by a dinner buffet: pyramids of lobster rolls and beef tenderloin sandwiches, platters of fried chicken, a colorful assortment of fresh salads. Standing before the food is Bull Richardson. Where did he come from? Has he been here all along?

He waits for us to quiet, then says, “Leslee and I would like to thank you all for coming to our new home. We look forward to making… well, at least a few summers’ worth of memories before this place falls into the sea.”

We laugh—the forbidden topic has been addressed. As the sun sets over the water and the waves lap up onto the Richardsons’ sugar-cookie beach, as we reach for our second (or third) cocktail or bite into buttery lobster rolls while Sean Lee serenades us with “Pink Houses,” even those of us who thought that buying the place was foolish have to admit that, on a night like tonight, it feels priceless.

Fast Eddie has been wondering all evening how he and Addison are going to manage to get a moment with Bull Richardson to discuss the Jackson property without anyone else around (for Eddie, anyone else means Grace). But Eddie needn’t have worried. Addison Wheeler, whose nickname has long been “Wheeler Dealer,” is as smooth as they come. He approaches Grace and Eddie just as they finish eating, puts a hand on Eddie’s back, and says to Grace, “Can I borrow your boyfriend for a moment?”

“Of course!” Grace says. A flush the same color as her Laurent-Perrier rosé starts on her cheeks and cascades down her neck into the cleavage displayed by her dress. “I’ve been wanting to mingle.” Grace heads over to the table where the landscape architect Benton Coe is sitting. Normally this would send Eddie into an apoplectic fit of jealousy because of Grace and Benton’s long-ago affair, but tonight, this is exactly what he needs. Grace will be occupied long enough for Addison and Eddie to talk to Bull.

There’s more good luck—when Bull sees them coming, he excuses himself from a conversation with his boat captain, Lamont Oakley.

“Hello, gentlemen, good to see you,” Bull says. They all shake hands and pound backs, and Addison comments on how beautiful the spot is, incomparable, really. Then, wasting no time, Addison goes on to say that Bull obviously recognizes a good business deal when he sees one, which is why he and Eddie are coming to him with an opportunity that recently fell into their laps: six waterfront acres on the southeast shore, the last parcel of its kind, and the owner is fine with dividing it into three lots.

“She’s priced the lots ridiculously low,” Eddie says. “We were going to advise her to raise the price—”

“But then we thought we’d buy them ourselves, build, flip, and make buckets of money,” Addison says. “Now, we could go to the bank—”

“Or I could be the bank?” Bull says. His tone of voice and facial expression are inscrutable and Eddie worries they’ve come on too strong. But it turns out there’s no such thing with the Richardsons, because Bull says, “The idea intrigues me. Let’s talk on Monday, shall we? Come up with a plan of attack?”

Yes! Eddie thinks. He practically skips back to the party, where people have started dancing. Eddie finds Grace still at Benton’s side.

Eddie says, “Hate to interrupt, but I’d like to dance with my wife.”

As Eddie leads Grace on to the dance floor, he says, “What did you and Benton talk about?”

“Oh,” Grace says. “Nothing, really. What did you and Addison and Bull talk about?”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Nothing, really.”

When Sean Lee slows things down and plays “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd, Romeo asks Sharon to dance. He’s been by her side most of the night and she’s learned a lot about him. Such as he was in the Merchant Marine for twenty years before coming to Nantucket to work for the Steamship Authority. He’s never been married though he does have one son, age twenty-five, who works on one of those fishing boats in Alaska that you see on the reality shows. Sharon is intrigued; everyone in her hometown of New Canaan worked in tech, VC, or private equity. It’s arousing to talk to a man who knows about engines and water draw and weather patterns. He considers himself an amateur psychologist—half the battle of loading and unloading cars from the Steamship is dealing with the personalities behind the wheels.

Romeo is also an entrepreneur; he owns a whale-watching charter business up in Provincetown. It has made him enough money that he was able to buy his own twenty-two-foot Grady-White.

“It’s nothing like that sexy beast,” he says, pointing to the Richardsons’ speedboat, Decadence, which has been hiding behind Hedonism. “But I’d love to take you out for a boat day sometime.”

“Anytime!” Sharon says. “I’m free as a bird this summer.”

Romeo spins her around—on top of all his other charms, he’s a skilled dancer—and Sharon is left literally and figuratively breathless.

When Lee finishes the song, he says, “That’s a wrap for me for tonight, folks. The Richardsons would like everyone to enter the door of the summer porch and head upstairs to the party room for dessert and dancing.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd as we gather our things; it’s time to see the inside of Triple Eight.

Sharon is tempted to whip out her phone and take a video for TikTok, but she won’t be that person. (Someone who is that person, however, is Dr. Andy’s wife, Rachel. She has her phone out and is narrating: “A rare peek inside Triple Eight Pocomo.”) Sharon and Romeo move around Rachel, enter the octagonal screened-in porch, go down a hallway with a black-and-white floor, and walk up one side of a grand double staircase.

The party room is bathed in pink light. Glass canisters filled with pink candy are lined up along the Lucite bar. There’s a pink-chocolate fountain with strawberries for dipping, and servers pass cones of pink cotton candy.

Sharon notices there are fewer guests; the people still here are those who like to have fun. DJ Billy Voss has set up in the corner and he’s brought his drummer, Joe, with him; Joe will play along with every song, making it feel like there’s a live band in the room. The first song is “Crazy in Love,” and all the women—and Romeo—hit the dance floor. Sharon loves that Romeo is secure enough in his masculinity to dance to Beyoncé.

Just then, Sharon’s watch sounds an alert. It’s her Dexcom app, which monitors her son Robert’s glucose levels. Robert’s blood sugar is spiking.

No! Sharon thinks. Robert is, unfortunately, spending the night at Baxter Morse’s house, and although Robert knows better, he’s probably had not only soda but candy. Baxter’s mother, Celadon, keeps baskets of Snickers and Twix around the house as though every day is Halloween.

Sharon sends Robert a text: Your sugar! He may have to give himself an insulin shot, something he hates doing.

“I have to call my son!” Sharon shouts to Romeo over the music. She twirls her finger. “I’ll be right back!”

Romeo follows Sharon outside to the octagonal deck. It’s quiet here, and cool, with a breeze coming in off the water. There’s a crescent moon in the sky. It would be the most romantic spot on earth if Sharon’s son weren’t in the middle of an urgent health situation.

When she calls Robert, it goes straight to voice mail. Next, she calls Celadon. Voice mail. Robert’s blood sugar is at 280; Sharon won’t be able to relax until she talks to him.

“I’m afraid I have to go,” she tells Romeo. “My son has type one diabetes, he’s at a sleepover, his blood sugar is through the roof—”

“I’ll go with you,” Romeo says. “Let me drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Sharon knows she should decline this offer. Surely Romeo wants to stay—this is the party of the summer and it’s just getting started! But he looks at her earnestly, and before she can say, It’s fine, I’ll go alone, he’s made a decision. “We’re leaving right now.”

On the other side of the deck, Sharon sees Kacy Kapenash, Lamont Oakley, and that girl, Coco, who works for the Richardsons. Sharon approaches them and tells Coco, “Would you please tell the Richardsons that Sharon and Romeo had to leave but that we loved every second of this grand soirée and we’re so grateful to have been included.”

“I’ll tell them,” Coco says. “And don’t worry. There will be a lot of parties this summer.”

A few of us notice Sharon and Romeo leaving and we think, Sharon, what are you doing? The best is yet to come! Sharon bumps into Rachel McMann on the stairs and explains about Robert’s blood sugar. Of course we understand, and we think how sweet it is that Romeo is going with her. We’ve never thought of him as a lover before—but then again, his name is Romeo.

When DJ Billy Voss plays “Hot in Herre,” Leslee makes her entrance. She’s wearing a new outfit: a skintight metallic-pink jumpsuit and a pink wig. We all scream our delight, then notice Leslee’s personal concierge, Coco, handing out pink wigs. In the next moment, Coco steps behind the bar and starts mixing up shots of something called tickled pink. Those of us who throw the shots back wonder if there’s something in them other than alcohol because suddenly we’re at an eleven on the dance floor. “Stacy’s Mom” comes on, and Busy Ambrose, the Field and Oar’s commodore and one of the most staid and proper women we know, is in the center of the dance floor, pink wig atop her matronly bob, shaking her booty because she has a daughter named Stacy and she has always secretly believed this song to be about her.

Fast Eddie throws back not one but two tickled pink shots and he doesn’t protest when Grace fits a pink wig over his head, not even when he sees Rachel McMann taking videos of everyone on the dance floor. Eddie and Grace sing out to Icona Pop, “I don’t care! I love it!” They’re pogoing around like a couple of crazy kids in a mosh pit. This is exactly what their marriage needed and they didn’t even know it.

The Chief lets Andrea pull him onto the dance floor when Billy Voss switches to an ’80s medley, though he turns down the offer of a tickled pink shot (he’s the chief of police, after all) and he will not wear a wig. Addison is wearing a wig; he’s always been the life of the party. Jeffrey, however, is stuck to the curvy white sofa like a straight pin in a cushion; he’s drinking ice water and probably thinking of how he has to get up in six hours and tend the fields. Phoebe is smack in the middle of the dance floor, her long pink wig swaying as she dances with Leslee Richardson. The Chief blinks—Phoebe is wearing a new outfit as well, a white leather minidress. When did she change? Billy Voss plays “American Girl” by Tom Petty. Phoebe and Leslee shriek and throw their arms around each other. Another woman in a pink wig—the Chief belatedly realizes it’s Delilah—storms off the dance floor. Or maybe she needs the ladies’ room.

Delilah rips off her wig and tosses it down the stairwell. Her head instantly cools (wigs aren’t meant for people with as much hair as she has) but her temper is still blazing. She slams into the Richardsons’ powder room, irate at how fabulous it is (dove-gray wallpaper patterned with pussy willows; a silver glass column sink that glows from within), and collapses on the toilet.

She’s drunk, yes, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that Phoebe has become Leslee Richardson’s… groupie! At dinner, Delilah, Andrea, and Phoebe were looking for a place to sit, but then Phoebe peeled off and took the open seat next to Leslee. When everyone else went upstairs to the party room to dance, Leslee invited Phoebe—and only Phoebe—downstairs to the primary suite to, she said, “change.” When Phoebe reappeared, she was wearing a dress she’d borrowed from Leslee and she stank of weed.