Delilah is glad Phoebe said it.
“Well, I’m here to shake things up!” Leslee says. “Phoebe and I will play together.”
Delilah opens her mouth to speak, but what can she say? We invited you to play with us! You aren’t allowed to shake things up!
Phoebe shrugs. “Sounds good,” she says. “Sorry in advance.”
Delilah is heated—both physically (the court they’re playing on is in full sun) and emotionally (Is this happening?)—and decides to take her aggression out on the court. They flip a coin to see who serves first; it’s Leslee and Phoebe. Fine, fine. Let’s go.
Leslee serves, Delilah returns, then it’s tit for tat until Delilah does the predictable thing and hits to Phoebe’s weak side.
“I told you I suck,” Phoebe says. It’s now Delilah who serves and Leslee who returns. There’s a little volley, and again, Delilah hits it to Phoebe’s weak side. Candy from a baby, she thinks. One, nothing.
The game could go on that way—Delilah knows how Phoebe will handle any given shot—but where’s the fun in that? Delilah lightens up, lets Andrea take some shots. Then there’s a volley where Leslee gets dangerously close to the kitchen; in fact, in one shot, her right foot is squarely in the kitchen while she’s volleying, and as Delilah is wondering if she should call her on it, Leslee aims a shot right at Delilah’s face.
Whoa! Delilah raises her paddle and deflects the ball, but they lose the point. Leslee and Phoebe tap paddles. Everyone realizes that was dirty, right?
Phoebe serves; Andrea returns, and again Leslee smashes the ball, aiming for Delilah’s face. “What the hell?” Delilah says, but Phoebe and Leslee have their backs turned and are walking toward the baseline.
“Easy,” Andrea whispers, which only serves to infuriate Delilah more. How about some team solidarity? Why does Andrea have to talk to her like she’s an ill-behaved kindergartner?
Delilah will not take it easy. The game gets way more aggressive; the volleys are intense, and Leslee really pushes how close she comes to the kitchen when she volleys. Delilah has to admit that Leslee is a good pickleball player. Delilah had half suspected her of posing.
The score is 8–8–2, then 9–8–1. Delilah is drenched in sweat but she is bound and determined to win. Andrea and Phoebe are just furniture; this is a game between Delilah and Leslee. Delilah charges into the kitchen to return a ball; she needs the serve back, but the ball goes wide. Out.
Now it’s 10–8–2. Match point.
Leslee serves, Delilah returns, there’s a volley. Leslee hits it to Andrea, Andrea cupcakes it over to Phoebe, and, in a rare show of skill, Phoebe hits it to Delilah, who wallops it at Leslee, who is standing in the kitchen, but instead of letting it bounce, she volleys it back, and Delilah lets it sail past her.
“Our serve,” Delilah says to Andrea at the same time Leslee says, “We win!”
Delilah turns around. “What? No. You aren’t allowed to volley from the kitchen.”
“I wasn’t in the kitchen,” Leslee says.
“You most certainly were,” Delilah says. She looks to Andrea for backup but Andrea is already walking toward the net to tap paddles with Phoebe. “It’s our serve.”
“Let’s just call it a game,” Phoebe says. “It’s hot. Who wants to come swim in my pool?”
“Me,” Andrea says.
“That sounds heavenly,” Leslee says. “Thank you for inviting me to play today.” She reaches across the net to tap paddles with Andrea. Delilah is standing in the middle of the court, hands on hips, feeling as indignant as John McEnroe at Wimbledon in 1981. You cannot be serious! Delilah let the other infractions go—they were ambiguous; was one of Leslee’s feet in the kitchen? Hard to say—but during match point she blatantly volleyed while she was in the kitchen. It’s cheating!
Never again, Delilah thinks. Never again are we inviting this woman to play pickleball with us.
“Delilah?” Phoebe prompts. “Swimming?”
Delilah would love nothing more than a dip in Phoebe’s pool but she won’t voluntarily spend one more second with Leslee Richardson. As she’s about to decline, Leslee says, “You can all help me plan our Fourth of July fireworks party aboard Hedonism. I want it to be smaller than the Pink and White Party. More exclusive.”
Delilah is about to inform Leslee that they always watch the Fourth of July fireworks on Steps Beach, but she knows that will be futile. Leslee is throwing a party aboard her fabulous yacht, and of course the others will want to go. Of course Delilah wants to go. She has long dreamed of watching the fireworks from out on the water.
“Swimming sounds good. I need to cool down,” Delilah says as, grudgingly, she taps Leslee’s paddle. Apparently, they’re stuck with this woman.
20. Thursday, August 22, 9:30 P.M.
The Chief’s phone rings—Lucy Shields, the harbormaster.
“I’ve ordered the chopper out of Woods Hole,” she says.
“Thank you, Lucy.” He turns to Zara and Lamont. “Coast Guard is sending out a chopper.”
Lamont looks skyward. “I wish they would take me with them. I could find her; I know I could.”
The Chief looks at Zara. Is she thinking what he’s thinking? “We should probably go talk to the Richardsons,” the Chief says. Maybe Zara is right and he should step away from the investigation, he thinks. He had hoped never to speak to Leslee Richardson again.
“I have another idea,” Zara says. She takes the Chief’s arm, leads him away, lowers her voice, and says, “Let’s talk to Kacy first.”
“Kacy?” he says. “She wasn’t on the boat.”
“But they were friends. Close friends, Dixon said.”
“True.”
“A woman tells her girlfriends everything,” Zara says.
Ed flashes to Andrea whispering with Phoebe and Delilah at Ventuno. “Good point.”
They find Kacy right where they left her, but her facade has cracked—tears stream down her face, her hair has slipped from its chignon, her nose is running. Ed considers calling Andrea and asking her to come; this is a girl who needs her mother. Kacy looks up, wipes the tears from under each eye with a manicured fingernail, and sniffs. “She’s somewhere. That’s the thing. She’s somewhere.”
