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.”