Bull brings Leslee a sarong from Indonesia. It’s made of the finest silk, Leslee brags to Coco, it’s the highest quality of batik. Coco has to admit the sarong is gorgeous, with swirling shades of green from jade to seafoam. Leslee googles six ways to tie it, all of which look fabulous on her.
But, she complains to Coco, she has nowhere to wear it. This combined with the forecast of rain on Sunday leads to the conception of the Day-Drinking in Denpasar party.
OMG, Coco thinks. She’s throwing another party.
Leslee calls Zoe Alistair: Can she whip up an Indonesian feast for thirty people by Sunday?
Yes! It just so happens that Zoe vacationed on Senggigi Beach in Lombok the winter before. She can definitely make that happen.
Leslee takes the theme and runs with it. She unearths all kinds of treasures Bull has brought back from Southeast Asia over the years—carved masks and shadow puppets from Jakarta, strings of colorful paper lanterns from Hoi An in Vietnam—and she asks Coco to decorate the party room with them. She downloads Balinese gamelan music. She buys enormous bouquets of tropical flowers—birds-of-paradise, frangipani, hibiscus.
When Leslee sees what Coco has done with the party room, she gushes, “You’re a genius!” Coco filled the room with pillar candles, strung the Vietnamese lanterns and Japanese parasols from the ceiling, and created a showpiece of the spirit house that Bull brought back from Bangkok. The spirit house is a small-scale temple intricately carved from teak, and Coco (after considerable research) fills it with traditional Buddhist offerings: incense, a dish of water and of food (Coco cuts up an Amalfi lemon from the brand-new shipment, sorry-not-sorry).
Leslee places a cool hand on Coco’s cheek. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
What is going on here? Coco wonders. Leslee has never said anything like this. Can Leslee read Coco’s mind? Does she know that Coco has contemplated both desertion and murder?
“I want you to enjoy this party,” Leslee says. “The cocktails are going to be extraordinary. Feel free to sample them.”
After her big night out with Kacy, Coco can’t imagine drinking again, but she’s intrigued by this offer. “Should I still wear my uniform?”
“Yes, yes!” Leslee says. “Obviously, you’ll still be working.”
The rain starts late Saturday night as forecast and continues into a gray and dreary Sunday, and after a long, hot, humid string of days, it’s the perfect morning to sleep in.
By the time all of us arrive at the Richardsons’ house, the day has deteriorated even further. The sky is filled with ominous clouds, and the wind whips the harbor into a froth. We park our various vehicles along the white-shell driveway and navigate the puddles to the grand entrance of Triple Eight, where we shed our boots and jackets and hand Coco our dripping umbrellas.
“Welcome!” Coco says. “Head upstairs. Your hostess awaits.”
Stepping into the party room is indeed like entering another country, Delilah thinks. The room glows with candlelight and colorful paper lanterns; the air smells of ginger and sandalwood. Lilting gamelan music plays over the speakers. Leslee’s wearing a green batik sarong; she has pearls strung through her hair.
Andrea leans over to Delilah and whispers, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I kind of want pearls in my hair too.”
Delilah agrees. Her only nod to the theme was securing her bun with two takeout chopsticks.
“Selamat sore!” Leslee says. “Welcome, and please help yourself to a drink at the bar.”
There are four large-format cocktails to choose from: lychee mai tais, mint ginger gin fizzes, lemongrass margaritas, and Singapore slings. Delilah wants one of each. It’s better that Jeffrey isn’t here; he can’t monitor her intake, so she can drink as much as she wants, and Ed will drive her home. She starts with a margarita and garnishes it with a stick of lemongrass. She sees Phoebe and Addison arrive, Phoebe in a cute embroidered silk jacket and white palazzo pants. Delilah realizes she should have made more of an effort with her outfit. Busy Ambrose is wearing a kimono and has done something very interesting with her eye makeup.
Romeo from the Steamship joins Delilah in pouring a margarita. “Gotta love self-serve cocktails,” he says with a wink. “I’m about to teach a master class in day-drinking.”
Delilah sees Leslee coming toward them. Delilah should chat with her about the food pantry donation, but it turns out Leslee isn’t interested in Delilah.
“Romeo!” Leslee says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on both cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re here. Where’s Sharon?”
“Sharon and I are no longer a thing,” Romeo says and Delilah thinks, Oh no! They were the cutest match.
“In that case,” Leslee says, “come sit by me.”
Delilah rolls her eyes. Seriously? Delilah is on a mission, however, so she reaches out for Leslee’s arm. “Thank you for the invite,” she says. “Listen, before things get too crazy, I wanted to follow up on—”
“Hey there, Delilah,” Leslee says, then laughs. “That should be a song.” She takes Romeo’s arm and leads him to the sofa, calling over her shoulder, “The buffet will be ready in a little while.”
Blown off in Bali, Delilah thinks. But this might not be a bad thing. Delilah will wait until Leslee’s looser, then ask about the money. Leslee will probably be so embarrassed that she forgot about her pledge, she’ll pull out her checkbook on the spot, and Delilah will call Corwin tomorrow with the news.
Phoebe approaches and gives Delilah the up-down. “You didn’t dress up?”
Delilah turns her head. “I put chopsticks in my bun.”
“Leslee has pearls in her hair, have you seen? So fabulous.” Phoebe helps herself to a lychee mai tai. “I’m definitely having this. What is a lychee, anyway?”
Leslee has done it again, Delilah thinks. By next week, every woman will be wearing pearls in her hair and special-ordering lychees from Pip and Anchor.
Eddie, Addison, and Bull have convened at one end of the Lucite bar, Eddie and Addison with the mint ginger gin fizzes (They go down way too easily, Eddie thinks) and Bull with a Tiger beer. “I can’t handle the hard stuff during the day, especially not as jet-lagged as I am.”
“That’s right,” Addison says. “How was the trip overseas?”
Bull says, “It was mostly business but I did spend an afternoon spearfishing off Nusa Lembongan.”
“Phoebe and I love Bali,” Addison says. “People say Ubud is overrun but we can’t get enough.”
“My trip this past week was a little more bare-bones—I didn’t want to run up the expense account or set off alarms with the IRS,” Bull says. “But if you ever get a chance to stay at the Amandari, it will not disappoint.”
Eddie has no frame of reference for any of this. Last September, he and Grace went to Italy. Grace pulled their entire itinerary off Instagram, which meant a lot of preposterously expensive alfresco lunches under grape arbors overlooking the Mediterranean and a lot of Italians giggling at Eddie’s long, baggy swim trunks, but sorry, he wasn’t about to wear a banana hammock. What the pictures didn’t show was the stress Eddie felt about spending so much money and Grace’s whining at the end of the week because she’d gained ten pounds.
Thanks to this trip, Eddie considers travel overrated, although he wishes he could contribute something to this douchey conversation. He finishes his gin fizz and says, “Addison tells me you priced off-island contractors for our project. I know they’re less expensive, but for cost-value, the guys we use here on Nantucket are better.”
Bull dead-eyes him. “Come on, mate, it’s a party,” he says. “Let’s not talk business.” Just as Eddie is feeling like a squid—it’s a terrible habit of his to talk business wherever he goes—someone across the room snags Bull’s attention. “I can’t believe that bastard had the nerve to show his face here,” Bull says. Eddie turns around to see none other than Benton Coe walk into the party room. The first person Benton greets (with a longer-than-necessary hug) is Grace. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Bull says. “That bastard isn’t getting a step further until I have a little chat with him.”
