“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?”
