Grace had been president for six years and had hosted the Sunset Soiree in her own yard years earlier at their old house, on Dover Street. The Sunset Soiree was a fabulous event, and for all the years Grace was involved, she had brought Madeline as her date.

But this year, she thought, she would take Benton.

She called Madeline to see what she thought.

“What if I took Benton to the Sunset Soiree?” Grace asked. “Would you be mad?”

Madeline was silent, but in the background, Grace could hear the sound of her pen scratching against paper, as well as the hum of her laptop.

“I won’t be mad,” Madeline said. “I like the Sunset Soiree just fine. The gardens are pretty, the food is good—but it’s really your thing.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m ditching you for Benton,” Grace said.

“That’s not the problem,” Madeline said. “The problem is you being seen in public with Benton.”

Yes, Grace had considered this. And yet, she really wanted to venture out in the wider world with Benton. The island was four miles wide by thirteen miles long; they couldn’t exactly go to dinner at the Ship’s Inn or walk the Sconset bluff hand in hand. The Sunset Soiree was a garden-club function, Benton was her landscape architect, and they had something to jointly brag about. Grace couldn’t wait to tell Jean Burton and Susan Prendergast and Monica Delray about the Sunday Boston Globe! The Sunset Soiree would be a safe and appropriate place for her and Benton to go together.

“I’ll ask Eddie’s permission,” Grace said. “I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“I’m sure he will say yes,” Madeline said. She sighed. “But you know how those women talk, Grace. Remember how Blond Sharon made such a big deal when Monica showed up in the mismatched Chanel flats? She accused Monica of being drunk when she got dressed, and three days later, everyone had her checking in to Betty Ford. Those women are vipers. They’re ruthless. If you go with Benton, they’ll have a field day with it.”

“Blond Sharon can kiss my ass,” Grace said.

“You can do what you want,” Madeline said. “But, as your best friend, I have to tell you, I would feel much better about you going with Benton if the two of you weren’t…”

“I know,” Grace said. And she did know. But she didn’t care. She wanted to go to the Sunset Soiree with Benton. She wanted to have fun.

That night, she broached the topic with Eddie.

“You don’t care if I go to the Sunset Soiree with Benton, do you?”

“What’s the Sunset Soiree?” Eddie asked.

“The garden-club thing.”

He waved a hand. “Have at it,” he said. “As long as I don’t have to go.” He ran a Bremner wafer through butter. His heartburn had been so bad recently, he’d told Grace, that he could barely eat anything else.

Grace asked Benton the following morning. “Would you go as my date to the Sunset Soiree?”

His face lit up. “I’d love to,” he said.

“It’s at Jean Burton’s house,” Grace said.

“Koi ponds,” Benton said.

Grace kissed him and grinned. She could not believe how in sync they were.

He said, “I’ve gone before, you know, four or five years ago, when it was at Jody Rouisse’s house? Marla Amster took me, back when I was designing her gardens.”

“You went with Marla Amster?” Grace said. “Now I’m jealous.” She tried to remember that year. Jody Rouisse lived out in Shimmo. Yes, Grace remembered going with Madeline. She remembered the garden. In Grace’s opinion, it had been lackluster: a lot of decorative grasses, with only one flower bed, and perennials that had been grouped by color; Grace had felt as if she were looking at a paint-by-numbers. But she didn’t remember seeing Benton. She couldn’t believe she had overlooked him. Now, he was all she could see.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” Benton said. “I wasn’t in love with Marla Amster.”

In love! In love! In love in love in love!

As soon as Benton left, Grace ran upstairs to call Madeline.

There was only one dark spot in Grace’s week. On a late-night run to the Stop & Shop to get more butter lettuce and farmer’s cheese and other lunch provisions, Grace saw a red sports car in the parking lot—with a girl inside who looked a lot like Allegra. The girl was kissing the blond boy in the driver’s seat.

Grace nearly knocked on the window. Allegra? But then she thought better of it. If she were wrong, it would be bad, but if she were right, it would be even worse. Grace hurried into the store.

EDDIE

The last week of June, Eddie had a group from Kasper Snacks renting 10 Low Beach Road. Kenny Kasper had been referred to Eddie by Ronan LNW, and he had asked about having the girls come by over the course of the week. Eddie had said, “Let me see if I can make that magic happen.”

The girls were basically working nonstop, and they had started to spend their money. Nadia had bought a barely used lime-green Jeep out of the classifieds for cash. Eddie said, “You don’t want to flash the money around, Nadia, or people will start to ask questions.”

He couldn’t let anything mess up their situation. He was too dependent on the cash. At this point, it was his only steady source of income. He had one rather underwhelming listing on High Street in town that he had shown to the same couple four times—but in the end, they had passed, instead buying a significantly nicer home on upper Main Street from none other than Glenn Daley. Eddie had shown a seven-million-dollar house on Eel Point Road to a gay couple who had made an offer of five-five—but the owner had flat-out refused to even counter, and the couple wouldn’t go any higher, saying that Nantucket was outrageously priced and they were going to look on Martha’s Vineyard and Block Island instead. And two sisters who owned a four-million-dollar parcel of land on Hulbert Avenue—that Eddie had not one but two potential buyers interested in—had just pulled it off the market.