Page 26 of Swan Song

“Then we spent a few weeks in St. John. We’ve never really done summer on the East Coast—we’ve always gone to Europe.”

Please, Delilah thinks, say something more obnoxious. What are they doing with this woman?

“But this past year we decided we wanted to give up our wandering ways and put down roots. Buy a house, make it a home. Lucky for us, Triple Eight Pocomo was on the market.”

“So lucky,” Phoebe says and again Delilah bumps Andrea’s leg. Is it so lucky that in a few years, the Richardsons are going to be living in a pineapple under the sea?

Meaghan arrives with the wine. Hallelujah, Delilah thinks.

They raise their glasses and Phoebe says, “Welcome, Leslee!”

Delilah smiles but says nothing. Leslee hasn’t done anything wrong but Delilah (stubbornly? childishly?) doesn’t want to welcome her. She doesn’t like the way Phoebe is fawning all over her, and is it not obvious that this woman is glomming on to Phoebe because she wants something? She’s a social climber, and the three of them are the rungs.

“What made you decide on that particular house?” Andrea asks. Ha! Delilah thinks. Andrea is tough with the questions today; Ed should put her in the interrogation room.

“The view, obviously. And the history. When we googled it, we saw it had been featured on the cover of Architectural Digest.”

It was Town and Country, actually, Delilah thinks, but why split hairs?

“But the thing that really sold me was the upstairs party room. You’ve heard about it? It was designed by Jennifer Quinn, the last Nantucket project she did before she started Real-Life Rehab and became a celebrity.”

“I have,” Phoebe says. “There was an article in the Wall Street Journal a few years ago about Nantucket homes with bars in them, and Triple Eight was featured.”

“We are going to host so many parties,” Leslee says. “And you’re all invited.”

“We love parties,” Phoebe says.

They do love parties, especially Delilah. Back when all the kids were growing up, Delilah’s house was where everyone gathered. At the end of every summer, she threw a lobster-and-rock-anthem party; the counter of her kitchen island was reinforced with steel plates so Delilah and her friends could dance on it. She hosted everyone during hurricanes and blizzards. She concocted signature cocktails and popped popcorn on the stove and made hot chocolate from scratch.

But now that Drew and Barney are grown, the parties have slowed down. Way down. It might be nice, Delilah thinks, to let someone else entertain for a change. Especially at Triple Eight Pocomo. Delilah thinks buying the house was foolish, but the fact remains that it’s a beautiful house. Delilah has seen it only from the water, though she’s dreamed of standing at the railing of that octagonal deck, champagne flute in hand.

When Meaghan comes to take their order, Leslee says, “I’d like the bacon cheeseburger, rare, with fries and a side of mayo.”

“Wow,” Delilah says. “I had you pegged for a slutty vegan.”

“Delilah!” Phoebe says.

Leslee laughs. “It’s a joke. Slutty Vegan is a restaurant chain. I’ve been to the one in New York.” She winks at Delilah. “You guessed wrong—I love meat.”

Delilah warms to Leslee just a bit—but no, she won’t be seduced. She isn’t easy, like Phoebe, who in an obvious attempt to change the subject asks Leslee if she plays pickleball.

Yes, Leslee plays pickleball. In fact, she’s played with “Julie, the over-fifty champion.” Bull isn’t much for the game, and he’s too busy besides. Delilah wants to ask what Bull’s business is (would this be rude?) but she can’t get a word in edgewise because Leslee is exclaiming about how she would love to be their fourth. She pulls a tissue from her Goyard bag and dabs away happy tears. She’s just so touched; she can’t believe how lucky she is to be making such wonderful friends.

Delilah nudges Andrea’s leg again. Is this an act? She’s on her third glass of Sancerre, so she can’t really tell.

Delilah leans forward and says, “So where are you and Bull from?”

Leslee laughs like an audience member on a late-night show and says, “Bull comes from the Land Down Under, which is obvious the second he opens his mouth.” She looks around the table. “I’ve barely asked you ladies anything about yourselves.”

This, Delilah thinks, is true. She wonders what kind of advance billing Phoebe gave them. Did Phoebe define them by their husbands? (Delilah’s husband, Jeffrey, owns Sea View Farm. Andrea’s husband, Ed, is the chief of police.)

Andrea clears her throat. “Delilah serves on the board of the Nantucket food pantry.”

“Nantucket Food, Fuel, and Rental Assistance,” Delilah says, though everyone calls it the food pantry.

Leslee brings her hands together as if in prayer. “You’re a do-gooder!” She makes it sound like she’s opened her front door to find Delilah in a Girl Scout uniform selling Thin Mints. “Phoebe has my email. Just send me the link. I’d be happy to read up on your cause and donate.”

“I used to do a ton of philanthropy before I had Reed,” Phoebe says. “I’ll have more time for it next year once he goes to boarding school.”

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