“Would you like me to attain a hose?” I asked. “Or a watering can?” An oyster shucker with three silver buckets clipped to her belt arrived beside us, helped us choose between Sweet Jesuses and East Beach Blondes. “I can hide on the third floor and sprinkle you.”

“I’m just saying!” Hope snatched two of each kind. “Unpredictable rain ruined Celerie van Vick’s feline alopecia awareness fundraiser in `96. But did Susie listen to me? As always, no.”

I changed the subject between slurps of oyster, all mineral sea and sweet vinegar. “How late do you think this party will go?”

“Don’t think we’ll be burning the midnight oil,” J.P. said, declining the shucker’s offerings. He wasn’t a fan of shellfish, inconvenient for a resident of the City by the Sea. “It’s mostly filled with Susie’s friends.”

“They were my friends before Susie even moved here,” Hope huffed. “I introduced her to most of them! Isn’t that right, Cassie?”

“Let Susie have `em,” I said as I handed my empty mignonette-drenched shells back to the shucker.

I now had a clear view to the other side of the veranda thanks to the thinning crowd; Maggie spotted me and smiled, though she didn’t break off from her conversation with a group of bright young things, including a guy who looked like one of her Lincoln Center friends judging from his posture and the turnout of his feet. He wore a queenly interpretation of a classic tuxedo—black sequins, platform heels, a dramatically long cigarette holder. Circling around them was a model in feathers and gold beads; her hoop skirt, which seemed to be supported by wheels, wasn’t made of fabric but instead contained rows of etched champagne coupes. It wasn’t as though my sister and I didn’t talk while I was away, or that I wasn’t privy to this wealthy and glamorous part of her life—I followed her on social media, after all—but seeing the proof of it in front of me while I was wearing a drugstore watch was a different type of sensation.

“Come on.” Hope pulled on J.P.’s sleeve. “Did you see the chairman of the Preservation Council over there? I have some things to say about that house for sale on Ocean Avenue.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Chicken!” my father called as Hope marched him away. “We’re so happy you’re home safe.”

With my nice cocktail napkin with the embossed crest I supposed Susie was trying to make happen for herself, I wiped drops of perspiration from the side of my glass, from between my breasts, then looked across the lawn. From the corner of my eye, by the illuminated rectangular lap pool and its Palladian cabana, I swore I could make out the form of a goat, tearing Susie’s potted pink flowers hungrily apart.

Chapter 4