The sundress was candy striped, with straps that crisscrossed in back and a long, flippy skirt. It was my best summer dress, and I liked the way I looked in it, at least, if I decided not to think about my patchy farmer’s tan. My red sandals gave me another inch of height. I ran a comb through my hair and pinned part of it back from my face. Aaron had remembered earrings, god bless him, had even brought two pairs for me to choose from. I decided on the long silver drops and nodded at myself in the mirror.

When I went back to the kitchen, the others stopped talking.

“Don’t you look nice,” Viridian said, admiringly.

“Thank you. Aaron’s here, he brought me different clothes. Can I help with something?”

How did Barb and Chloe look? They looked all right, I guess. They’d both gone in for large scale, abstract prints, like they might have bought their outfits in an art gallery.

I was put to work setting out the rest of the bar, the glasses and ice bucket and cocktail napkins, the tongs and corkscrew and saucers of olives and almonds. I wasn’t part of the kitchen conversation, but I could overhear it.

“What does Larry drink?”

“Whatever he wants. He’ll bring his own bottle.”

“That’s rude.”

“No, that’s just Larry.”

Somebody, Barb or Chloe, murmured something, and Viridian said “No, not a bit, and please don’t say anything.”

“I’m glad Sacha’s coming. She’ll keep things cheerful.”

“I assume Anders is coming with her. Talk about bringing your own bottle.”

Someone, Viridian I think, shushed them, and there was some giggling. I wished I knew everybody they knew. I wished I knew all the jokes.

Viridian came out then and I asked if there was anything else I could do.

“I don’t think so, dear. I’m going to lie down before anyone else gets here. Calm before the storm.”

“Of course,” I said. She was smiling, but there seemed to be some effort in it, as if she was already tired. “Everything’s under control.” Then, quickly, “If you’d like, I can come back and do some work in the yard. Anytime you want.”

“Could you? That would be lovely.” She patted my arm. “What would I do without my young friends.”

I heard her light footsteps receding. She’d called me a friend. Even if “young friend” might be something other than a real friend, some lesser subcategory, or just a way of speaking.

The front door slammed, and Oscar rushed past me into the kitchen. “Hags! Get away from my food!”

I hurried outside to find Aaron. Perhaps things were not entirely under control.

Aaron was poking around in a galvanized pail full of ice. The oysters, presumably. “You do clean up nice,” he said when he saw me. “How long are these guys supposed to cook?”