Zanne stood on the terrace, enjoying a rare moment of solitude as soft light tiptoed over the Santa Monica Mountains and birdsong trilled from the sycamores. She couldn’t have imagined when she joined the personal staff eight years ago that it could ever be this quiet here. It hadn’t been easy this morning tearing herself away from her new girlfriend, still curled up under the covers, to be the first to arrive at the estate. But today, Zanne was Ted Stabler’s acting chief of staff. Twelve hours from now, this terrace would be teeming with people, and right here at the top of the steps, Holly Stabler would give her hostess speech at the party.

It was a scene worthy of the cover of Architectural Digest. The terrace was paved with lantern-shaped terra-cotta tiles and stepped down to encircle a long, rectangular swimming pool. The pool had a plaster bottom that was painted black, and looked like a mountain lake where fauns and sprites might bathe, a far cry from the Pomona Y where Zanne had learned to swim. Around it, there were gatherings of lounge chairs and tables, each vignette sheltered by a canvas umbrella dyed a custom shade of fern, and beyond that, a high brick wall that shielded guests from the staff spaces on the other side. Purple bougainvillea overflowed the planters, and jacaranda blossoms honeyed the air. On the far side of the terrace, outside the wisteria-covered pool house with its retractable walls, were a fire pit and a pizza oven and a soda fountain where the children loaded up their sports bottles on hot summer days with orange La Croix, lemon San Pellegrino, root beer, and chocolate syrup. The place was already perfect for entertaining, and yet, in a few hours, the entire head count of Panache Parties would descend on the Stabler estate, and together with the personal staff’s events team, they’d transform this oasis into an adult playground where Hollywood’s highfliers would rub elbows, make deals, and raise money for Bump to Pump, Holly’s favorite charity.