Some of the husbands were playing corn hole on the other side of the lawn. A couple of Brooke’s children were wandering through the party, although the hope was that they would be safely ensconced in the media room before any of the behavior got really bad, especially the youngest, Taylor, who was in the group of girls with our daughters. We all feel it is important to set a good example for the younger generation.

We wondered where Rebecca and her Mystery Guest were—neither had arrived.

The sun began to move lower, bringing with it the sense not just that the day was coming to a close but that summer was as well. We could feel just the very slightest hint of chill in the air, and we remembered that in July the sun set a full hour later than it did now.

Steam started to rise from the pool, the way it does when the water is warming up just as the air is cooling down. It gave the whole yard an otherworldly look.

And then Sherri Griffin walked in.

Okay, we almost didn’t recognize Sherri. For one thing, she was blond! A bright, bright blond. Very well done, we decided, once she moved under the lights and we could get a good look at her. (Was it an Interlocks blond or a Shanti blond? We divided almost immediately into two camps.)

Then there was the way she walked into the party. Some of us were reminded of the scene in The Devil Wears Prada when Andy is walking down the street in New York City with this badass attitude and all of these gorgeous clothes, sprung from her mousy demeanor. It was kind of like that. Others of us thought about Grease, when Sandy puts on that black number and the red shoes and struts her stuff and sings “You’re the One That I Want.” It was a total transformation. Total.

Then there was her dress. We were shocked by that too. Looking back we weren’t sure we’d ever gotten a good look at Sherri’s body. Even at barre class (that one time) she wore something shapeless. Nobody wore shapeless clothes to barre class, so hers stood out—that’s why we remembered. Not because we’re judging. But anyway, we had no idea that she’d been hiding a rocking body under those bad clothes all summer. No idea.

(How was that possible? We live in a beach town. Had we never seen her in a bathing suit? Had she never been in the water? Hadn’t we met her for the first time at surf camp, way back in June? We spent so much time quietly cataloguing each other’s bodies for pounds lost or gained, lines emerging or erased, eyebrows that needed more or less shaping—how had we missed this body?)