In this sleepy suburb just south of Salt Lake City, hundreds of men and women recently descended upon one of the hottest, most competitive and nerve-wracking social scenes in the state. They came in their best cars, littering an overcapacity parking lot with double-parked BMWs and Corvettes, and strutted into a bright and airy building in crisp suits and colorful dresses. Steve Rinehart worked the room, which had the look of a large, converted high school basketball court with rows of folding chairs. He circled the aisles, scoping out the women and peering over shoulders for friends.
