Serena was set to show up and Maggie encouraged her to bring along any refugees from the Winthrops’ more civilized party who wanted an escape to a more casual event. That nice couple from Brooklyn—Connor the architect and David the shoe designer, whom Liza had invited to stay at her house for the entire month of July at the last minute—offered to bring lobsters, which was a relief because Maggie couldn’t afford them. (She’d put the meat and the gourmet brownies on her father’s house charge at Spic & Span, hoping her sisters wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t notice, or wouldn’t mind once they saw the bill.) At Maggie’s insistence, Raj invited two colleagues from Yale, newlyweds Nina and Devon, who happened to be staying in a rental in town, because she wanted a few more witnesses and because it was clear that Raj and Tricia had something going on. Maggie was all for it and wanted Raj to feel like one of the family. Tim was coming because he’d been fired for stealing twenty pounds of frozen shrimp and a bottle of Scotch from his restaurant job and she really did need someone to grill the tri-tip. (“It was a barbecue for everyone from work. I thought they wouldn’t mind,” Tim explained to Maggie, who could totally see his side of the story.)

Maggie knew she was making some mischief by inviting Gray and not telling Liza, but that was the point of the whole evening: unexpected fireworks. Cap was set to swing by for drinks with Anders. They were a maybe for dinner, but Maggie was certain that once they saw the lobsters and Tim on the grill, the two gentlemen would stay and be there for her announcement.

Maggie cranked up the music, and it blasted through the house as she started to set the table with her mother’s silver that she had also unearthed in the attic. Whatever her father was trying to hide, Maggie was determined to set free.

“What the hell, Maggie?”

Liza had pulled her into the library, away from the ears of the other guests who were mingling on the patio. About a dozen people in various shades of red, white, and blue sipped sangria and ate the complicated cucumber-and-crabmeat canapés courtesy of Connor and David, who had taken over Liza’s kitchen while she was at the gallery doing last-minute prep for the show opening the next day. She’d stopped at home and changed into a white halter jumpsuit she’d bought on a whim, getting a toast of approval from her houseguests (“Here’s to our own Julianne Moore!”). Liza was thrilled David and Connor’s summer rental in Westport had fallen through at the last minute, thanks to a burst pipe and a flooded basement.

They jumped at the chance to spend a few weeks in Southport, unsuspecting of the true reason for Liza’s invitation: diverting conversation and chaperones. With the two of them around, she wouldn’t slip up and beg Whit to come home or Gray to come over.

Liza arrived at Willow Lane in a decent mood, determined to enjoy a relaxing night with family and friends, one that she didn’t have to plan, a tiny miracle. Then Gray showed up, in jeans and a blue shirt, undeterred by their conversation the other day at the gallery. He walked straight over to Liza, giving her a kiss on the cheek while the others watched. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

Liza was not amused and was ready to blame Maggie for her sudden turn of mood. “Why did you invite Gray?”

“Because, because he had nothing to do.”

“Why is that our problem? He’s a grown man. He can entertain himself.

Honestly, Mags, it’s hard enough on the Fourth without the kids and Whit.

And Dad. The stress of the show tomorrow. I’m down already. I can’t deal with Gray. Why are you even in touch with him?”

“He’s an old friend and he’s lonely.”

Liza didn’t believe that was the only reason. She sensed that Maggie was interested in Gray herself because he was exactly the sort of man Maggie attracted: handsome, damaged, and selfish. Throw in “involved with

another woman” and that sweetened the pot for her. In this case, the involvement was years ago, but still, it was textbook Maggie. Her attention to detail, from her outfit to the place cards on the table, made it clear that she had something up her sleeve.

Liza also believed that Serena was a factor. Maggie’s Open-Heart Policy, as Tricia had been calling it behind her back, was taking off in unexpected directions. It was Liza and Serena who had spent nearly all of the last forty-eight hours together, getting the gallery ready for the show, writing the press releases and artist statements, finalizing the guests, and reaching out to a whole new list of people who Serena suggested. Liza had welcomed her help and found that as she got to know Serena, her admiration, maybe even affection, for her had deepened.

It was Serena whom she told about Whit, the separation, his affair or whatever he might call it with his colleague. She confessed about the moment she nearly texted Gray, but instead texted Connor and David to come to Connecticut for the month to act as her minders. She had confided all this to Serena, not Maggie, not Tricia. Serena seemed like a clean slate, somehow, who had a connection to her, but not any baggage. Had Maggie noticed? Was she jealous? Was that really why she had invited Gray?

“Are you interested in Gray? Or is this some type of payback?”

“Payback? No. And why would I have Tim here if I was interested in Gray?” Maggie lied.

“I don’t understand why you would do this to me. Gray hurt me. And that pain changed my life. Is that clear? He’s not some cute guy I used to make out with in the old rowboat and now that memory has faded into ‘great to see you at the reunion’ status. Gray nearly destroyed me. I’m not happy to see him for old times’ sake. Please stop with the ‘healing.’” Liza even used Maggie’s signature air quotes. “This is not something I want healed.”

Liza was wrong. Maggie had done some growing up. If she hadn’t, the conversation in the library would have become a confrontation with yelling, stomping, and a fuselage of accusations and grievances from the past. But not tonight. Maggie was in control and wanted to stay that way. “My mistake. I didn’t realize it was still that raw for you. I get that now.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you to make it through one night with Gray so I don’t have to throw him out like Dad did? I’ll be your best friend.” Maggie resorted to a childhood phrase to evoke Liza’s cooperation.

Liza shook her head. “You make me crazy, Mags.”

“You could use some crazy.” The two sisters headed back to the party, temporary truce in place. “Oh my God, did you see Tricia’s potato salad? It looks disgusting.”

Serena wandered around through the crowd refilling sangria glasses and introducing herself to new faces as “the former neighbor.” She hadn’t been in Connecticut in quite a while for the Fourth and she had forgotten how the town embraced the holiday. Fourth of July was Southport’s Super Bowl.

The day had been a picture-perfect Fourth, warm and humid with cotton-ball clouds in the sky and a breeze all day, so the shoreline teemed with sea kayaks, paddleboarders, windsurfers, and small fishing boats. Sailboats, big and small, streamed out and back into the harbor after a day of regattas. The annual bike parade through the Village to the library featured well-groomed children in red, white and blue madras shorts or sundresses riding scooters or bicycles decorated with streamers and balloons. Dogs wore star-spangled bandanas. There were flags on every flagpole, even patriotic bunting on a number of houses. The first of the hydrangeas and roses were in bloom.

There was a decorative wreath on every door. Fathers were organizing the legal fireworks they’d bought from stands along the Post Road and the illegal ones they purchased in Chinatown on their way out of the city. Inside the houses, the matrons of Southport were preparing the Fourth of July feasts with blueberry muffins and a haul of steamed lobsters that would be carted to the beach or the boat, complete with tablecloths, centerpieces, and citronella votives, in anticipation of fireworks later that night.

Standing on the patio, Serena could hear the band from the country club across the water playing a classic Stones song and the shouts of children on the beach in an organized Capture the Flag game. It brought back vivid memories of her own childhood, memories that didn’t involve the Sweeneys at all.

For the past few weeks, Serena had been focused on the parallel lives she and the sisters had led and what she had missed out on. So much so that she’d almost forgotten the best moments of her own upbringing, like the long, sweet, salty Fourths when she’d spend all day at the country club, playing in the family tennis tournament, competing in the pool games like Greased Watermelon, and then changing into her blue-and-white sundress for dinner on the beach, fireworks, and maybe a game of hide-and-seek in

the lockers with Pierce Janssen or that cute Teague Palmer. She wondered if she would ever be able to square the fact that she was both Serena Tucker and Serena Sweeney.

Over the past few days, Serena experienced what it was like to have sisters, to be a sister. Helping Liza at the gallery became two days of intense bonding. No one was more surprised than Serena when Liza confirmed what Lucy Winthrop had said. Liza and Whit were separated and prospects were very hazy, if not grim. “He waited fifteen years to tell me he didn’t like my family. I wanted to scream that sometimes I don’t like them, either.

But I was too tired to argue,” Liza told her.