Tricia nodded. “And then Maggie gets ahold of a few specialty cocktails and announces it to the world.”

“Only David and Connor seemed to be enjoying the moment because they appreciate family drama,” Liza said. “I hope they don’t call the dozen journalists they know with the scoop. I’ll talk to them.”

“At least she found the memoir,” Tricia said, flipping through a copy to make sure it was genuine. “How many copies did she make?”

Cap did a quick count. “Ten.”

Liza and Tricia started to laugh. None of this was funny, but it was a relief. “She was going to hand them out like candy, consequences be damned. Let’s hope that Nina or Devon haven’t already tweeted this out on literary Twitter, despite Cap’s plea.”

“Yes, I was going to hand them out.” Maggie appeared at the door. “I don’t understand why this has to be some big secret.”

“Did you even read the book?” Tricia asked, pretty sure of the answer.

“Do you have any idea of what’s even in it?”

“I didn’t have time. I was finishing my painting and planning this party.

And anyway, the news is full of reunited children and sperm donors. These stories happen every day now. Seriously. Let’s tell ours. Why not?”

Cap stepped in. “Maggie, dear, in this case, we really don’t have the right. Or, should I say, rights. This book belongs to Allegory Publishing.

The estate owes them this manuscript. Of course, you can tell anyone you’d like about Serena, but I do think it’s wise to consider the timing for all involved. And, of course, you should consider Serena’s wishes. She has many people in her life affected by this admission.”

“I’m sure she’s relieved for it to be out there.”

“I’m sure she’s not,” Liza said. “I’ve gotten to know her over the last few days and I can tell you that she is a private person.” No one could make Maggie feel more regretful than Liza. She could pare down all of Maggie’s big ideas to tiny whims.

Cap came to Maggie’s rescue. “You’ve made these copies and the people in this room should read the memoir before handing it over to Allegory. We should all know what’s in the book for many reasons, but certainly so that we can anticipate any repercussions. I believe that’s the best course of

action. And, Maggie, thank you for finding this. You did a wonderful job at that.”

Cap had a way with Maggie; he was the Crazy Whisperer. “I guess. But I do think Serena should get a chance to read the book along with us.”

“Oh, so now you’re really concerned about Serena, after you outed her as a Sweeney,” Liza said. “She deserved consideration, Maggie.”

“So, let her decide what happens next with the book,” Maggie suggested, having a limited grasp on the importance of the memoir.

“No.” Tricia couldn’t hold back. “Serena is not one of us. She has no say in this.”

Just then the dogs came bounding into the room. Everyone turned and saw Serena standing in the doorway, face fallen. She announced, “The dogs seemed upset by the fireworks. They wanted to come in. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Serena . . .”

Serena wasn’t having it. “No need to explain, Tricia. I get it. I’m not one of you—that’s for sure. I don’t laugh easily. I don’t have the same memories. I don’t tell stories like you all do. For the past few weeks, I’ve tried to understand where I might fit into your lives, but never once have any of you asked about where you might fit into my life.”

Maggie started to protest but Serena was not done. “I’ve had a rough few months, too. My whole world has flipped upside down and inside out, but here on Willow Lane, you seem mainly concerned about how this all looks for you, for your family and your father, without a single expressed concern for me. I have a professional reputation to protect, too. I sit on the boards of several charities. I have a father in Florida right now and he has no idea about what’s coming—that one of those lovely party guests may blow his whole world apart tonight!”

Then Liza tried to jump in, but Serena was angry and in no mood to listen. “You have your lives and each other and your magical iconic parents.

Now that you’ve found the manuscript, the legal and financial troubles will fade away. Yes, I figured out that the advance is gone, the house sale will barely cover the tax bill, and there is no grand William Sweeney Estate. But don’t worry, because once this book comes out, Bill Sweeney will be a hero again and you will always be his daughters. I have none of that. So, you’re right. I’m not a Sweeney sister.” With that, she exited the library and bolted down the hall toward the front door.

“Nice, Tricia,” Liza sneered. “Serena, wait.” Liza bent down to grab one of the manuscript bags and headed out the door to catch her. The dogs went with her.

Maggie piled on. “Way to go, Tricia.”

“I meant legally, Maggie. Serena has no say in anything to do with Dad’s intellectual property legally, either the memoir or anything else he’s ever written. Sure, we can be cordial and let her read it ahead of publication, but she doesn’t get to, quote, decide what happens with Snap,” Tricia tried to explain. “I know consequences aren’t really your thing, Mags, but there are a lot of question marks about this manuscript. For starters, it could be badly written, a crappy half-effort to fulfill the contract. Or damaging beyond belief to Dad or to Mom. Have you thought about that? There is a scenario by which we don’t hand over the manuscript to the publisher and instead we pay back the advance from the sale of the house to protect Dad and the family. That would be a decision you, me, and Liza make. Not Serena. That is all I meant.”

“It didn’t sound that way. Not to me and obviously not to Serena. It sounded truly bitchy.”

“Stop it, Maggie. This is all you. You created this scene tonight. Your sense of drama wanted a production, when a normal person would have kept this news inside the family. What’s the rush to let the world know what a lousy father and husband William Sweeney was? His flaws are known to the world—the drinking, the gambling, all the things that male artists get away with because that’s part of the package. But screwing the neighbor and then abandoning the child you fathered isn’t at all charming. I’m not advocating whitewashing the truth, but I, for one, would like to know what the truth is before flaunting our flaws to Tim the Line Cook.”

“Serena’s right. You don’t care about her at all.”

“Yes. You’re right. I’m the thoughtless one.” Tricia knew what she really wanted to say but held back, because there were some words and phrases the sisters never used with each other, as if crossing that line was the gateway to permanent disharmony.

“Let’s all take a deep breath,” Cap advised. “The good news is that we have a manuscript we can evaluate. We should all read it and then decide the best way forward. Agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Cap continued, “And now we have to do damage control with your guests. This secret won’t stay secret for long now. This is an irresistible truth and it will get out.”

“That was my goal all along,” Maggie said as she sashayed out of the room.

Cap looked at Tricia. “This will work out.”

“I’m not trying to make a saint out of him, Cap. But I don’t want him to be trashed. Or our mother.”

“I understand. And Serena?”

“I know we have an obligation to her, but we don’t owe her our entire past. Maybe my father did or her mother, but it’s not up to me, Maggie, and Liza to provide context to her life. It’s possible there’s a future that includes Serena, but she has no right to our past.”

“I’m going to speak to the guests again.” Cap picked up one of the bags with the manuscript inside. “A little beach reading. Should we meet Monday morning with our notes and plan our next steps? I’ll have coffee at the office.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there.”

Later, Tricia sat in the library alone, listening to the nonstop booms of the grand finale. She knew that she had lied to Maggie. Sure, the law was on her mind, but not entirely. Serena wasn’t one of them.

Liza caught Serena in the driveway, about to throw her car in gear and pull out of Willow Lane. The fireworks boomed in the distance, only partially visible over the roof of the house. Serena lowered her window to talk.

“Please, Liza, don’t even try to apologize.”

“I can’t. You’re right. We haven’t spent a minute thinking about your life.

We’ve been self-absorbed brats. We need to do better.”

“I think it’s best if I take a few days for myself.”

Liza knew Serena was right, but still, she had an agenda. “Take the book.

Read it and call me. Tricia doesn’t speak for all of us,” Liza said, leaning into the window and tossing the bag in the back of the Range Rover.

“Please come to the gallery opening tomorrow night. If you decide you’d like to really go public with this information, you can announce it to the crowd.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Please, Serena.” Liza meant it.

Serena’s phone buzzed and out of habit she looked at it, despite the heaviness of the moment. “My God, no.”