Or maybe she did have a secret life, like Maggie suggested. “Oh, I wouldn’t say we found the memoir. That’s a stretch. We found some pages that we’re taking a look at. We’ll let you know next week if there’s anything there.

They could simply be nonsense, an aborted effort. You know how my father wrote, Lois, tossing out thousands of words before settling in on a final draft. That may be the case here.”

“We have a William Sweeney scholar from Yale evaluating the material.

Raj Chaudhry. Very bright guy,” Cap added, playing off Tricia expertly.

Tricia looked up at that moment to see Raj mingling amongst the crowd refilling glasses of Chablis and chatting with her Aunt Frannie.

Lois was not appeased. “I have stuck my neck out time and time again for your father. Now that he’s gone, I’m not inclined to get my head chopped off. William Sweeney would have faded into obscurity without me. I made him relevant again. I have a reputation to protect. I hope you both understand me. Whatever those pages are, whatever that guy from Yale says, we need to turn something in to Allegory by the end of the month or they will file suit. Then they’ll want to see all your father’s papers, everything, so unless those pages are grocery lists, I suggest you release them to the publisher without these lousy stall tactics.”

Tricia took a deep breath. She had been right all along about Lois being insincere, not a genuine believer. The meal ticket was dead and she was done. That gave Tricia immense satisfaction and courage. “Thank you for letting us know where you stand, Lois. Tonight is my sisters’ night and we’re done talking to you about my late father’s legacy. Rest assured, by the end of the month, this will all be settled. Believe me, you won’t be required to stick your neck out any longer for one of the great writers of his generation. You can go back to repping celebrity cookbooks and all those exercise guides from reality TV stars. Now, if you’ll excuse, my aunt is here. I’m going to say hello.”

Tricia walked away thinking, I can be mean in a good way, too.

Cap bowed, signaling the end of the conversation. “Good night, Lois.

We’ll be in touch.”

Maggie caught her breath when she saw Serena and Gray come through the door together. Oh my God, this is getting complicated. But then she spotted Lucy Winthrop attempting a grand entrance behind Serena, pausing in the doorway, raising her chin and giving a little wave as if she were walking the step-and-repeat at a gala. No one noticed Lucy’s entrance but Maggie, much to Lucy’s chagrin, who looked right through Maggie and covered her embarrassment with some manufactured waves to imaginary friends in the back of the room. Please don’t let me become like that in my old age, thought Maggie.

Maggie motioned to Serena, who worked her way through the thinning crowd, Gray by her side. She was still suspicious of the two of them together, but she tried to let it go and gave Serena a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. What a crowd. Oh, Maggie. It looks amazing now that it’s completed. Really lovely.”

“It’s special, Mags.” Gray gave her a warm embrace, a warm brotherly embrace. Maggie knew right then that last night with Liza was real and whatever happened with her was not. “I’m going to take partial credit.”

“Why would you take partial credit, Gray dear?” Lucy Winthrop joined the circle, focusing her attention on Gray and ignoring Maggie again. “Oh, look, it’s the Dumbarton place.” Lucy moved in for a closer look and to inspect Maggie’s technique. Even she had to admit, the painting was evocative.

“Yes, you recognize it. Maggie captured the view from my parents’ house at sunset, Mrs. Winthrop,” Gray explained just as Liza arrived in the vicinity. She’d come to welcome Serena and hadn’t noticed Gray standing there. Now she was trapped.

“Of course. Your parents hosted so many gathering for Deke, I recognized it right away. It’s what you see from your porch looking across the harbor to the houses on Sasco Hill. Panes of Gold. Yes, you captured it,” Lucy Winthrop said, reading the information and then looking Maggie up and down, not sure what to make of her tangle of hair and necklaces.

“Hello, Liza dear. What a charming little event.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor for you to make time for Sweeney Jones.” Liza nodded to her guest, who clearly felt she was distinguished. Then she looked at Maggie for confirmation. “I thought you said this was the view from Perry Park?”

“Close to that.” Maggie tried to brush it off. “Look, Serena’s here.”

“Yes, I see.” Liza reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, but stayed on task. “The Cunningham house isn’t close to Perry Park. It’s a half mile down Harbor Road.”

“Well . . .” Maggie said, as a way of explaining nothing. She was always at her worst when she was backed into a corner; lashing out was her exit strategy. “It’s a harbor view. Why does it matter exactly which vantage point? I was having dinner at Gray’s and the sun was setting and the windows lit up like panes of gold. And I painted it.”

“I see. Good to have the full story,” Liza responded coolly, looking from Maggie to Gray and back to Maggie again. “Maybe the two of you can split the payday. Meeks & Beauregard bought the painting for a client. Panes of Gold will find a happy home in East Hampton. The new owners said they’d love to have you out to the house for the installation. Congratulations, Maggie.” There was little joy in Liza’s voice. “I’ll break out the champagne. Excuse me.”

Gray followed Liza, leaving Serena and Lucy to wonder what they had witnessed, although they had a pretty solid idea. Lucy, back on top of her game, remarked, “There’s nothing like a sister to really make you feel special.”

“What is wrong with you? You come back to town and it’s not enough to romance one Sweeney sister, you have to go for the majority of Sweeney sisters?” Gray had followed Liza into her office to explain. There was no escaping the hum of the party, but at least no one could see Liza’s face. She was struggling to pull this whole charade off: the dead father, the missing husband, the random sister. She could not handle one more complication.

“Please leave me alone.”

“Nothing serious happened between me and Maggie. A kiss or two.”

“Oh, a kiss or two? That’s not nothing to me.” Liza leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms. She wanted to seem as unreceptive as possible.

“There was a moment when I thought something might happen between Maggie and me. I felt conflicted, so I asked her to leave. She’s the one who suggested you might be interested in my bowls. She’s why I came in here that night. Then you and I had a conversation and I knew it wasn’t Maggie I was interested in. It’s you, Liza.”

“Then why would she lie to me about the painting?”

Gray shrugged. “You know Maggie better than I do.”

It was true. She did know Maggie. And, if Liza was honest with herself, she would admit that what Maggie and Gray did was none of her business.

They were single, she was the married one. She was the one with obligations. “Gray, I need a lot of space right now. Like years of space.

There’s nothing between us except some sexual residue. I can’t act on that now or ever. I have too much going on in my life.”

“I get it. But I wish it wasn’t true. I thought with Whit gone, I might have a chance.”

“And that’s why you came to the Fourth of July party? For me and not for Maggie?”

“Yes, for you,” Gray said, moving closer to Liza. Liza froze, unsure of whether to close the gap between the two of them or turn away. She couldn’t get the way she felt with him last night out of her head. She wanted more of that in her life. She took a step.

There was a knock on the door. It was Tricia who popped her head in, like Liza had asked her to do. “Hey, Liza, you’re needed out here.”

Gray understood, nodded at Liza, and walked past Tricia. “Don’t worry.

I’m leaving.”

“You okay?” Tricia asked.

“Give me five. Thanks for the backup.”

“I wasn’t lying. You are needed. Your in-laws are here.”

Lolly Jones stood straight and tall, in a beautiful Escada silk tunic and white pants, an ensemble that Liza had seen her mother-in-law wear at many events over the years, as she was a believer in the Spending Money on Statement Pieces school of dressing. It always looked lovely on her. She was reaching out to Maggie, one hand on her sister’s arm, clearly expressing admiration for her painting. Whitney Jones Sr. stood holding two glasses of wine, waiting patiently to give one to his wife. As Liza made her way through the crowd, Lolly looked up and smiled at her, then lowered her chin and shook her head slowly. She had heard, through the grapevine or from her son himself. In a way, Liza was relieved.