The Sweeney Sisters

by Lian Dolan

  “Why is Tricia late? She’s not working, is she?”

  “No. She and Raj are running the Turkey Trot.”

  “Poor Raj.” The annual 5K race had been going on for forty years in Southport, a Thanksgiving tradition. Tricia had reached the podium five times over the years in various age groups, starting at age twelve. She was in it to win it, not burn calories in order to eat more pie.

  “I know. He has no idea.”

  Maggie made herself a cup of tea, like she had a thousand times. “Are you sad? First Thanksgiving without Dad?”

  “Yes. The holiday makes me think of both of them, Mom and Dad.” In the days when Maeve was healthy, Thanksgivings were epic affairs with family, friends, and grad students showing up with potluck items and touch-football aspirations. There was lots of wine, of course. After dinner, there was a talent show with everything from terrible magic to poetry recitals. It took all weekend to clean up the mess.

  “Me, too.” Maggie watched Liza move around the kitchen, the dated maple cabinets and brown countertops newly turned to white-on-white in what Liza referred to as “a touch-up, not a renovation.” She pulled the serving dishes out and lined them up, ready to be filled with whatever side dishes arrived. Maggie would have waited until five minutes before dinner to organize serving platters, but not Liza. She needed to start paying more attention to the kinds of small details that Liza paid attention to. “So, guess what? I’m pregnant.”

  “Victory!” Tricia came into the kitchen with her arms raised. Raj followed behind humming the Olympic fanfare. He was proud of his girl. “First place, Women Thirty to Thirty-eight. After a five-year drought, I’m back on top. It’s good to be the youngest in a whole new age group.”

  “Is that the real reason you moved back here? To win the Turkey Trot?” Maggie asked.

  “One hundred percent. Who needs to be a partner in a big New York law firm? I am a three-time Turkey Trot champion.”

  “I can confirm that she has been secretly training. I think my excellent pacesetting made a difference, at least for the first five hundred feet until she dropped me.” Raj let the cat out of the bag and Tricia pretended to be mad. So far, the closest Tricia and Raj had come to a genuine row was a disagreement over the finest Dr. Who. They seemed to be in a couple bubble that disharmony couldn’t penetrate.

  Maybe it was because Tricia looked and felt like a different person than six months ago when she took the phone call from Liza in the stairwell of her office in Manhattan. After Labor Day, Tricia had gone back to Kingsley, Maxwell & Traub for two weeks and felt the joy drain out of her body, hour by hour. She was snapping at strangers, short with her sisters on the phone and her summer tan faded back into a color that could only be described as Midtown Mud. The moment Cap offered her the opportunity to replace him at Richardson & Blix, now Richardson, Sweeney & Blix, Tricia knew it was the right move. The money would be less and the high-profile clients would be fewer, although Cap had a few surprising boldface names amongst his clientele. It was the pace and the location that lured her back to Southport. She was unwilling to live a life in Manhattan without regular sailing, running, and, of course, Raj. She never would have guessed she’d be so satisfied at a small firm in her hometown, doing everything from wills and trusts to real estate law. The boathouse was the icing on the cake.

  When Tricia took in the scene, two sisters at the kitchen table, it was clear something deep was happening. “Raj, do you want to see if Tim needs any help?”

  “Ah, yes. My cue. See you anon,” Raj said formally as he made a slight bow and exited through the new French doors Liza had added to the kitchen, to “open it up a bit.” The view of the backyard to the water did, indeed, open up the space.

  “What’s up?”

  As soon as Raj was out of earshot, Maggie announced, “I’m having a baby. With Tim.”

  “That’s so great. I’m so happy for you both.” Tricia gave Maggie a deep hug, then retracted. “Are you happy for you both?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. It was planned! I planned this.”

  “Really?” Tricia had to ask because, as usual, Maggie’s timing was backward.

  “Yes, we did. After spending the summer here, I realized that it was time to create my own family. I liked being part of all this again. I’d been away for so long, I’d forgotten how special this could be. Being here when the twins came home from camp, fixing up the house for Liza. I liked being part of that and so did Tim. We’re nervous, but we’re happy, very happy.”

  August had been like family camp on Willow Lane. Once it was a done deal that Liza would be moving back to their childhood home, fix-up began. Tim was employed as a handyman/house painter/grill master working on small tasks like replacing the doors that had been stuck for twenty years and making various tacos a few nights a week for dinner. Maggie painted canvases and walls, both under Liza’s encouragement. Tricia, still on sabbatical from her real job, went full press on finding a home for Snap in Hollywood and impressing Leo when he insisted on coming to see them, instead of vice versa, because he wanted to see where William Sweeney wrote. Serena came over most afternoons, after writing all day, to swim and have dinner. Lolly had taken to dropping by a few mornings a week to walk the dogs with Liza or play Scrabble with her grandchildren at the kitchen table.

  The twins spent long days at the house, Liza having given up entirely on micromanaging their summer schedules. There were no mandatory tennis tournaments or math-refresher classes. They sailed with Tricia and did their summer reading with Serena, who downloaded audio versions of the books, much to the twins’ delight. The three of them would listen as they played on the beach. Fitz hung out with Tim, learning to hammer a nail, use a level, and rewire a lamp. Vivi spent hours in the studio with Maggie, working on a collection of macramé plant holders that had a surprisingly sophisticated vibe. “I’m going to take a few of these for the gallery and we’ll see how they sell,” Liza said, alluding to her new interest in housewares. It had renewed the sisters’ faith in family, maybe Maggie most of all.

  Liza and Tricia did their job as sisters and asked all the right questions about her health (“No nausea, but tired and craving red meat”), how far along (nine weeks), and the sex of the baby (“Tim doesn’t want to find out. He said it’s like watching the last ten minutes of the movie first. I’m okay with that.”). Then, Tricia asked, because she had to, “And can you still take your antidepressant safely?”

  “Yes, and I will. I have a good therapist in Mill River and I’m eating well and not drinking. I’m back to yoga, which has been an important piece of my wellness plan. I feel good, all the way around. I want to be a good mother.”

  “You will be.”

  “Is Tim ready to be a father? He’s young.”

  “He turned twenty-seven. Not that young. And he’s from a big family with lots of nieces and nephews. He’s ready.” Maggie knew her sisters wanted some sort of explanation or assurance that Tim and the baby were all for the best. In the past, she might have dug in and defended her actions instead of explaining them. But the past year had changed Maggie. “Tim’s very kind to me. He works with his hands. He’s very physical. He takes care of what needs to be taken care of. I’ve spent my life with men who have complicated internal lives and no follow-through. That’s not Tim. Not that he’s not smart, but he’s not wrapped up in analyzing everything all the time. It’s a relief. It means I don’t second-guess myself all the time.”

  “And his mother? Is she on board?” Liza asked because she understood the importance of getting the mother-in-law on the right side.

  “Nancy Yablonski wants us to get married before the baby, which we’re not so sure about. And she thinks I’m only thirty. But other than that, I’m pretty sure she likes me. She told me my artwork was ‘very colorful.’” Air quotes employed.

  “You know when Dad’s book comes out, your true age will be revealed, right?”

  “She has no idea who Dad is. She loves a Nora Roberts book and that’
s all right with me.”

  “Are you going to get married before the baby is born?” Liza had to ask, her mind racing ahead to how beautiful a small Christmas wedding could be at Willow Lane, a good distraction for her as the kids would be skiing in Vermont with their father.

  “I’m not so sure. If we do, it will be a city hall quickie. Any party will be after the brewpub is open and the baby is born. Tim wants to have a big blowout there. Maybe over Fourth of July.”

  “That’s one way to top last year’s debacle.”

  “Make sure to invite Nina and Devon. Because they weren’t traumatized enough by the big Serena reveal, followed by Cap’s legal threats,” Tricia said, thinking of the quiet academic couple who could barely look her in the eye when she ran into them in New Haven with Raj.

  “Maybe we’ll spare Nina and Devon, but we’re definitely inviting Connor and David so they can pay for lobster.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Tricia said without an ounce of jealousy and only slight concern, relieved that Maggie had used the buyout money from Willow Lane to put in an offer on a small house with a studio in Mill River. The deal would close after the first of the year. It needed work, but it was hers. Stability was the key for Maggie. And it would be for the baby.

  “Me, too,” Liza echoed, glad that Maggie would be on this side of the country as a new mother, so she could keep an eye on her and be the best auntie for the baby.

  “Thank you. It’s about time Vivi and Fitz have a cousin. You can get in the game,” Maggie said, looking at Tricia. “We could be pregnant together.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’d hate sharing a baby shower.”

  “That’s true.”

  “If I can’t give you a wedding, please let me give you a shower.”

  “Free gifts! Yes, I’ll take one of those. Can we do it before I get huge? I mean, look at these things,” Maggie said, pointing to her breasts. “If they are a harbinger of things to come, I may be in trouble.”

  “You look fantastic,” Liza said, adding, “but my advice is to stay active and don’t eat for two, eat for one and a half.” It was the same piece of advice that Liza had given a dozen friends over the years when they asked her how she got back into shape so quickly after the twins. She thought it was a diplomatic way of saying, Don’t stuff your face for nine months.

  In the lull before the party prep whipped into high gear, the three sisters sat around the kitchen table. Liza was peeling potatoes, Maggie was flipping through Traditional Home, and Tricia was reading the New York Times. Tricia looked up from the paper. “Is everybody ready for Tuesday? Should we talk about that now or wait for Serena?”

  “Let’s wait for Serena.” Liza stood up to toss the potatoes in the boiling water. She basted the backup turkey in the oven because she didn’t trust the grilling method completely. She was willing to give in to the curried cauliflower that Raj was bringing and the vegan stuffing that Vivi insisted upon, but she wasn’t fooling around with the bird. “She texted me this morning when she left DC. She’s picking her parents up at LaGuardia at two. They should be here by three.”

  “You know what? You’re totally right,” Maggie said, referring to Liza’s earlier comment. “This is going to be really weird. Now I’m sorry I can’t drink.”

  “Maggie and Tim are having a baby.” Tricia stepped out of the shower as Raj stepped in. The boathouse bathroom left something to be desired in terms of size, but the water pressure was magnificent.

  “Does Tim know?”

  Tricia laughed. “Of course.”

  “Well, he only seems to care about his hops-to-wheat ratio and the new hard cider they pressed last week.” Raj and Tim had formed a bond over the last few months that centered on beverages and a mutual love of the Bourne films. It seemed to be enough to sustain conversation for hours.

  “I think he’ll be a great dad.”

  “Yes. He will. And your sister will be fine, don’t worry.” Tricia didn’t answer, so Raj asked, “Did you ever tell your sisters about your miscarriage?”

  “No. I never found an opening that felt right this summer. And now, it’s past time. I don’t want to jinx Maggie. I’m okay.”

  “You’re a champion. Remember that.”

  “Do you think your mother will like me?” Tricia blurted out, worried about their Christmas visit, her first time to meet the Chaudhrys. “Even though I’m not Indian?”

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Liza was talking about her mother-in-law and Maggie mentioned Tim’s mother. It got me thinking about your mother.”

  “She will love you, even though you’re not Indian. You did go to Yale and Yale Law. That will go a long way with her.”

  Tricia leaned into the streaming water and kissed Raj. “I’d like to have a baby someday.”

  “So would I. With you.”

  Liza snapped a photo of the table and typed a message to Gray: Next year, place for you? Then second-guessed herself, erased the message, and texted instead, Happy Thanksgiving. See you Saturday night.

  She was in no rush.

  Maggie found Tim outside, stoking the charcoal, getting ready to put the twenty-pound spatchcocked turkey on the grill. Vivi and Fitz were bouncing on the new trampoline, their interest in grilling exhausted. Maggie pulled her purple cashmere wrap tighter around her shoulders. The temperature was dropping. It might snow like the news predicted. Maggie thought that she and Tim could stay at Willow Lane if they needed to. She had packed an extra bag for both of them just in case.

  Tim drew Maggie toward him with his barbecue tongs and kissed her. “How’d it go?”

  “I don’t know why I was so worried. They couldn’t have been more supportive,” Maggie admitted. She’d expected Liza and Tricia to lecture, to go heavy on the reprisals and light on the acceptance. But they seemed to genuinely believe that Maggie could pull off motherhood. “I’m so relieved.”

  “I think it’s me. I’m the glue holding this whole operation together.” Tim used his tongs as a scepter, pointing to the house, the grill, Maggie’s belly, which hadn’t quite popped yet but would any day. He wrapped his arms around her. “Just think, next year at this time, little Sweeney Yablonski is going to be about the same size as this turkey.”

  Chapter 26

  Team Sweeney was assembled and ready to go by half past two. Liza, Maggie, and Tricia were dressed in what Liza called “casual harvest chic” and fortified for battle, thanks to several helpings of the classic pâté that Cap and Anders always brought to winter season gatherings at Willow Lane. Anders volunteered to do the wine service throughout the day, a job Liza normally assigned to Whit. Cap was ready to play peacemaker and buffer between guests should any tensions break out. Tim was on turkey duty and maintaining the fire in the living room. Raj was tasked with carving the backup turkey and providing entertaining bits of academic and literary trivia. Vivi and Fitz, briefed on the situation, which made them feel very grown-up, were prepared to read their “What I’m Thankful For” essays if conversation dried up.

  “We’re all going to be fine,” Tricia told everyone for the tenth time that day as Serena’s Range Rover pulled into the driveway. “We’re all going to be fine.”

  Liza opened the front door and welcomed the Tucker family with her patented graciousness. “We’re so glad you’re here to celebrate with us. Please come in.”

  Mitch and Birdie Tucker were first through the door. Mitch looked exactly the same as he had in 1993, in a stiff blazer and with thinning hair, holding a bottle of French wine. Birdie was overdressed in a tweed suit and high heels, carrying a cheese plate with Brie and Bremner wafers as a hostess gift. After spotting the Brie, Maggie and Tricia struggled not to make eye contact with each other. Serena followed her parents into the front hall, after she paused to give Liza a hug. “Here we are. And I brought my assigned decaf coffee!”

  Liza took the Shaw’s bag from Serena, then whispered in her ear, “If this starts to go south, don’t worry. I hav
e a lot of wine.”

  Serena had barely eaten on the drive up, drinking too much caffeine and worrying about this entire plan for most of the six hours on the road: the meeting of the two families; the publication of Serena’s piece, “Elspeth’s Daughter and Her Sisters,” about her personal journey over the last year in Vanity Fair on Monday; the television appearance on CBS This Morning the next day with Liza, Maggie, and Tricia; and the blitz of publicity that would follow, thanks to the publication of Snap on the same day as their television appearance. By Wednesday, Serena Tucker would become Serena Sweeney in the minds of many people and she felt ready for that, thanks to the many hours she’d spent with her sisters over the past few months, and her therapist.

  Serena and Tricia had worked out the response over the summer after the memoir had been found, read, and digested. As Tricia suspected, Serena wanted to tell her story to the world, of discovering that she was Not Parent Expected and everything that followed after that moment. Tricia encouraged her to not only write her story, but to tie it to the publication of Snap, so both the article and the book would benefit from the media attention, an idea that Serena would never have had the guts to suggest, though it had crossed her mind as well. Serena’s literary agent had secured the magazine piece in Vanity Fair, as Lucy Winthrop had predicted, and would be fielding any subsequent book or film offers that Serena’s piece might generate. Cap would carry on in his role as managing William Sweeney’s intellectual property and news like this would fire up that market. As these pieces were falling into place, Serena and Tricia told Liza and Maggie about the strategy to present a united front, to support Serena, and, in turn, she would provide an alternative narrative about the sisters to the world, different than the one presented in Snap. It was Serena who had assured Liza, Maggie, and Tricia that she wasn’t out to trash them. “I’ve come to value all of you.”