He was a throwback to the time when being a vaunted American writer meant being male, white, and heterosexual, with a drinking problem, a healthy ego, and a dark childhood.

You will survive the truth.

That's the luxury that men have. They can be awful and beloved. Women don't get that kind of leeway.

In a few weeks time, Serena began to see the role she might play in this sisterhood.  A loyal friend to Liza. A workplace sounding board to Tricia. A source of support to Maggie. There is a place for me here, Serena thought, looking around the patio at the small crowd of attractive people, chatting, drinking, and laughing, comfortable in each other's company, a family by birth and by choice. I can be one of them.

"When I came to the wake, I was looking for something some connection to your family. I assumed it would be through your father, but seeing you all together again reminded me of the envy I felt when we were kids and you'd walk down the lane together laughing and singing. You were the same twenty years later. I see what you do for each other---you cover for each other. I haven't had that in my life. I've been out there on my own. No one to provide coverage. It's a new concept to me."