PROLOGUE

 

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CALDER BENEDICT LOVED late afternoon best.

The time of day when she and her sisters stopped whatever they were doing—wherever they were—to gather in their special room.

Their mother never disturbed them. Sometimes loving, but mostly flighty and self-centered, Billie Benedict was happy to leave her girls to their own devices. One less thing for her to think about. One less worry. Though Billie never dwelt on any problem. She'd long ago graduated—with honors—from the Scarlett O'Hara Tomorrow is Another Day School of Life Lessons.

Except in Billie's case, tomorrow never came. Troubles, like men, were easily forgotten. Disposable. Replaceable.

Calder shook off the thought. She closed her eyes, flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder, and let the room's magic chase away the sad.

The ever-changing parade of servants knew the little girls' inner sanctum was off limits. Not even to clean. On the rare occasions Calder could cajole or bully her sisters to help keep the room tidy, she would. However, for the most part, she was on her own.

Andi was too distracted, her head filled with dreams of the future. Big dreams. Important dreams. Dreams she was determined to fulfill.

Bryce was always happy to help when Calder asked. Her twin started out with the best of intentions. However, after a few unenthusiastic swipes of her dust cloth, she would curl up on the faded, overstuffed sofa they'd rescued from the storage room across the hall, her nose buried in a book.

Then there was Destry. She wasn't lazy. Or forgetful. Unlike her sisters, her head wasn't crammed with dreams or schemes or books. The youngest Benedict was simply too full of perpetual energy to stay put in one place for long.

Ants in her pants pronounced their great-aunt Annis with an annoyed shake of her head. The old woman never had a good word to say about anybody. Especially the four Benedict girls.

Calder smiled as she straightened the plate of little cakes. The four Benedict girls didn't need Great-Aunt Annis' approval. Or anyone else's. They had each other. And always would.

"Chocolate? Yum! Gimme, gimme."

Destry, her eyes wide with greed, rushed forward. Andi swore that after 'no,' 'gimme' was their little sister's first word. Calder had no doubt.

At nine, Calder was a year older, reed thin, and a good three inches taller. With ease, she held the plate of cakes out of Destry's determined grasp.

"You know you have to wait until Andi and Bryce get here."

Destry wasn't a typical eight-year-old girl. She wasn't a typical anything. When she didn't get her own way, she didn't stamp her foot. Or pout. Or cry. She never yelled or threatened. Instead, she narrowed her lids over her burnished gold eyes, while her brain worked at the speed of light to figure out the best way to get exactly what she wanted. Usually, she succeeded.

"Not today." Calder wasn't as intractable as her sister. However, when the moment called for stubborn, she could hold her own. "You're welcome to a cup of tea."

Calder hid her smile when Destry grimaced. She and Bryce were the tea drinkers. Andi would settle for the brewed beverage, but she preferred the days when their housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, provided a pitcher of freshly squeezed, slightly tart, lemonade.

And Destry? She wanted the sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. The sweeter, the better.

Calder loved when she could make her little sister happy.

"I snuck a Coke from the fridge when Mrs. Finch wasn't looking."

With a whoop of happiness, Destry threw herself into Calder's arms.

"I love you."

"Because of a can of soda?"

"Because you're Calder."

Destry's hug tightened. A moment of emotion from a little girl who more often than not, hid her feelings well.

"Where are Andi and Bryce?" Destry was already across the room, a glass in one hand, the newly opened can in the other. "I'm starving."

Before Calder could speculate over their missing sisters' whereabouts, the door opened.

"I'm pooped." With a heavy sigh, Bryce collapsed onto the old sofa.

"You look like a cyclone hit you," Calder observed.

Though born only minutes apart, she and Bryce were opposites in many ways. From their physical features to their personalities. However, despite their differences—or perhaps because of them—they were as close as any twins could be.

Bryce's red hair stuck out in all kinds of interesting directions, the two long, neat braids she'd worn when she left for school, things of the past. One knee was scraped. Her school uniform—and face—smudged with dirt. Whatever happened didn't prey on her mind. She relaxed as if she didn't have a care in the world. Which was probably true.

"Jerry Welker stole Millie Pearson's hair ribbon. I had to chase the little snot around the school three times before I finally caught him."

"And if I hadn't pulled you off, you'd have left him with more than a bruised ego." Andi, the oldest by a whole year and natural leader of their little, exclusive sisters' club, closed the door behind her. "Here. You dropped your latest gore-fest."

Bryce snatched the book from Andi's hand. She ran her hand over the cover like she would an indulged pet.

"Not gory. Thrilling. The blood is incidental."

Andi shook her head. But her green eyes sparkled, and her smile was indulgent. Almost eleven, she already possessed the kind of glossy looks other girls envied. But she would have gladly traded her high cheekbones and silky blond hair for a few more IQ points. In her book, brains trumped beauty every time.

A wave of satisfaction rushed over Calder, something she always felt whenever their circle was complete. No matter the circumstances, everything was better when the Benedict girls were together.

"Can we eat now?"

"Dig in."

As they filled their plates, they chatted away about nothing in particular. Which was often the way. Just the four of them. Sisters. Able to enjoy each other's company. However, when serious matters arose—which they tended to do now and then—they didn't hesitate to share. Sometimes they argued. Often, they laughed. A few tears might fall.

If one sister had a grievance with another, the solutions were swift and, for the most part, satisfactory to all concerned.

Their problems with the world at large weren't as simple. Outside their room, Calder and her sisters led complicated lives. There were no easy fixes. However, talking always helped. Four sets of shoulders to carry the burden instead of one.

"One more month until summer break." Bryce looked from sister to sister, her gray eyes sad.

The calendar they ritualistically replaced each January hung on the far wall. Bright and cheery, yellow daisies adorned the month of May. Calder had looked ahead to June. Purple pansies. Such a happy flower. Too bad their moods didn't match.

"We'll survive." Andi placed a supportive hand on Bryce's arm. "We always do."

"What if we refused to go?"

Three sets of eyes turned toward Destry. More than any of them, she dreaded summer.

"You know we don't have a choice." Calder wished they did. But the law was the law. "Besides, I thought you were kind of looking forward to Europe."

"Texas." Destry grimaced as if the word left a foul taste on her tongue. "Business, as usual, is more important than a vacation."

"I'm sorry." Calder understood disappointment. They all did. But Destry always seemed to get the biggest slice.

"Doesn't matter." Destry shrugged. "Wherever we go, he always hires a big-jugged babysitter who never wants to do anything but sit around the pool and work on her tan."

Andi took a seat in an overstuffed chair. Big enough for two, she patted the cushion. Without hesitation, Destry joined her, burrowing into her older sister's comforting embrace.

"One good thing. If our family fortune ever disappears, we can sell our story to a tabloid for a truckload of money."

The sisters sighed as one. They weren't any different from other children of divorce. Except in one spectacular way. One mother. Three pregnancies. Four different fathers.

Automatically, Calder and Bryce linked hands as they always did in times of turmoil. They'd shared a womb. But not a father. A rare phenomenon—though not unheard of—their mother was married at the time. Billie's husband didn't question whether the babies were his. Why would he? Until Bryce showed up with a shock of bright red hair. A trait they couldn't attribute to either side of the family.

Already on shaky ground, Calder's father saw his way out. He demanded a DNA test. Imagine everyone's surprise when he turned out to be a father. But only to Calder. Bryce, according to their mother, was the product of a one-night stand with an old high school sweetheart.

Bryce's biological father stepped forward and took responsibility. Though he was happy to claim her as his own, like the rest of their mother's baby daddies, he didn't have a lot to do with his daughter for most of the year.

Until summer. Two and a half months of awkward bonding time. By the end, the men were more than ready to resume their roles as absentee fathers. And the girls were happy to let them.

"We'll survive." Andi repeated her earlier words with an added amount of conviction none of them felt.

Of course, they'd survive, Calder thought. They had each other to come home to. Billie Benedict wasn't the best mother in the world. She loved her daughters to the best of her absentminded ability. However, she'd accomplished two things for which her daughters would always be grateful. She gave them each other. And she'd insisted they carry her family name.

"A toast." Calder stood. She waited as Andi, Bryce, and Destry joined her. Head held high, her gaze moved around the circle. "To the Benedict sisters."

Hands raised, four voices became one.

"To the Benedict sisters."