If the enormity of what I’d just done had not sunk in before, it did then.

Fortunately, we were able to escape without further incident by François applying a special horn Grandmère had had installed against the wishes and advice of everyone—it plays the first chords of the Genovian anthem at near-deafening decibels. It caused the children to unpeel themselves from the limo and scamper away in alarm.

But Lord only knows what the police found in the school yard when they arrived after we’d gone (we heard the sirens, but in the distance, after we’d already made our escape to the exit ramp to the highway, thank God).

“Olivia,” I said, after we’d had a chance to catch our breath. “I’m very, very sorry about this. I did not mean for you to find out this way that you’re—that we’re—”

“It’s okay,” Olivia said. She didn’t look the least bit upset. Her gaze had been roving around the interior of the car, lighting up as it landed on the minibar, where there were full cans of soda on display as mixers for Grandmère’s alcohol, not to mention bags of chips and other assorted favorite snacks of my grandmother’s. “I already knew. Annabelle told me.”

“Yes, I realize that. But that’s what I mean. It shouldn’t have happened that way. I’m very sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” Olivia said. “This is fun.”

“Fun?” I glanced uneasily at my adult companions. What had been fun about any of what just happened? “Really?”

“Yes,” Olivia said. “This is my first time in a limo. Do those go on?” She pointed at the fiber-optic lighting in the limousine’s ceiling, which Grandmère had had installed because she enjoyed being bathed in the most flattering colors at all times.

“Yes,” I said. “Those do go on.”

Like magic, we were all suddenly bathed in a rosy hue from both the sides and roof of the car.

“Cool!” Olivia cried, smiling broadly, especially as François, who’d overheard us, had chosen the “twinkle” effect, so the rose color began to turn to purple, then to blue.

When you ride in limos all the time, it’s hard to remember that to some people—especially a twelve-year-old—​it’s a new, exciting experience. That’s the great thing about being twelve.

“So,” I said to Olivia, “I’m sure you must have a lot of questions—”

“Yes, I do.” She looked at me very intently. “Is it really true?”

“That we’re sisters? Yes, it’s really true. I’m so sorry you found out this way, but it’s very, very true—”

“No, is it true what that paper you showed me said? That you have my aunt’s permission to take me to any destination of my choosing?”

I threw Lilly a startled look. The truth was, I hadn’t read the agreement Olivia’s aunt had signed.

“Er, yes,” I said, when I saw that Lilly was nodding. “Yes, it’s really true. Why? Is there somewhere you’d like to go?”

“Yes,” she said, her dark eyes sparkling. “To meet my dad.”

I’m not sure what I’d expected her to say, but not that. I don’t know why, since it should have been obvious.

Those four little words, however, momentarily robbed me of breath with their sweet simplicity.

Of course. Of course she wanted to meet her dad. How could I have been so stupid? What else was a little girl who’d never known her father—never really had a parent at all—going to want?

“Oh. Right,” I said, my heart rolling over in my chest. Up until that second, I hadn’t even thought about where we were going. Away, was all I’d said to François. Just take us away . . . away from that awful school and that terrible Annabelle and all those kids throwing themselves against the car and Aunt Catherine and Cranbrook.

But clearly I needed to take her to meet her father, and right that second, before I did another thing.

I wasn’t sure Dad was going to agree, but I didn’t care.

“Of course. François? New York City, please.”

He nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Olivia looked a little nervous at this development. “Wait . . . my dad is in New York City?”

“He is,” Lilly said, leaning forward to thrust her right hand toward Olivia. “Only sixty-four miles away, and you never even knew it, did you? Lilly Moscovitz, by the way, but you can call me Aunt Lilly. I’m your sister’s cool friend.”

“Hey!” Tina protested.

“Lilly’s teasing you,” I explained to Olivia as she politely shook Lilly’s hand. “All my friends are cool.”

“Not true,” Lilly said as she continued to pump Olivia’s hand. “I’m the one you’re going to want to come to with all your questions about boys—”

“No.” I reached out and disengaged their hands, laying Olivia’s back in her lap. “Do not go to her.”

“Come to me,” Tina said firmly. “I’m your aunt Tina. I’m in medical school.”

“Okay,” Olivia said faintly. “But I’m only twelve.”

Hoping to distract her—and myself, since I’d been feeling a little teary-eyed since she’d asked about meeting her father—I asked Olivia, “Would you like a soda?” It was the only thing I could think of to say. Who wouldn’t be thirsty after an ordeal like the one we’d just gone through in the parking lot?