"And I didn't need your help. Yet, I managed to thank you. Which you threw back in my face. Gentleman, my ass."
Calder muttered the last bit under her breath. Adam heard every word.
"What makes a gentleman in your book? Someone like your boyfriend who doesn't take no for an answer? I guess you can forgive a lot if he wears an expensive suit and knows the proper fork to use."
"Milo Prendergast is not my boyfriend." Which was beside the point. Yet for some reason, Calder felt the need to set the record straight. "As for a gentleman? In my book? He isn't judged by his clothes. Or table manners. But by how he treats other people."
"I treated you just fine."
"A gentleman would have acknowledged my thank you. And he wouldn't have told me I have lousy taste in men."
"Okay. You said thank you. I should have responded in kind. My mother taught me better." When Adam's lips curved upward, Calder had to admit he had a nice smile. Naturally, he ruined the moment. "However, I stand by my opinion. Your taste in men is questionable at best. If your boyfriend is any indication."
"How many times do I have to tell you? He isn't my boyfriend!"
Adam's smile widened. "Good to know."
Suddenly, Calder realized the ridiculous turn of the conversation. And the situation. Dressed in a robe and nightgown, her feet bare, she was in the middle of an argument. But somehow, she'd forgotten why. Calder frowned.
"What are we talking about?"
"Hell if I know. Maybe—"
"Hey, Adam," a man called from down the hall. He wore a painter's cap, coveralls, and a disgruntled expression on his weathered face. "Melvin opened one of the new cans. The store sent the wrong color."
"Relax, Asa. We still have some of the old. Load the wrong stuff into my truck. I'll take care of the mix-up and be back before you finish your lunch break."
Should she say goodbye? Or walk away without a backward glance. Awkward for no particular reason, Calder shoved her hands into her robe pockets.
"I'll let you get back to work."
When Adam didn't respond, Calder skirted around him. She was almost out of sight when he called out.
"The suit isn't your boyfriend?"
"Milo?" Who else could he mean? "No. He's not my boyfriend."
Before Calder could ask why he cared—because in spite of herself, she really wanted to know—Adam sent her an enigmatic look and disappeared down the stairs.
"What the hell?"
Calder looked around for someone, anyone, who would commiserate with her exasperation. But the hallway was empty.
"He must be crazy," Calder decided.
Happy with her assessment, she headed to her room, determined to put Adam out of her head. Unfortunately, crazy or not, one thing was for certain. Unlike other men who came and quickly went from Calder's thoughts, Adam would prove harder to forget.
~~~~
CALDER STARED OUT her office window at the bird perched on the ledge. Pecking away unconcerned, the pigeon raised its head and stared back as if to say, 'what's your problem'?
"I wish I had an answer."
Out of sorts was the best way she could describe her state of mind. For the last two days, she'd gone about her business with an outward calm she didn't feel. Calder hated when her emotions felt prickly and wouldn't settle. Especially when she knew the reason but couldn't for the life of her think of a doable solution.
"Ad copy for our Spring Romance Gala is ready for your approval."
Annabel Brock set her iPad on Calder's desk with a flourish. The best right-hand woman a person could hope for, she was young—but not green. Enthusiastic—but not giddy. And efficient—in every way possible. Polished and professional. Without her, Calder didn't know how she would have managed in the early days, before her charity took root.
Erica's Angels ran like a well-oiled machine. Calder liked to think the reason was the years she'd spent setting up the business model. At first, she and Annabel were a two-woman operation.
Helping children in need was Calder's passion. Though the cause was worthy, she had to fight tooth and nail for every donation.
The Benedict family connections helped. And her sisters pitched in whenever they had the time. Still, New York City was filled with charitable organizations. Fresh out of college with a bright, shiny degree, she wasn't taken seriously. Another rich girl with too much time on her hands.
New. Untried. Calder had to start at the back of the line. Which was fine. She was used to people underestimating her. For as long as she could remember, one of her favorite pastimes was proving doubters wrong
While others laughed behind her back—and some right in her face—Calder calmly and ruthlessly wheedled and schemed and sometimes trampled over anyone who stood in her way. She earned a reputation as a woman who wouldn't take no for an answer. Not where her baby was concerned.
Six years later, Erica's Angels was no longer an also-ran. The organization soared right up there beside the cream of New York charities. Calder had conquered one of the toughest cities in the country. Next? The world.
The plans were all in place for global expansion. A slow rollout starting next year as they tested the waters. Failure wasn't an option.
"How will I ever find someone even half as good to take your place?" Calder had informed Annabel of her promotion day before yesterday. The woman hadn't stopped smiling.
"I have a year to train my replacement before I leave for England." Stars in her light-blue eyes, Annabel sighed the name as she ran a hand through her light-brown, shoulder-length hair. "Until I'm satisfied, you won't have to deal with anybody but me."
After extensive research and debate, Calder had decided to base the charity's secondary headquarters in London. Central enough of a location, Annabel could do all her traveling within a few hours.
"I know you're the best person for the job. Europe won't know what hit it. But I'll miss you."
"I know." Annabel placed her hand over Calder's. They weren't just work colleagues. They were friends. "Think of the fun we'll have when you come to visit. Often, I hope."
"Be careful what you hope for. Between checking on Erica's Angels Europe and shopping sprees, I might spend more time with you than here at home."
Unconcerned, Annabel laughed. Calder belonged in New York. She thrived on the energy. Loved the people. Adored the theater and art galleries. She enjoyed traveling, but she was always glad to come back.
Home is where the heart is. And for Calder, her heart only beat properly when she was near the ones she loved. Her sisters.
Her focus returned, Calder picked up the Spring Romance Gala advertisement which would run online starting in mid-May, a month before the actual event. The print copy had been sent to select newspapers and magazines.
One of the biggest moneymakers of the year, the gala had become a must-attend evening. Everyone who was anybody—and anyone desperate to be somebody—requested tickets months before they were available. Each year, the budget and venue grew to keep up with demand. Still, they had to turn people away.
Personally, Calder hated the hierarchy system where money and social standing equaled power. In a perfect world, she would have distributed invitations on a first-come, first-serve basis. A broadminded approach to raising money.
Unfortunately, facts were facts. While Calder could afford to thumb her nose at New York's elite, Erica's Angels couldn't. They needed to fill the Spring Romance Gala event with fat bank accounts. Even if the owners often possessed equally fat heads.
"Traditional was a good choice." Annabel leaned over Calder's shoulder. "Who doesn't love red roses?"
Calder wasn't a fan. Then again, she was biased. They were her mother's favorite. A fact every husband, lover, and potential boyfriend played up to the hilt. She couldn't remember a time when vases of roses didn't dot the Benedict mansion. Every floor carried the scent even when flowers weren't around. As if the fragrance had permeated the walls.
In the minority, Calder had agreed an old-school approach would be a nice change of pace. They liked to mix things up. Edgy one year. Avant guard the next. Last year, they went back to the sixties and the Summer of Love. While not a favorite of some donors, the younger crowd gushed over the tie-dyed banners and peace signs.
They already had next year's theme. The Roaring Twenties. Calder looked forward to flappers, the Charleston, and bathtub gin. For now, she could live with roses.
"The new agency hit a home run." Calder nodded her approval. "The advertisements should bring in some extra donations."
"I was about to make a cookie run. Can I bring you something?"
The bakery on the corner featured a new kind of cookie every day. Annabel allowed herself one as an afternoon treat. Calder usually passed but today she felt in need of a sugar pick-me-up.
"I'll take a Cherry Delight." Calder paused, then gave into an impulse she might later regret. "Get a couple dozen."
"Wow." Annabel chuckled. "When you go off the wagon, you go all the way."
"They aren't all for me."
"If you say so."
Alone again, Calder had second thoughts. Her spur of the moment decisions rarely ended well. She liked to think things through. Form a plan. Polish the edges. Impulsive wasn't her style. Ready to tell Annabel to cancel the cookie order, she'd barely started to rise when her phone rang.
Each of her sisters was assigned a different ringtone. Andi or Bryce, she might have ignored the call since she would see them later tonight. But when the strains of Free Bird filled the office, she answered immediately.
"Destry. Are you in one piece?"
A family joke with just enough truth and worry to make the question necessary for her peace of mind.
"Hale and hearty. Not a bruise on my delicate frame."
Calder smiled. The last thing anybody who knew her would call Destry was delicate. A person foolish enough to make the mistake soon learned their lesson. Often the hard way.
"Where are you?"
"Duluth."
"As in Minnesota?" Calder didn't try to hide her surprise. She'd expected a more exotic location than mid-western America.
"Mmm." Destry didn't sound pleased. "I'm sure the town is very nice. Except for the snow in April. And the crappy hotel my client booked me into. Oh, did I mention the lousy food?"
"Otherwise, you would recommend Duluth as a vacation destination?"
"Sure. Why not." Destry let out a breezy chuckle. "If you have any friends you'd like to convert into enemies, recommend away."
"I don't think so. In my business, I need all the friends I can get."
"Better you than me."
Destry wasn't known for her winning personality. She didn't smile if she weren't in the mood. She shunned small talk like the plague. And she could count on one hand the number of people whose opinions mattered. Calder was damn proud to be among the chosen few.
"Andi and I have played text-tag for two days. Bryce doesn't answer her phone when she writes—which means she never answers. So—"
"I was your last resort?" Calder asked without rancor.
"Actually, I called you first. For once, you didn't answer."
Frowning, Calder checked her messages. Sure enough, Destry had tried to contact her.
"You must have called when I was in the bathroom." A place Calder refused to take her phone.
"What's up? I figure something must be hopping or Andi would have left details."
"Billie's dating Ingo Hunter." Calder saw no reason for a long preamble.
"And once more, our dear mother proves she has about as much sense as the average gnat." Destry sighed. "Is she serious about him?"
"Hard to say. I saw them together the night before last. Since then, she pops in for a change of clothes. Usually when none of us are home. But she's glowing, Destry. Like when she's convinced she's found the love of her life."
"The love that will last forever." Well-earned cynicism dripped from Destry's voice. "How many times have we heard that one? Not counting the six husbands?"
"I've lost track." All of them had. "In the past, love or lust, Billie's men were equally enthralled. Ingo Hunter doesn't care about anyone but himself. And the size of his portfolio."
"True. When Hunter tried his line on me, I didn't detect a trace of desire in his beady eyes. Only dollar signs."
"All Billie will see is her own reflection. Until Hunter gets whatever he's after."
For decades, Calder and her sisters had dealt with the aftermath of their mother's relationships. From the heartfelt sobs to the declarations she was through with love for good. They'd learned to weather the storm with the knowledge neither lasted long. Within days, Billie's tears had dried, and she was on to the next man.
"Must be wonderful to have such a short memory." Destry snorted. "You know our lives would be easier if we didn't give a flying leap."
Calder agreed. Their mother was vain. Shallow. Self-centered. The center of her own universe. Yet, she drew people to her like the sun. A beautiful, flitting butterfly. They might feel different if they had to deal with her 24/7. In small increments, Billie was hard to hate. Impossible not to love.
"Somehow Billie's managed to avoid men who wanted nothing but her money." Some were useless. Some dumb as a post. But none tried to take their mother to the cleaners.
"Hunter can't get his hands on the Benedict fortune," Destry pointed out. "So, what does he want?"
"The question of the moment. When we figure out the answer, we'll let you know."
"I can be there tomorrow. Just say the word."
Calder was tempted. But for her own sake, not Billie's.
"I'd rather you were here. Always. But Billie is fine for now. She can't remarry until six months after her divorce is final."
"Good old Granddad. He really believed women can't make rational decisions." Destry let out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. "In Billie's case, he was right."
"I wonder what he'd say if he were alive to see what his granddaughters have accomplished."
"I doubt our little endeavors would change his mind. His will is very specific. Men rule the roost. Women should be seen, not heard, and always defer to the closest man."
Calder waited a beat before she burst out laughing. Destry joined her. The younger Benedict women were a lot of things. Silent, without strong opinions they weren't. A self-involved mother and mostly absentee fathers meant they didn't have to listen to anybody's idea of how they should behave or who they should become. As a result, they were simply themselves.
"I have to be someplace in twenty minutes." Destry had snapped back into professional mode. "And since felons are notoriously unpredictable, I don't want to be late."
Every instinct in Calder's body screamed to beg Destry to be careful. Years of experience said her youngest sibling would bristle at the warning. No matter how heartfelt. So, she did what she always did. Bit her tongue and said a little prayer.
"Call if you need anything." Since Destry never needed anything, Calder rephrased her request. "Just call. Any time. Day or night. And a visit would be nice. We miss your pretty face around the old homestead."
"Next week. I promise. Love you."
"Love you, too."
Calder set down her phone with a smile. A promise from Destry was as much of a sure thing as life could guarantee.
"Here are the cookies." Annabel breezed into the office, her cheeks rosy from her brisk walk to and from the bakery. "They only had eighteen Cherry Delights left. But when I told Marvin they were for you, he threw in a dozen fresh-baked Chocolate Dreams. Free of charge. Then asked oh so casually if you were dating anybody at the moment."
Honestly, Calder didn't think of the owner of Lee's Bakery in a romantic way. Not because Marvin Lee wasn't attractive. He was. Very. However, the few times they'd met, she was in a hurry, and he was swamped with customers. They hadn't even flirted.
"I didn't think he noticed me."
"Oh, he noticed." Annabel grinned. "He's a great catch, Calder."
"I'm flattered." And she was. Though, Calder wondered if Marvin's interest would dim if he knew the free cookies he'd sent were for another man.
"I know how sensitive you are about your personal life. I informed Marvin that I didn't know what your romantic situation was at the moment."
Before Calder could answer with a mighty thank you, Annabel continued.
"However, if you're the least bit interested, you should move fast. At least half of Marvin's business comes from women who think the buns on his backside are tastier than the ones in his oven."
"Charming." As she reached for her coat, Calder had to laugh. "Thank you for effectively ruining my love of dinner rolls."
Annabel sighed. "Fine. I know when to admit defeat. You could have any man you want with a snap of your fingers."
If Calder wanted a warm-blooded companion who would come when she snapped her fingers, she would get a dog. As for a man? She knew exactly what she wanted. Someone who looked beyond her net worth. Beyond the mansion and her family connections. She'd looked—once or twice. And came up empty.
"Unless an emergency crops up, I'm out of touch until Monday."
Annabel trailed Calder to the elevator.
"One more word on the subject of men?"
"Only one?" Calder said with a sideways look.
"For now." Annabel held the elevator door as Calder stepped inside. "Find yourself a hunky, sexy playmate. Don't worry if he's after your money. Just have some fun."
Intense blue eyes popped into Calder's head. She didn't have any problem pairing them with a ruggedly handsome face and tall, muscled body. She looked at the box of cookies. Bait? Why not.
"I think I remember how to do fun."
"Sure you do." Annabel stepped back, letting the heavy door close. "And Calder? When you find your playmate? Find out if he has a friend for me."
CHAPTER FOUR
One Way or Another: A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance (The Sisters Quartet Book 1) Page 4
