Adam thought the world of Mrs. Finch. However, as she took what seemed like forever to climb the stairs to Calder's room, he wanted to shout to the dear lady, get on the damn elevator already.
"Here we are."
Finally. The distinctive sound of knuckles on a door came through the phone.
"Yes?" someone asked. Not Calder. Bryce? Definitely Bryce. "Did you need something, Mrs. F.?"
"Actually, Adam's on the phone. He called when he couldn't reach Calder." Mrs. Finch paused. "Is something wrong?"
"Tell Adam…"
Tell Adam what? Adam's grip on his phone tightened. And why can't Calder speak for herself?
"Just a second."
"Mrs. Finch? What's going on?"
"I'm not sure. Bryce went into Calder's bathroom. I hear voices. Oh, here she comes."
"Calder?"
"No. Bryce."
Shit. Adam's blood pressure started to rise. He wasn't in the mood for blind man's tag team Q & A.
"Calder doesn't want to speak to him."
"Well, I want to speak to her. Damn it, Bryce. Bryce!"
"She shut the door," Mrs. Finch informed him "Though I will say, she looked sorry."
"Great. Just great."
"Adam?"
"What!" he shouted. Breathe, man, breathe. In a quieter voice, he asked again. "What, Mrs. Finch?"
"My girls mean everything to me. They're my world. My heart. I will defend and protect them to my last breath. Which begs the question. What the hell did you do?"
Mrs. Finch hung up before Adam had a chance to answer. Just as well. He didn't know what to say. Yesterday, before he left New York, he and Calder were fine. Great. Over the moon spectacular. Less than forty-eight hours later, his world had turned upside down.
Adam threw open his suitcase, tossing in his clothes as fast as possible. He knew one thing. To fix the problem—no other option—they had to be in the same city.
~~~~
CALDER WANTED TO crawl into bed. Shut out the world. If she could turn off her brain as well, she would have given into the impulse. Too many thoughts zinged from one corner of her mind to the other to allow her any rest.
As an alternative, she lay on top, Bryce by her side, as she stared at the smoky-blue ceiling.
"For the first time in my life, I understand why people take recreational drugs. Must be one or two—or several hundred—designed to turn the world into a soft, hazy void. Something to mellow the harsh for an hour or two."
"Drugs? Seriously?"
"No. But I understand the temptation."
Calder closed her eyes and breathed. She pictured her lungs expand, then retract as the air left her body.
"Stupid relaxation technique. Doesn't work at all."
"You have to try for more than five seconds." Bryce turned to her side. "Ready to talk? Or do you want to wallow a bit longer?"
Like her attempt to relax, Calder's first real wallow turned out to be an epic failure. She didn't understand the appeal. Ugly thoughts begat ugly thoughts. Sadness bred more sadness.
And tears? The one thing she knew could help—in small doses—eluded her. Calder's eyes were bone dry.
Besides, from what she understood, a good wallow was best done in solitude. The second Calder walked in the door, Bryce took one look and knew something was wrong. No questions asked, she followed Calder to her room.
Bryce wouldn't have left if Calder asked. And Calder would never ask.
"Ever wonder about our connection?" she pondered absently. "The bond beyond sisters? I know the whole shared-womb thing. How could we be closer—even if we were identical twins?"
"If we had the same father?"
Calder almost laughed.
"I wouldn't wish my father on you—or anyone else."
Bryce squeezed Calder's hand.
"We're who we are because Billie slept with my father while married to yours. Screwed up, yes. But I'm the result of her bad decision. If she'd walked the straight and narrow, I wouldn't be here."
For the first time, Calder felt her eyes prickle with the threat of tears. She rarely let herself contemplate the idea of a life without Bryce. The idea was unthinkable.
"I kinda love you, you know?"
"I kinda love you, too." Bryce gave a low chuckle. "Had enough icky, sticky sentimentality?"
"Mm." Not the Benedict sisters' style. They didn't fall into deep holes of depression. They didn't give into bouts of incessant weeping. And, though they loved each other to the ends of the earth and back, they were not overly sentimental.
Face life head on, whatever came down the pike. And never hesitate to kick any sign of trouble right in the balls.
Trouble. Calder couldn't run any longer. With a sigh, she reached for her phone.
"Just before I was ready to head home, I received a friendly little text from Aurora Charles."
"No."
"Yes."
Bryce propped herself up on her elbow as she studied the picture. She dismissed the image as quickly as Calder had.
"Pathetic attempt. Only the teenage heroine of a poorly written YA novel would be fooled by such a sloppy plot ploy."
"I agree."
"Because you aren't sixteen," Bryce nodded "Or prone to idiocy."
When Bryce tried to hand back the phone, Calder shook her head.
"Look again. Concentrate on the background."
Bryce frowned. Then, her gray eyes widened. Her mouth opened, then closed as if she wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
Calder collapsed onto her back. She'd hoped Bryce would laugh off what she saw. No such luck.
"An interesting gathering," Bryce said slowly, cautiously.
"Interesting isn't the word I'd use. Sickening was my first response. For a moment, I thought I might lose my lunch."
"Adam. Aurora Charles. Your father. And…"
"Might as well say the name. He isn't going anywhere."
"Ingo Hunter."
Ingo Hunter. The punch to her mid-section wasn't as sharp as the first time, but packed the same intense pain.
Calder had studied the picture. Looked for clues. Where were they? When? The biggest question of all? Why?
"Everyone seems so cozy. Don't you think? Hunter and my father have their heads together, thick as thieves. Dad's actually laughing."
"Weird."
"No kidding."
"I mean, Adam and Aurora don't seem to be with the others. They're outside what looks to be a separate room."
Bryce pointed to Hunter and Edwin Calder. They sat at a table, the surface sprinkled with half-filled high-ball glasses. Cigars smoldered in glass ashtrays.
"What? You think Adam was there by himself? At a place where my father and Ingo Hunter just happened to be all buddy-buddy? Along with Aurora. Oh, and don't forget the third man at the table."
"I was going to ask." Squinting, Bryce brought the phone closer to her face. "He looks familiar, but his face is shadowed."
"Bridge Manfred."
"The drug dealer?" Calder asked, then sighed. Seemed everyone did.
"You know him?"
"Of him," Bryce qualified. "He seems to pop up at every party, doesn't he?"
Calder nodded.
"Drug supplier to New York's elite." She rubbed her temples. "Two months ago, Adam knocked the man unconscious. Now, they're drinking buddies?"
"Except Adam isn't with Bridge Manfred. Or Hunter. Or your father."
"He's too busy locking lips with Aurora."
"Adam is an unwilling participant. A fact we both agree is strikingly obvious."
"I don't know anymore." Calder's head felt ready to explode. Too many questions. Not enough answers. "Why did I open the text? My first instinct was to hit delete. If I could go back…"
"Until someone perfects time travel, you can't." Bryce tossed the phone to the foot of the bed, screen side down. "What you can do is talk to Adam."
&n
bsp; "I don't want to."
"Ever?" Bryce dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "Hardly a practical solution. Adam won't let you disappear from his life without a few questions of his own."
Bryce was right. If she knew Adam, he'd… Calder stopped herself. Did she know him?
Had Adam played her?
Calder thought back to the private moments they'd shared. Until him, she never talked about her childhood. Had never let down her protective walls to any other man. And what about Adam? He'd poured his heart out when he told her about his mother. The facts were real, but what about his motive behind them?
"What if everything was a lie?" Calder curled into a ball. "What if, like so many before him, all Adam wants is my money?"
"Your feelings for him are real."
"Maybe I'm more like Billie than I thought. Latent bad judgement is probably a thing. Right?"
"Forget Billie."
"If only I could."
Bryce inched closer.
"Not many things scare me. But love? Just the thought is terrifying. You took a chance. Opened your heart." Her smile gentle, Bryce hugged Calder. "Makes you the bravest woman I know."
"If I were brave, I'd ask Adam to explain."
"You will. When you're ready for the truth."
Always her haven, Calder rested her head on Bryce's shoulder. For once, she couldn't find any comfort.
"I don't know if I want the truth."
"Yes. You do."
"Fine. I do."
Calder wished she was half as certain as she sounded. What she dreaded wasn't the truth. If she looked into Adam's deep-blue eyes and, for the first time, saw a lie, she didn't know how she would survive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
~~~~
A HOT SHOWER and several cups of strong tea bolstered Calder's sleep-deprived body. Makeup covered the circles under her eyes. Shoulders back, she descended the stairs at her usual brisk pace.
Whatever the day brought her way, she thought she was ready. Time would tell if she were right.
Adam had called. Over and over. She didn't listen to the messages he left. She wasn't a coward, Calder assured herself. Today was about the Spring Romance Gala. Too many people relied on the money they would raise. She refused to let her personal problems get in the way.
As she reached the foyer, the front door opened. Logically, she knew Adam didn't have the passcode. Still, breath caught in her throat. Until a dark pair of eyes met hers. And, Calder's hope for a great day rose precipitously.
"Destry. You're home."
Laughing, Destry returned Calder's enthusiastic hug.
"I told you I would be. Big bash tonight. Unless I mixed up the date?"
"No." Calder tightened her hold before she finally let go. "Can't I just be glad to see you?"
"I appreciate the warm welcome. Now, you want to tell me what's wrong?"
Of course Destry knew. The old Benedict sister connection at work.
"If I didn't have some place to be, I'd spill my guts all over your scuffed boots."
"Time for a new pair anyway." Concerned, Destry rubbed Calder's arm. "I wondered what was up. When I arrived, I spied a certain pretty boy camped out in his car."
Calder didn't have to ask who her sister meant.
"Adam's outside?"
With a nod, Destry's gaze narrowed.
"What did he do?"
"The jury's still out. Bryce can fill you in on the details."
Calder glanced at the door. She hadn't slept. Her brain and body were on auto-pilot. She wasn't ready to see Adam when she felt at such a disadvantage.
"Slip out the back. You can catch a cab at the end of the block."
"You're a lifesaver."
With a wave, Calder dashed down the hall.
"What I am is an expert at evasive measures," Destry called after her. Alone, she grinned. "Same difference, I suppose."
~~~~
"THE LARGE WHITE displays go on either side of the bandstand."
Calder wondered why she bothered to provide the florist with a detailed diagram. Though anybody with half a brain should know that five hundred dollars' worth of roses don't belong next to the men's bathroom.
From across the room, Annabel sent her a sympathetic look. If they could rely on others to do a proper job, they wouldn't have to supervise.
"Why don't you take a break?" Annabel's voice came through Calder's headset. "You've been here since the first delivery. I asked the hotel's deli to deliver a corned beef sandwich to the office. Go. Put your feet up for thirty minutes and enjoy."
Calder's stomach rumbled. A reminder she hadn't eaten since lunch—yesterday.
"You're a gem."
"I know."
Before anyone could waylay her, Calder exited the ballroom. Dressed for physical labor, her jeans, t-shirt, and running shoes received a few looks of mild disdain from the ladies-who-lunch crowd. Another time, she would have looked right back with her own brand of contempt. Running near empty, Calder ignored the women. And the impulse. She didn't have the energy to spare.
Right now, all she wanted was a few minutes of quiet, some much needed sustenance—and maybe a quick nap. Ten minutes would be a blessed miracle.
In the office, Calder locked the door. The sandwich, a side of French fries, and a pot of tea sat on the low coffee table. Slipping off her shoes, she flexed her feet, and settled onto the leather sofa with a grateful sigh.
Thick as her fist and slathered in mustard, the thinly sliced corned beef was lean and succulent. Calder couldn't manage the entire sandwich. As she glanced at the remaining half, her thoughts automatically turned to Adam. He could eat the rest. And another to boot.
Calder frowned. Alone, she could admit she missed him. He'd become an important part of her life. Too important, too fast. Instead of jumping feet first, she should have slowly waded in. Taken more time. Used a safer route.
Damn it. Until yesterday, everything felt so right. Nothing seemed rushed, certain she and Adam were exactly where they were supposed to be.
When her phone rang, Calder answered without glancing at the screen. She knew who was on the line.
"Hello, Adam."
"What the hell, Calder? I've been out of mind."
Adam sounded frantic. Good. She was miserable, let him suffer a little, too.
"You knew I was all right. You didn't have to worry."
"And yet, I did. All the way on the train. And, in my car, while I waited for you to take your morning run."
"I decided to skip a day."
"No kidding. Took me four hours, but reality finally sank in."
"Are you angry?" He had some nerve.
"Right now, tired. I desperately need to see you. Face to face. I need to know what's going on. Why you've shut me out."
"I'm busy. In case you forgot, the gala's tonight."
"I know. You invited me. Unless you don't want me to come."
"Of course I want you here," Calder said without thinking. She wasn't sorry. "I have to get back to work."
"Promise you'll make time for me. After."
"I promise."
Calder hung up. Tonight, she would know the truth. Tomorrow? She'd do what she always did. Get up and keep going. What she didn't know? Would Adam be by her side?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
~~~~
CALDER SMILED AT the camera. The curve of her lips felt natural, not forced. The reason? She was surrounded by her sisters—the best mood enhancers ever found.
They posed, arms around each other. Andi had designed their dresses to fit their individual personalities. Calder wore form-fitting blue. Bryce a flowing fuchsia. Destry wore a vibrant yellow with a high-neck, the back completely bare. For herself, Andi chose a long sheath in emerald green.
"Beautiful. A work of art," the photographer effused as he took several shots of the women. But between pictures, he only had eyes for Bryce.
"Somebody's smitten," Andi whispered, eyes twinkling.
"He's cute," Destry admitted through her fixed smile. "He has a kind of geeky bohemian vibe. What do you think? You've never dated a photographer."
"Mm." Bryce contemplated the possibility. "I don't know if I would date him. However, with a little encouragement, I could be convinced to check out his dark room."
As she listened to her sisters, Calder's smile widened. Daniel Morrison was a young, up and coming artist. She loved his work and was thrilled to hire him to document the gala with pictures—casual and posed. Another believer in Erica's Angel's, Daniel offered to work for only the cost of his materials.
Calder received the services of a top-notch photographer, while he helped a worthy cause. Plus, the exposure would be a huge boost to his career.
"All done, ladies. Thank you. I have a feeling your pictures will be the best I take all evening."
As Daniel lowered his camera, his gaze returned to Bryce.
"Taking photographs must be thirsty work." Bryce winked at Calder before she turned her smile on Daniel. "Why don't we get some champagne and you can tell me all about f-stops."
Dazzled, Daniel held out his arm, and the two disappeared into the crowd.
"Only Bryce could make f-stop sound like a dirty word," Andi chuckled.
"Speaking of champagne, I'm in the mood for some bubbly," Destry declared. "Who wants to join me?"
Calder motioned over one of the roaming waiters. He presented them with three filled glasses.
"To Calder." Andi raised her wine. "Once again, you've surpassed yourself. The gala is an unqualified success."
"To Calder," Destry agreed.
"Thank you." Calder clinked glasses with her sisters. "But I did have a little help."
"Don't be modest. You—" Destry let out a sigh as her gaze landed on something over Calder's shoulder. "Oh, boy."
"What?" Calder looked to her right.
"Nothing we haven't seen before. Brace yourself. Here comes Mommy."
Their mother loved to make an entrance. Why should tonight be any different? Her look at me routine was polished, shiny—and annoyingly familiar.
One Way or Another: A Friends to Lovers Contemporary Romance (The Sisters Quartet Book 1) Page 24
