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a decade younger.
    Mr. Worthington was already seated at the head of the table. Alyce kissed him on the cheek and swooped into the chair at his right hand, earning daggered looks from several of the blue-hairs.
    The meeting progressed swiftly, with only a minor skirmish when several of the vanguard protested Alyce’s plan to buy heavily from the lines of the season’s hottest designers. She quashed them with one upraised eyebrow and a clipped comment about who was in charge of fashion.
    When Brooke’s turn came, she updated the gathering on the Christmas windows, which had been under development for months.
    “And what’s upcoming?” Mr. Worthington asked. He peered at her through his heavy horn-rimmed glasses. “Anything to make my hair turn white?”
    The department heads laughed heartily. The old man’s hair had once been snowy white. Now not a strand remained.
    Brooke pulled out the sketches for her February windows. “We’re doing lingerie for Valentine’s Day.”
    The nearest coworker, who’d gotten a glimpse of the top drawing, let out a gasp.
    As a group, the vanguard leaned in for a look, scowling already. Not good.
    Only Alyce nodded approvingly.
    Brooke steeled herself to continue. Old Man Worthington was friends with her grandfather, Admiral Henry Winfield. He liked her, sort of. “As you’ll see in the drawings, my theme is Sweet Nothings…”

Chapter 3
    Brooke was forced to interrupt her busy day to race back to Brookline to keep a lunch date with her grandparents and sisters. Henry and Evelyn Winfield were old money and old school. They couldn’t seem to grasp that their granddaughters’ careers might take precedence over a command performance at the family estate.
    When the invitations came down, Brooke, Joey and Katie dutifully showed up, even if that meant rearranging their schedules.
    “Where’s Katie?” Brooke whispered to Joey as soon as their grandmother excused herself to check on the kitchen staff. They were seated in the front parlor with less-than-stiff drinks—tonic water and lime.
    “She made an excuse.” Joey wrinkled her nose. “Something creative, like going ballooning at sunrise with a million-dollar client. You know how good she is at coming up with that stuff.”
    Katie was a party girl first and graphic artist second, so her flights of fancy were often true. Brooke envied that. But then, Katie was the youngest and had always been granted more license to experiment, even from their grandparents.
    She was indulged.
    Brooke was scolded. She’d heard the same refrain, seemingly from birth: As the oldest, she must set a proper example for her sisters by living up to Winfield standards.
    Her late father had been a Navy man, strict but loving. He’d expected achievement and obedience from all of his daughters. Her mother had tried not to apply that pressure, but since she’d also knuckled under to the Winfield rules, for the most part, Brooke had taken her cues from Daisy. While Brooke’s rebellions were rare, she had made a few stands—a preference for rock music, the insistence on an artistic career, her refusal to marry Marcus Finch, a family friend who’d received their stamp of approval.
    No wonder her inner wild woman was buried so deep. She had generations of Winfield expectations to dig out from under.
    “I wish I dared try that,” Brooke said with a sigh, thinking of Katie’s excuses.
    Maybe her conduct, too. Perhaps the Martinis and Bikinis club would give Brooke the boost she needed in that direction. Taking a dare might not be the most terrible thing in the world.
    Joey leaned back in a chintz wing chair with her legs crossed. Her navy pinstripe suit was both conservative and sexy at the same time, an interesting effect caused by a jacket that was a little too tight and a skirt that was a little too short.
    She swung a foot in circles while she studied Brooke. “Something’s up with you.”
    Brooke started. “How’d you know?”
    “You have that