“That was the idea.” Charley raised and dropped her arms against her sides. “I’m supposed to be eighteen, remember?”

“But, you’re always eighteen.” Lily swung back around the island and resumed her activities.

“Yeah, but two-hundred eighteens doesn’t make me eighteen in today’s terms. It’s like inflation-you gotta upgrade and pay for it each time.” Charley chuckled.

“You know-” Lily waved the Food Network chopping knife. “I actually understood that.”

With the weapon in its rightful place, Charley considered re-asking her question, though she maneuvered herself atop a bar stool and stole a carrot beforehand.

The kitchen, while Lily’s domain, remained one of Charley’s favorite places. The bright, red, black and white design had been Lily’s doing. The youngest of the four, her wild spirit infused their home.

“So, uh, Lil?” Charley pitched her voice over Lily’s repetitive chop.

“Yeah?”

“What are you making?” Moving from the colander to the pot in a matter of seconds, Charley couldn’t tell a red pepper from a tomato as they slid in and around.

“Just a stew.” Lily continued to chop and slide.

Much like Charley, Lily had taken on a young persona. She, James and Cael all found themselves in the realm of the teenage years again-each for different reasons.

Unlike Charley, who preferred locks and softness, Lily chose a wispy, iron-flat, mid-back blonde and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt to suit her age. No one would have believed someone so young could be a master chef-completely at home in her state-of-the-art, stainless steel, double-oven, multi-sink paradise.

Charley propped her elbows on the speckled-black granite, tilted her head to peel off one contact lens; she repeated with the other. Gone were the blue and in their place, the color of her kind. She let her chin rest against clasped fingers.