Cover by James Van Zeeland 


    (Sequel to Danielle)







       In the genre of Krantz and Sheldon, DANIELLE’S LEGACY is an exciting, fast-paced, contemporary drama with three concurrent story lines running throughout the entire script. It depicts the evolutionary journey of three sisters, each young woman's account effectively interwoven with other family members in a realistic, suspenseful tale of perpetual motion.

       Albeit the three siblings inherit a sizable fortune early on, this saga is no superficial treatment of the jet-setting glitz and glamour clique by any stretch of the imagination.

       It is, however, a poignant, fictional anecdote, exemplifying the nineteen steps of C: Courage, Cowardice, Celibacy, Carnality, Consciousness, Chaos, Compassion, Contempt, Commitment, Condemnation, Candor, Cunning, Charity, Collusion, Clairvoyance, Confinement, Camaraderie, Confrontation and finally, Contrition.

       The Paris skyline adds extra mystique as these unassuming sisters vigilantly pursue their long-range career and humanitarian goals Yes, there are romantic liaisons along the way. However, the book also embodies high-tension and suspense as family and friends react to all the testy tribulations hurled at them  rather frequently. Their pathways are imbued with intrigue, deception, eroticism, mystery, extreme danger, sexual degeneracy and life threatening social disease, all spontaneously presented to shatter each young woman's naïveté.

       Enter old family friend, J.D. MacCaulley , Private Investigator, from the States. Only hours after his arrival in France, the detective becomes deeply embroiled in more than he'd bargained for: larger than-life fiascoes loom on the horizon, perpetuating into cases of life or death scenarios.


-SUZANNE, a fashion designer, is touted to be the next Chanel. Business partner, handsome and seductive Claudio Fabrizi, finds the workaholic designer a sexual challenge.


-TAMARA-identical twin to Theresa is the total consummate extrovert. Her business education is held in suspension as she fulfills her girlhood fantasy of warbling seductive ballads on a fun-filled cruise ship, much to the chagrin of her celebrity mother and entrepreneur stepfather. Encountering a swarthy, handsome stranger changes the course of her life, forcing her to attain maturity in a matter of months.


-THERESA-the picture of serenity; this future Psychologist's love interest is the catalyst for the lady's spiritual quest and resultant private studies with a young Catholic priest. Her inherent tranquility is repeatedly fragmented when she is confronted with many of life's temptations and social ills.

       From the cityscape of Paris to the azure blue waters of the Bahamas, the reader is taken on an imposing journey, breath held in suspension as each new enigmatic encounter unfolds. This page turner is guaranteed to touch the hearts of the reader, satisfying the mind at its conclusion with cathartic relief.


       Ms. McCall penned this novel with the idea of reaching the masses, addressing those up-to-date topics which are both controversial and entertaining. However, her initial motivation was outrage. Plain, unadulterated rage after reading the book, "When Rabbit Howls", the story of a woman with multiple personalities who, along with her other siblings, was sexually abused repeatedly by the father. To compound this obscene horror, this father, free as a bird today, subjected his children to copulation with animals. The author was obsessively driven to write about incestuous pedophilia, creating the character of little Jean Pierre LeDuc, the smallest of victims, yet one who gets rescued in his very early youth.

       This work is timely; feeling the issue of safe sex has not been properly explored within some fictional accounts, the author tastefully, yet conspicuously, addressed this within the interpersonal scenes.

        Filled with many riddles, the sub-mysteries are guaranteed to keep the reader excitedly flipping pages simply to glean the identity of the "evildoers" or victimizers.

       This offering has no shortage in the romance department, yet there is depth and an underlying message to the relationships. It embraces the totality: Body, Mind and Spirit. Today's modern woman demands no less.

       The personification of the character, Theresa, allows each of us to dig down deeply . . . into our heart and soul, and recognize who we are. We are not bodies with a spirit; we are spirits wearing Clothing: our bodies. Theresa gives us hope for the future, for mankind. Thus, a spiritual message for all peoples, everywhere.






HOMER C. (700 b.c.)


   P R O L O G U E


       In a spacious, luxurious apartment on the outskirts of Paris, France, an aristocratic dowager sat in her large bedroom suite, regally positioned in her favorite, mauve Queen Ann chair. She was desperately fighting for that last surge of energy. Even though she was frail, she presented a picture of royalty with her snow white coif and her Dior lounging caftan.

       It had only been a month ago that her family physician had signed her into the hospital for extensive tests, but a positive prognosis had not been forthcoming. The matriarch of the European Chappell family had been diagnosed with wide spread colon cancer. The elderly woman had chosen not to undergo broad chemotherapy, understanding that it would only prolong her life a few months. Instead, she requested that she be made as comfortable and pain-free as possible in her remaining days. She'd lived a long, extremely prosperous and exciting life, and now it was probably time to savor the memories of her cumulative years.

       She had beseeched her doctor and old family friend to keep her alive long enough to attend the much heralded wedding of her favorite nephew to a young, lovely woman who had become her surrogate daughter.

       People magazine had proclaimed the engaged duo to be one of the `World's Most Beautiful Couples' and curious folks from far and wide were clamoring for that special wedding invitation.

       But even more that, it was particularly important for Madame Chappell to be reassured that her three surrogate granddaughters had some kind of sensible plan mapped out for their futures. She worried about them extensively because they had grown into such lovely young women, but were still untainted in the ways of the world.

       She had also pondered at length as to how their mother's forthcoming marriage would affect them.

       The three girls and their mother had lived together as a unit for most of the girls' lives and had formed an ironclad bond that was hard to penetrate. She feared their mother's possible inaccessibility in the future might produce some sort of emotional trauma for the girls. Yes, she had to go to her grave knowing that the three Stanhope sisters had stepped up to the drawing board and designed a responsible schematic for their future days. She felt somewhat mollified in knowing she had the power to ensure their financial independence, not even questioning for one moment what her overly generous endowment might provoke.

       Straining to reach her chair side pull, Madame Chappell summoned her long-standing, faithful secretary and companion to her side. It seemed only seconds before a gray-haired, middle-aged woman appeared, hastening her step as she saw her employer's frustration in getting out of the over-stuffed chair.

       "What can I do for you, Alyce?" she asked kindly, steadying the older woman and helping her to an upright position. The two women had long ago abandoned any sort of formality with Madame Alyce Chappell insisting upon being addressed by her first name. After all, weren't they friends and partners-in-crime, so to speak?

       "Please call my solicitor and have him come by this afternoon," the elderly woman replied in a still strong, resonant voice. The secretary looked puzzled. "He was just here, Alyce."

      "I know that," the dowager replied a bit irritably. "I want to see him again! Just to reassure myself."

        The companion knew better than to argue. Madame had been her employer for countless years and when she made a decision, she never relented.

      "As you wish," came the resigned response before the woman hurried to the doorway, intent upon getting the Madame's lawyer on the wire.

       Alyce Chappel's tone softened now, reverting to her true, sweet self. She hated what the damn festering disease and medication were doing to her senses and disposition.

     "And, my dear?" she called out.

      Her devoted companion paused in step, "Yes?"

      "Are we all packed for tomorrow's wedding? The limousine's been alerted? The motorized wheelchair has been delivered?" she fretted.

      "Don't worry, Alyce, everything has been taken care of," she was reassured.

       The Dowager slowly crossed the room to retrieve her new fangled present: a modern, computerized telephone that the new bride's daughters had given her for her birthday. According to them, they had programmed her most frequently called numbers and all she had to do was press one little button alongside the appropriate person's name.

       Her nephew had recently moved onto Madame Chappel's countryside estate, an early wedding gift, and she hoped he would be at home now.

        Pushing the button next to the chateau's listing, she listened impatiently as the instrument rhythmically clicked out the preprogrammed numbers, shaking her head the whole time at the wonders of space-age technology.

       A new employee answered her ring promptly and inquired as to the caller's identity.

       "Please put the master of the manor on the phone," the dowager commanded, wanting none of this person's crisp decorum.

       Following a brief interlude, the receiver was picked up and a comfortable conversation began to flow.

      "You sound a little grumpy," the dowager's nephew, Beauregard Beaudet, commented. "It's so unlike you. Are you feeling really badly?"

       "I'm sorry, my dear," she apologized wearily. "I'm nervous and fidgety. I don't much relish being confined to the apartment like this."

       "Are you calling just to chat?" Beau asked her patiently.

       "Not really. I'm just calling to make sure the wedding is still on," she stated, holding her breath.

       Silently, Beau became exasperated. The last few months had taken its toll on his nerves, and he was finally placated a bit, albeit some tension and worry seemed to creep into the corners of his mind at the most inopportune times.

       He sucked in a few deep breaths, counting to ten before he answered. "Of course, it is," he feigned joviality. "Can't cancel at this late date. We'd have to alert two continents." He, himself, wouldn't believe his dream of a lifetime would truly come to fruition until he actually heard the minister pronounce the marriage valid. He heard a contented sigh on the other end. His dear, sweet aunt, who was now dying so graciously, only wanted his happiness. All of their nerves had been frazzled lately, almost to the point of no repair.

       "I will see you tomorrow, my dear," he heard his aunt say.

      "Hang in there, Alyce," he told her soothingly. "We both want to spend some time with you after the wedding."

       "The honeymoon," she protested.

       "To heck with the honeymoon!"

        Alyce paused a moment, wondering whether to broach the subject or not. Hang it, she told herself, saying, "My dear, I do worry about the three girls. They've been so close to their mother and I wonder if they might resent you a tiny bit?"

       Beau sighed again. He didn't even want to discuss the subject, but placated his dear aunt all the same.

        "Alyce, we've all become very close and I give you my solemn promise to watch over them and help them at every juncture."

        "Good," she responded. "I'm very relieved."

       As Alyce Chappell thought of Suzanne, the oldest Stanhope daughter and the twins, Tamara and Theresa, sudden tiny goose bumps began popping up like little crop circles on her thin, frail arms, the hair follicles standing on end. She'd always been psychically in tune with the Stanhope women, and as her mind scanned what she was feeling and seeing, a heavy shudder ran through her body. Falling back against the bed pillows, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to obliterate what was coursing through her head. She struggled to abolish any negative thoughts and focus on a more positive image.

       However, the pictures still assailed her and she somehow knew that while the girls' next year would be filled with love and hope, there were other unsavory emotions that promised to inundate them, jumping right onto their pathways. She was just too, too weary to address any of it. All she could do now is pray, fervently pray for all of them . . .

                                  An excerpt From Chapter 26

	Tamara stripped off her bikini and stretched out on her stomach,
hoping to get a flawless even tan on her backside. Raul wasn't that 
intent upon erasing his tan lines and lay on his back, a brief bikini bottom
covering his masculinity.
	"This is what people are envisioning when they speak of paradise,"
Tamara muttered from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.
	Raul had been absent-mindedly thinking of other things, but her 
voice nudged  him. "What? Yes...paradise."
	"Is anything the matter?" Tamara pumped him. He'd acted 
extremely disoriented  since early that morning.
	He shook his head. "No...just drifting back to business," he replied.
	She rolled over, exposing her bare breasts to the sun and to her
	"We weren't going to think of those things, remember?"
	An ironic smile touched his lips.  "It's easy to forget when you're
flaunting that seductive body at me," he teased.
	"Flaunting?  You were the one who said this pseudo nudist camp 
was almost non-sexual."
	"I lied, Amada," he confessed, his hand reaching over to fondle one 
full  mound of flesh, teasing and taunting her.
	"I knew you did," she said smugly, starting to make little purring 
noises deep within her throat.  "You'd better stop or we'll both be in 
	"Come here and sit on my lap," he commanded, a definite leer in his
	She pushed up her sunglasses.  "What have you been reading, the 
Kama Sutra?" she asked, dismayed.
	"Exactly," he chuckled.  "Now come here."
	She did as she was told and very quickly was transported to another 
time space universe where passion, exhilaration and rapture inundated
one's being and reigned supreme.
	After replacing their suits, they slowly began the trek back up to the
	"How do I love thee, let me count the ways, Elizabeth said to  Robert.
 I wonder if she read the Kama Sutra?" Tamara commented drolly.
	Raul chuckled on and on, saying, "The Brownings had a great love, 
so she no doubt read it."
	"She was a semi-invalid."
	"They were both very creative with terrific imaginations."
	It was her turn to laugh.  
	Raul stopped and tilted her up chin. "Amada?" he said intently.   
	"Are we like the  Brownings?"
	She leaned back and studied the seriousness of his expression. "Do 
you want us to be?" she asked just as earnestly.
	A smile lit his eyes and he nodded.
	Her hands cupped his taut derriere and pulled at his body so that it
was  perfectly molded into hers. "Then so be it. We are like the Brownings 
. . . in every way possible. "She said honestly, standing on tiptoes to kiss 
each of his eyes and then his malleable, full lips.
	They continued their journey up the hill, along the decking and 
through the patio door.  Tamara was the first one through the door and 
shrieked in outright horror at what greeted them . . . .
                You'll have to read the book to find out what 
                                       happens next!

Now . . . onto Book Three