“Maybe,” I replied. “I don’t know. God, I can’t believe I found him.”
“You sound happy,” she said.
I nodded. “Yes. Everything is going really well.”
“I’m glad.” Becky paused. “But what about LA? The last time we talked you said you weren’t crazy about the idea of settling down there forever. Too much Botox.”
I chuckled. “It’s different from the east coast, that’s for sure. I love the weather here, but I really miss the snow. And I never imagined I’d ever raise my kids so far from Mom and Dad.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “Sometimes I feel torn between coming here for the summers to be with Kate, and going home to be with them.”
“But Dad’s busy in Washington,” I reminded her, hoping to ease any guilt she might be feeling. “It’s not like they have a lot of spare time to be full-time parents like they used to be. Not that we need that anyway. You and I are fully cooked. And I’m sure they want you to get to know Kate better. They’re not feeling rejected, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, I’m not worried about that,” she said. “Mom’s been really supportive, and she and Kate talk on the phone all the time. They’re getting to be good friends. How weird is that?”
“I’m sure they have lots to talk about,” I replied, imagining what two mothers of the same daughter might want to share with each other.
“So are you going to bring Rick up here for Race Week?” Becky asked, steering the conversation back to its original thread. “I’d like to meet him.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, then we moved on to other things, like the hot guy Becky had met a few weeks ago at the yacht club. Apparently, he owned a winery in the Annapolis Valley. I was keen to hear more.
Chapter Fifteen
IT’S STRANGE HOW it didn’t even occur to me that the peculiar things that happened to me that summer resembled what had happened to Becky when she was reunited with her birth mother. The fact that they’d found each other at all still seems like a miracle to me, and I suppose I could say the same about my own bizarre experience that year.
“You like to get around, don’t you?” a client said to me one morning when I met him for the first time at the office. He wore blue coveralls, he reeked of fuel oil, and he desperately needed to scrub the grease out from under his fingernails.
I half chuckled, because I believed humor was usually the best method of diffusing a potentially awkward situation. “I beg your pardon?”
“I saw you last week when I went to talk to my wife’s lawyer. We chatted. Don’t you remember? You were sitting at the front desk.”
This made no sense to me. “At the front desk... I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What law firm?”
“Perkins and McPhee. They handle divorces, too. Last week you were there. Now you’re here. Wait a second. You’re not one of those corporate moles, are you? Are you working for them?”
Mr. Casey regarded me with suspicion as he took a seat in one of the leather chairs facing my desk. I moved around the desk to sit down. “I’ve been working here faithfully for two years,” I told him, “and I don’t work anywhere else. Are you sure you’re remembering correctly?”
I was familiar with the legal firm of Perkins and McPhee. They had a reputation as ambulance chasers, and did those cheesy television commercials, shouting into the camera liked used car salesmen.
He stared at me with a look of confusion. “I’m sure it was you... I think.”
I straightened some papers on my desk and decided that my client was muddled from all the stress of his messy divorce. “It was probably someone who looked like me,” I suggested. “So tell me, how can I help you, Mr. Maxwell? How long have you and your wife been separated?”
He frowned at me, then sat forward in his chair and uneasily began to answer my questions.
Three weeks later, I was on my way out of the courtroom when the security guard at the door said, “Are you a time traveler or something?”
Briefcase in hand, I stopped in my tracks. “I beg your pardon?”
I knew most of the security guards in the building, but this guy was new.
“Either you have a time machine,” he said, “or you’re freakin’ brilliant.”
I stared at him briefly, feeling slightly amused and shamelessly cocky after my impressive performance in court just moments before. “I don’t have a time machine,” I replied, “but I like to think I’m a teensy bit brilliant.” I smiled at him. “Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” He seemed rather insistent, which knocked me off kilter a bit.
The last few stragglers began to file out of the courtroom, so I had to step aside to clear the door.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
He waited for a few more people to pass between us, then explained, “Last week you were here dropping something off to your boss. We talked outside for ten minutes while we had a smoke. You said you were answering phones for your boss, but taking night classes so you could apply to law school. Now here you are, all decked out in a fancy suit, handling somebody’s divorce. I hope you’re not like that guy in that movie. The one who pretended to be a pilot and a doctor after he faked all his diplomas.”
“Catch Me If You Can,” I replied, then I shook my head. “First of all, I don’t smoke, and I assure you, I’m not a fraud. I graduated from UCLA law school.”
He grimaced and scratched his temple. “Then you must have a double.”
For a long moment I stared at him as I recalled the bizarre conversation I’d had with my client, Mr. Casey, who thought I was a spy, working for his wife’s lawyer.
Something strange was happening here, and I began to wonder if there truly was a mysterious doppelgänger out there – someone who looked just like me and was also working in the legal profession.
Or maybe it was something else...
I went home that night, poured a glass of wine, and immediately called Becky before Rick got home. “I’m so glad you answered,” I said. “The weirdest thing happened today.”
“What was it?”
I sank onto the sofa and watched storm clouds shift and roll across the sky. “Get this. The security guard in the courtroom thought I was someone he talked to recently, and he said she was my double. It’s the second time someone said that to me this month. A few weeks ago, a client said he saw me working at another firm.”
“That is weird,” Becky replied. “Maybe this woman’s a psycho who saw you in the tabloids and had plastic surgery to look just like you.”
I laughed softly and shook my head. “Thanks, sis. That helps a lot.”
“I’m just kidding. Did the guard tell you the woman’s name?”
“No, he didn’t know it, but my client told me the name of the firm where she worked. I think she’s a receptionist. Today the guard told me she wanted to go to law school. I’m kind of creeped out. You know what they say? If you see your double, it’s supposed to be a bad omen.”
“An omen of death, actually,” Becky informed me. “The poet, Percy Shelly, drowned himself after he saw his double.”
“Not helpful,” I said.
Becky’s voice was playful. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. But that’s just old folklore. Don’t worry about it. What are you going to do?”
We were both quiet for a moment.
“I’m curious about her,” I said.
“I don’t blame you.” Becky paused. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I lifted my feet and rested them on the tinted glass coffee table. “Yeah... probably. That I might have a twin?”
“Stranger things have happened,” she replied. “And it’s possible, because all three of us were adopted – you, me, and Adam.”
I inhaled deeply. “I wish I knew more about my birth family. All I know is that my mother died in childb
irth, but she’d had no other children, so this person who looks like me would have to be a twin, not just a regular sister. But if I had a twin, wouldn’t Mom and Dad have adopted both of us? I can’t imagine they’d let us be separated.”
I couldn’t bear to think that my parents would do something like that. It didn’t seem possible.
“Maybe they didn’t know.”
“Maybe she’s just someone who looks like me,” I said, secretly hoping that was the case, because the idea of having a long-lost twin seemed too much to comprehend. How would a person deal with something like that? It would change everything. My life would never be the same. And what if my new sister turned out to be someone I didn’t want to invite into my life? What if she was a druggie or a leech?
“I’m probably being ridiculous,” I said, “imagining that this person is my missing twin. It’s like something out of an old movie.”
“How can you find out?” Becky asked. “Can you go to her firm and see her? If she’s the receptionist, she’ll be right there to greet you when you walk through the door.”
I took my feet off the coffee table and shifted my position on the leather sofa, which creaked when I moved. I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I felt restless and uneasy.
“What if she is my exact double?” I asked. “How weird would that be, to look at a stranger and see your own mirror image? What would I say to her?”
“That’s a tough one,” Becky replied. “At least you’d be prepared, but if she’s never heard about you, she might have a heart attack when you walk through the door. Can you get someone else to go in and check? What about Rick? If he tells you she definitely is your identical twin, you can find out her name and maybe then you could call her, or send a letter. That would give her a chance to absorb everything and decide if she even wants to meet you.”
“That’s good advice.” I looked up when I heard a key in the door. “Rick’s home. I should go. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Call me later when you decide what you’re going to do,” Becky quickly replied.
I hung up and went to greet Rick at the door.
Chapter Sixteen
“I THINK THIS is the weirdest thing I ever heard,” Rick said, leaning back against the kitchen counter and sipping his wine. “But if you need someone to go check her out, I’m your guy. I’m pretty sure my morning’s clear tomorrow. I can go then, if you want.”
I slid my hand into an oven mitt, opened the stove door and withdrew a sizzling pan of broiled chicken. “Hand me that, will you?” I pointed to the serving dish on the center island.
Rick brought it over. “That smells great. What is that?”
“Ginger and lime,” I replied. “Now go grab the cucumber salad out of the fridge and we can eat.”
A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other at the table.
“What if she really is your twin sister?” he said, cutting into his chicken breast. “How will you handle that?”
I shook my head as I leaned over my plate. “I don’t know. It could be a really great thing. I’ve always wondered about my real family, and I have to admit, I was kind of jealous when Becky found her birth mother. I felt left out, like that would never happen to me, because my mother was dead. Part of me was afraid that Becky would drift away from me, because we weren’t really blood relatives, and she’d want to be with people who shared her genes. I was terrified of that.”
All my life I’d had sporadic nightmares of Becky being kidnapped or taken away. Was that possibly a residual memory of the moment I was separated from my twin at birth? Had I never truly recovered from that trauma?
Get a grip, I said to myself. I still didn’t know for sure if this woman was my twin. Maybe all this was just a silly delusion.
“Lots of people share the same genes,” Rick said, “but they can’t stand each other. You and Becky are close. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
I picked up my wine and took a sip. “I’m nervous about this,” I said, “but I can’t possibly ignore it. I need to know who this woman is. Could you go over there for me tomorrow? I’d really appreciate it.”
His mouth curved into an irresistibly devastating grin, and I melted like butter. “How grateful would you be, exactly?” he asked.
I set down my fork and gave him the look he wanted – the look that answered his question with a sensuous smile.
We went to bed early that night without putting away the dishes.
The next morning, we kissed each other good-bye in the front seat of his Audi when he dropped me off at work.
“You’ll call me as soon as you see her?” I asked, gathering up my purse before I got out.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll call you soon.”
I stepped onto the curb and felt a rush of nervous butterflies invade my belly as I watched him drive away.
Chapter Seventeen
AN HOUR LATER, I was seated at my desk with a cup of coffee, reviewing a file. I nearly jumped out of my chair when my cell phone rang. I scrambled to pick it up.
“Hi,” I said, recognizing Rick’s number in the call display. “What happened? I’m going nuts here.”
“Well...” he replied, taking his good old time to elaborate. “I did see her, and there’s no doubt about it.”
He paused, and I waited, breath held, for him to continue.
“There’s no doubt about what?” I pressed.
“That she looks exactly like you. Seriously, Di, I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was in some kind of parallel universe, because she didn’t know who the hell I was. She has to be your twin, unless this is a sci-fi flick and she’s your robotic clone.”
I stood up and moved to the window to look out at the city below. “Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah, though I played it cool. I said I was looking for the restroom and she gave me directions. Her voice was just like yours, too. It was so weird.”
“Did you get her name?”
“Yeah, there was a name plate on the desk. It said Nadia Carmichael. I double checked before I left and I even said, ‘Thanks, Nadia,’ and she said, ‘No problem.’”
I felt my eyebrows pull together in dismay. “My God. You’re sure she looked exactly like me? She wasn’t just... similar?”
“She’s your mirror image, Di, and that can’t be a coincidence. You know that little beauty mark above your lip. She even has that, but on the opposite side. I don’t know much about the science of this stuff, but there’s no way she could be anything but your identical twin sister.”
I felt slightly nauseous all of a sudden, and returned to my chair to sit down. “I can’t believe this. What should I do?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I have to get to work. Let’s talk it over when we get home.”
“You’re not free for lunch?” I asked, feeling desperate to know more about his brief encounter with the twin I never knew I had.
“I have to meet a client,” he said, “but I’ll come home early tonight. I’ll bring Chinese.”
“Okay.”
I hung up and swiveled in my chair to look out the window at the city skyline.
Was all of this really happening? Did I truly have a flesh and blood twin sister?
Who was she? What was she like? Where had she been all this time?
And did she know about me?
Chapter Eighteen
THAT NIGHT, RICK told me everything about how he had walked into the reception area of Perkins and McPhee, and was greeted by a woman who looked exactly like me. He told me he’d been stricken speechless – an odd response from a man who was always suave and had a clever reply for everything.
“I thought about telling her the truth,” he said, using his chopsticks to scoop his chow mein noodles out of the box, “but I wasn’t sure you’d want me to. You need to think about this, Di. If she is your twin, it’s going to change everything. If you meet her and tell her who you are, there will be no turning back. It’ll
be like a marriage. She’ll be part of your family forever.”
I listened to what he was saying and knew he was right about the permanence of such a connection. There were so many issues to consider. How would this affect the family I already had? I was fortunate to have two amazing parents who loved me more than life itself. I never once felt less valued because I was adopted. They made me believe I was special and rare, and they told me they were blessed to have found me.
Maybe it was selfish, but I didn’t want to give up my distinctiveness, my special individuality either. If there was another person exactly like me, wouldn’t that make me less of an original?
And what if my twin was a better version of me? What if she was wittier, smarter, or more kindhearted?
I knew my family. If they opened their hearts to her, they would do so with love. Would that make me suddenly half as important to them? Would I stand in my twin sister’s shadow because she was new, and because she’d been lost to us – might need extra attention? Or would she always stand in my shadow?
And what about her family? Would they welcome me as a daughter? Would I even want that? I didn’t know anything about them.
“How did she seem?” I asked Rick, as I poured more chicken fried rice onto my plate.
“What do you mean?
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Did she seem confident? Smart?”
I wanted desperately to know more, to know every last detail about the kind of woman she was. Had she been adopted by loving parents like mine? Did she have siblings to replace the twin she’d lost? Or did she grow up as an only child with abusive parents who lived in a ghetto?
The notion of such a life for my twin stabbed me in the gut, and I knew in that moment that I was already deeply involved – whether I wanted to be or not. I couldn’t possibly walk away now, no matter what sort of person she turned out to be. I needed to know the truth, and I needed to know that she was okay.
“I only spoke to her for a minute,” Rick said, “but she wasn’t as...” He stopped.
The Color of Heaven Series [03] The Color of Hope Page 4