Holiday In the Hamptons

by Sarah Morgan

“You have to tell her.”

  Fliss rolled her eyes to the sky. Yet another problem to solve. Usually life sent the boulders, but in her case she seemed to manage to throw them into her own path. “I will. Soon.”

  “How is she? I’m worried about her.”

  “Well, apart from the fact I almost died of shock when I saw her because ‘a few bruises’ turned out to be a massive bruise that covered pretty much the whole of her body, she seems remarkably like herself.”

  “And they’re sure nothing was broken?”

  “So they said. We’re using ice on the bad parts.”

  “Which are the bad parts?”

  “Actually, they’re all bad. It’s finding some body that isn’t bruised that’s the challenge. And talking of which, I should go and help her. We’re doing it every few hours to reduce the bruising and swelling.”

  “You won’t be coming home soon, then?”

  “No.” And now she was trapped here with Seth. The irony didn’t escape her. “Poor Grams.”

  “Yes. Tell her the truth, Fliss. She’ll understand that it feels awkward with Seth.”

  Would she? How could her grandmother understand something she didn’t understand herself? It shouldn’t be awkward, should it? Not after ten years.

  Brooding on it, she ended the call and wandered back into the house. She removed ice packs from the freezer and then lifted a jug of iced tea from the fridge and took it to her grandmother, who was resting in the living room.

  Sunlight spilled through the large windows, illuminating the soft, overstuffed sofas that faced each other across the room. The pale blue fabric was worn in places, but they were soft and comfortable—built for snuggling. Her grandmother had believed in the importance of reading time, and Fliss had spent many hours curled up with a book. She’d pretended she’d rather be outdoors on the beach, but secretly she’d enjoyed the quiet family time that was absent at home. Harriet had preferred Jane Austen or Georgette Heyer, but Fliss had veered toward adventure stories. Moby Dick. The Last of the Mohicans.

  “Grams?” She paused in the doorway, and her grandmother turned her head, a smile on her face.

  Fliss felt a stab of shock. “The bruising on your face is bad. Is it worse?”

  “Just changing color.” She held out her hand for the tea. “Don’t fuss.”

  “I don’t fuss.” And then she remembered that if she was Harriet, she’d be fussing. “Poor you. Let me help you ice it.”

  She put a thin cloth between the ice pack and her grandmother’s skin as the doctor had demonstrated. “I’ve never seen bruising like this.”

  “It will fade.”

  “Maybe you should stay out of the garden from now on.”

  “Nonsense. I was looking out of the window a moment ago, worrying about what’s happening to my plants while I’m trapped here immobile.”

  “If you tell me which plants, I can do whatever needs to be done.” Fliss poured tea into a glass.

  “You’re a good girl.”

  Fliss felt like a fraud. She wasn’t a good girl. She was a liar and a fraud.

  She had a sudden urge to blurt out everything to her grandmother, but she couldn’t face seeing disappointment on her face. Or finding ways to dodge the inevitable questions about Seth.

  “Anything you need,” she murmured, and wandered back into the kitchen to throw together a salad for supper. As long as she didn’t actually have to cook anything, she could keep this up for a while. Even she couldn’t burn salad.

  She was chopping tomatoes, focused on trying to make each piece as neat and uniform as Harriet would, when there was a knock on the door.

  Her heart sank. She hadn’t factored in visitors. This deception was spreading before her eyes, like a drop of ink spilled into water.

  She tipped the tomatoes in with the lettuce and hoped whoever it was would go away.

  “Harriet?” Her grandmother’s voice came from the living room, and she bowed to the inevitable.

  “I’ll get it.”

  Hopefully it would be one of the neighbors with a casserole. At least then she’d only have to reheat. She was a champion reheater. And accepting a casserole could happen without worry about anyone suspecting her identity.

  She opened the door, replacing her “why are you bothering me?” look with what she hoped was a reasonable imitation of Harriet’s wide, welcoming smile.

  The smile died on the spot.

  It was Seth, standing shoulder to shoulder with another man she’d met only once before in her life. At her wedding.

  Chase Adams.

  Holy crap, she was totally and utterly screwed.

  It didn’t help that Seth leaned his arm against the doorjamb, all muscle and male hotness.

  “Hi, Harriet, we just wanted to drop by and say that if you need any help, all you have to do is ask. You already know Chase, of course. He has a whole team of people who can fix anything that needs fixing in the house.”

  “We haven’t met in person, but my wife, Matilda, talks about you a lot.” Chase shook her hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, Harriet. I’m sorry for your grandmother, but her misfortune is my fortune because it brought you here and I need a favor.”

  A favor?

  Right now she wasn’t in the mood for favors.

  She just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

  “Good to meet you, too.” More lies, all piling one on top of the other. She wondered how long it would take for the weight of them to topple the pile. With luck, they’d knock her unconscious when they fell. “How can I help you?”

  “You know Matilda is due in four weeks, and you also know Hero is a bit of a handful. As you’re going to be walking your grandmother’s dog, I wondered if you’d mind walking Hero, too, while you’re here. You can drop in and see Matilda at the same time. I know she’d be thrilled to see you. She hasn’t had a chance to meet that many people here, so she’d be pleased to see a friend, and you already walk Hero back in Manhattan, so you know all his little quirks.”

  Fliss stared at him.

  She didn’t know any of that.

  All she knew was that she was doomed.

  “Sure,” she croaked. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  Except perhaps sticking her head in a bucket of freezing water and inhaling.

  * * *

  SETH STROLLED TO the car. “Thanks for your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” Chase paused by the car. “Matilda talks about Harriet all the time. The two of them have become friendly.”

  “And that’s a problem because…?”

  “It’s not a problem. It’s just that—” he turned to look at the house, a frown on his face “—Harriet didn’t seem too enthusiastic at the idea of meeting up with Matilda.”

  Seth unlocked the car. “That’s because that wasn’t Harriet. That was Fliss.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You were talking to Fliss.”

  “So why did she say she was Harriet?”

  “Because that’s what she wants me to think.”

  “But—wait a minute. You’re saying she’s pretending to be her twin?” Chase stared at him, bemused. “Why? What possible reason could she have for doing that?”

  “Me. I’m the reason. She’s avoiding me.”

  “Avoiding—?” Chase shook his head. “But you’re here anyway.”

  “Let me put this another way—she’s avoiding having to have a conversation with me as herself.”

  “I’ve deciphered tax returns less complicated than this. You were married! Why would she think she can fool you?”

  “We haven’t seen each other in ten years. She probably thought I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. That I wouldn’t know.”

  But he knew. He knew her. Every detail.

  “How long did it take you to work it out?”

  “About ninety seconds. I mentioned cookies, and she panicked.” It had been fleeting, but he’d seen it. It had been enough to convin
ce him that he was looking at Fliss.

  “She has a phobia about cookies?”

  “No, but she is a terrible cook. They had to call the fire department after one of her attempts.”

  His friend grinned. “Does her grandmother realize?”

  “I would imagine so. She’s a pretty smart woman.”

  “So are you going to tell Fliss you know?”

  “No. I’m going to let her carry on being ‘Harriet’ until she decides to tell me the truth.”

  “Why?”

  Lulu rolled onto her back hopefully, and Seth crouched down to rub her belly. “First, because if we keep up the pretense then she has no reason to avoid me.”

  “None of this makes sense. If she was avoiding you, why would she be here in the first place?”

  “She knew I was in Manhattan and didn’t realize it was temporary. She came here to reduce the chances of running into me.” And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? It was good that she was unsettled enough by his presence to go to those lengths. Not so good that she was so afraid of facing him she was prepared to conceal her identity.

  Chase unlocked the car. “You have one hell of an effect on women, Carlyle. Next you’ll be telling me she pushed Grandma down the stairs to give herself a reason to come here.”

  Seth laughed. “No, but I suspect she grabbed that excuse like a drowning man might grab a life preserver.”

  “So if Grandma is the life preserver, what does that make you? The big bad crocodile waiting in the water to eat her alive?” Chase paused by the car. “And tell me what the ‘second’ is.”

  “Second?”

  “You said first you’d keep up the pretense so that she has no reason to avoid you. That means there’s a ‘second.’”

  “Second is that while she is ‘Harriet,’ I hope to be able to tackle some issues she wouldn’t discuss as Fliss.”

  “Are you going to kiss her?” Chase looked intrigued. “Maybe she’ll be the first woman in history to break up with a guy because she’s jealous of herself.”

  “I’m not going to kiss her. And we won’t be breaking up because we’re not dating.”

  “How long is this going to carry on?”

  “Until she tells me who she is.” Seth rose to his feet. “Do me a favor—play along, will you?”

  “I’m no good at subterfuge. I almost wish you hadn’t told me.”

  “You’re going back to Manhattan. You won’t see much of her anyway.”

  “What do I do about Matilda? Do I tell her the truth?”

  “I think you should leave that up to Fliss.”

  “I don’t want Matilda hurt.” There was a steely edge to Chase’s tone that only ever appeared when he thought someone was trying to take advantage of his wife.

  “Fliss won’t hurt her. I suspect right now she’s on the phone to Harriet trying to work out a way to unravel this.”

  “I can’t believe she came up with such a complicated plan.”

  “I don’t think there was a plan. I don’t think she came here intending to emulate Harriet. I think she came as herself, but then she met me on the roadside, panicked and said the first thing that came into her head.”

  “That doesn’t seem strange to you?”

  “No. It’s classic Fliss. She puts the imp in impulsive.”

  Chase gave him a long look, the steel in his eyes giving way to amusement and sympathy. “I guess that keeps things interesting.”

  “It certainly does.”

  Chase slapped him on the shoulder and slid into the car. “You have one hell of a complicated love life, my friend.”

  Seth glanced toward the house. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “KILL ME. Just kill me now.” Fliss lay on the bed with her eyes closed. She felt as if she’d been tangled up in a coil of webbing and couldn’t work her way free. “You need to come and swap places with me.”

  “So that I can sort out your mess? I don’t think so.”

  “You’re my sister.”

  “I’m doing this for your own good. You need to talk to him, Fliss.” Harriet was firm. “This is the perfect time to do it.”

  It didn’t feel perfect to her. “When Johnny Hill teased you about your stammer, did I make you punch him yourself?”

  “That’s different. I didn’t want to punch him.”

  “I wanted to punch him enough for both of us.”

  “We have a different approach to problem solving.”

  Fliss sighed. “This is partly your fault. Since when have you been besties with Matilda Adams?”

  “Since I started walking Hero. She’s a writer, so she’s often at home. Sometimes we have a coffee. I adore her.”

  “And you didn’t think to mention it?”

  “I’m sure I mentioned it.”

  “I don’t think so. I would have remembered a business opportunity like that. Do you know how rich Chase is? I mean, the guy practically owns Manhattan.”

  “Yes, but they only have one dog, so I don’t see the business opportunity.”

  “Neither do I yet, but there has to be one.”

  “Seth isn’t exactly struggling.”

  “He’s not a business opportunity. He’s a bad decision from my past.” One of the many. “Chase seemed pretty down-to-earth.”

  “So is Matilda. And they’re so in love.”

  Fliss heard the note of envy in her sister’s voice. That was the problem with never having been in love, she thought. It was all too easy to turn the idea into something wonderful, whereas the reality was more often than not painful. “I hope it lasts.”

  “Don’t be a cynic. Are you sure Seth doesn’t know who you really were?”

  “He doesn’t have a clue. What sort of things do you and Matilda talk about? Fill me in.”

  “You cannot pretend to be me when you’re with Matilda. I really like her. This has to end right now, Fliss!” There was a sharp note in Harriet’s voice that Fliss wasn’t sure she’d heard before.

  “If I tell her the truth she’ll tell Chase, and he’ll tell Seth.”

  “This is like a run in your panty hose. It starts small and then spreads.”

  “Which is why I never wear panty hose.” Fliss rolled onto her stomach, and her hair slid over her shoulder. “What breed of dog is Hero?”

  “A Doberman.”

  Fliss brightened. “That’s one piece of good news.”

  “I will never understand you. Most people would be wary of that breed.”

  “They’re misunderstood. I have sympathy for anyone who is misunderstood. And why are you worried? Is Hero likely to savage me?”

  “No. I don’t think anyone has told Hero he’s a Doberman. He’s having something of a breed identity crisis. He’s more likely to lick you to death.”

  “Good.”

  Reminding herself it was business, and she was never going to say no to business, Fliss made sure her grandmother was comfortable and then decided she might as well make the acquaintance of Matilda and her hopefully not-so-scary dog.

  The Adams residence was on a thirty-acre peninsula, with sweeping ocean views.

  Fliss almost got lost driving there. Finding the turn-in was the easy part because there was no missing the wrought iron security gates. It was locating the house at the end of the wide gravel drive that proved challenging. She drove past hedged lawns and spied a tennis court on the edge of her vision.

  “This drive is long enough to land a jumbo jet,” she muttered, lifting her eyebrows as the house finally came into view. One glance and she decided that “beach mansion” would have been a better description than “beach house.”

  She parked her convertible, thinking that at least one thing about her looked at home in these surroundings. The fact that her car was rented was an irony that didn’t escape her.

  Knowing how wealthy Chase Adams was, she’d already formed an impression in her head of Matilda Adams. She’d be
slim and elegant. Probably tall. Model-like in her proportions. One of those golden blondes who had hung around the beaches of the Hamptons when she was growing up. Girlie, with perfect hair and nails.

  Having fixed that image in her head, it was a shock when Matilda opened the door.

  She was tall, yes, but—

  Fliss blinked. “Jeez. Is that—er—blood on your shirt? Did someone die? Disposing of a body isn’t generally one of my services, but if the world is better off without whoever it was, I can make an exception.”

  “It’s cranberry juice. Hero knocked into me and I spilled an entire glass over myself. You know what I’m like. Coordination isn’t really my thing. Put me with an unruly dog, and together we have no chance. I was in the process of mopping up when you arrived.” Matilda tugged at the damp fabric of her shirt. “Thank goodness it’s you and not someone I’m trying to impress. It’s so good to see you, Harriet! When Chase told me you were here, I couldn’t believe it.”

  “You shouldn’t believe it,” Fliss said. “I’m not Harriet. I’m Fliss.”

  There. She’d said it. The first strand unraveled.

  Matilda stared at her. “But Chase said—”

  “Long story. Come to think of it, everything in my life is a long story. I don’t seem to manage the short, simple version. Forget novellas, I’m War and Peace meets Game of Thrones, without the dragons and dead people.”

  Matilda brightened. “In that case come inside. I want to hear everything.”

  Fliss eyed the red stain on her shirt. “You’re sure you don’t want to kill me?”

  “Definitely not.” Matilda flung the door open a little too enthusiastically and almost smacked herself in the face. “I love stories. I make my living writing stories. You’ll have to forgive my staring. You could totally be Harriet.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. Welcome to twindom.” Fliss stepped into the spacious hallway and gazed around her in disbelief. “Wow. Sorry, is that crass of me? I probably should have pretended I see houses like this all the time. In fact I thought I had seen plenty of big houses. It’s not as if there’s a shortage around here. But this is—”

  Matilda gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  “A little? Make that a lot.” She stared up at the domed ceiling. “The last time I saw a dome like that was in Florence, Italy.”