The Identicals(92)

“I’m going,” Tad says. He gets to the bottom step then turns around. “Will you be okay?”

Tabitha laughs, although nothing is funny. “Will I be okay?”

“I noticed you didn’t eat today,” Tad says. “I’m going to the Wolf’s Den for pizza. Why don’t you come with me?”

It’s nice of him to offer, but Tabitha is in no shape to socialize or venture out in public. Her stomach is in knots; she can’t imagine eating ever again.

“Where is he?” she asks Tad. “Richie said he got a phone call last night and just up and left. And no one has seen him since.”

Tad nods. “If I had to guess…” He lets out a stream of air.

“What?” Tabitha says. She doesn’t know Franklin well enough to even venture a guess. What would she guess? That Franklin is married, his wife has been away, and she returned earlier than expected, possibly with their four children in tow?

“I would say it’s a family matter,” Tad says.

Tabitha gasps, even as her suspicions are confirmed. “Is it my sister?”

“No,” Tad says. “I’m talking about Franklin’s family. His parents, his sister.”

“His parents?” Tabitha asks. “His sister?”

Tad raises a hand. “I’ve said more than I should have already,” he says. “Have a good night.”



Tabitha sits on the steps until dark, then she wanders inside. Will Franklin stay away another night? Apparently he will. She takes another Ambien, only one.



She wakes up at one thirty-five in the morning with an idea. The phone book is back on the mantel next to the urn containing Billy’s ashes. The Vineyard and Nantucket are probably the only communities left in America where phone books are indispensable—boat schedules, restaurant menus, addresses.

Addresses.

A check of Phelps offers the following:


Phelps, Albert and Lydia, 35 Edgartown Bay Road, ET

Phelps, Franklin, 10 Grovedale Road, OB

Phelps, Sadie, the Upper Crust, 9111 Edgartown–West Tisbury Road, VH



Sadie is the sister, Tabitha realizes. Sadie, not Charlotte. But what is the Upper Crust? She feels like she should know, but she’s drawing a blank. She really only cares about Franklin. She plugs 10 Grovedale Road into her phone. A blue dot appears in Maps, and she climbs into her car.

There is no traffic in the middle of the night, so Tabitha finds herself sitting in front of Franklin’s house ten minutes later. The windows are dark, but Franklin’s truck is in the driveway, and seeing his truck makes Tabitha thrum with nervous energy. He’s here. Isn’t it enough just to know where he is, finally?

No. Tabitha gets out of her car and strides up the walk. She rings the doorbell.

She hears him stirring inside, and her nerves shriek. She wants to run. The door opens.

Franklin sees her. Immediately his mouth is on hers, and he’s pulling her inside, slamming the door shut. He picks her up and carries her over to the moss-green velvet sofa, where he had been sleeping. He lays Tabitha down on the sofa, then tears her ninety-dollar T-shirt in half, cups her breast, and feeds it to himself as though it’s food and he’s starving.



Afterward, Tabitha cries. She bleats and howls—no holding back. Every bad thought, every worry, every jealousy, every insecurity comes pouring out. Franklin wipes her tears away with his hands first, then with the napkins that are next to the uneaten take-out dinner from Sharky’s on the coffee table.

“Why?” she says. “Did my sister call you and tell you to stop? Did Harper call?”

“No,” he says. “The problem is my sister. Sadie.”



Franklin’s sister, Sadie, is the wife of Dr. Reed Zimmer. Franklin’s sister, Sadie, is the woman who slapped Tabitha and threw champagne in her face. These are the extenuating circumstances.

Franklin sits on the edge of the sofa, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t work for you anymore,” he says. “And I can’t see you.”

“What?” Tabitha says.

“She’s my sister,” Franklin says. “And Harper is your sister. Your twin sister.”

“Exactly,” Tabitha says. “Harper is my sister. She’s not me. We aren’t the same, Franklin. You know this. I’m not Harper.”

“I do know that,” Franklin says. “And I like Harper, regardless of what she’s done. But my sister is a mess. She can’t handle this development. She… and my parents… my parents…”

“You’re a grown man,” Tabitha says. “Surely you don’t still cater to what your parents think?” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Tabitha pictures Eleanor. Eleanor has ruled Tabitha’s every thought and deed for the past thirty-nine years, short of the last few weeks.

“I’m sorry, Tabitha,” Franklin says. “It’s just bad luck. And I wasn’t honest. I should have explained who I was the night I met you at the Ritz. But back then, I didn’t think it would matter.”

“You thought I was a one-night stand,” Tabitha says. “A throwaway.”

“Isn’t that what you thought?” Franklin says. “Be honest. I barely knew you. It was for fun.”