The Good Twin(14)

“How did she choose me?”

“You were the first,” Lauren said. “Your sister was born two minutes later.”

Two minutes. That was the difference between a childhood spent in poverty or one lavished with wealth.





CHAPTER 10

Ben could barely contain his excitement after he’d hung up the phone. Mallory had discovered last night that her mother had given birth to identical twin girls and turned one over for adoption. He’d wait, of course, until the DNA results confirmed what he now knew was a certainty. His wife, Charlotte Gordon, had an identical twin sister no one else knew about. He’d put Mallory off contacting Charly right away, saying she was too absorbed with her father’s health right now. That was true, actually. The old man was going to croak—within the next few months, if his doctor was to be believed. Ben wished he could tap into some sympathy for the guy, but the truth was, he hated the man.

He turned back to his computer but had difficulty concentrating. Rick hadn’t been in the office since his diagnosis, and that was good. When he was around, it felt claustrophobic, as though Rick’s presence down the hall somehow crowded Ben’s own space. He’d taken off early last night to spend the evening with Lisa and hadn’t had to worry that his father-in-law would report it to Charly. That felt good, also. Charly had rearranged the gallery hours, closing early on Tuesdays now. Her assistant had agreed to cover for her on the Thursday and Friday late nights so Charly could spend each evening with her father.

When Mallory Holcolm had left his townhouse last week, the seed of a plan had begun to germinate. Over the past few days, he’d thought about almost nothing else. He was convinced it could work, but first, he’d have to persuade Mallory. That wouldn’t be easy, he realized. Without knowing very much about her, he suspected she’d be shocked by his proposal. Still, he could tell she was impressed by their home, by the money it represented. She’d grown up poor; that much he knew. That was the card he needed to play with her. That, and how her twin sister had been raised to become a cruel and unlikable person. An unworthy person. Yes, his plan could work. It had to work.

Ben looked once more at his computer screen. The numbers all seemed jumbled together. He rubbed the back of his neck, then stood up. I need some java to clear my head. He left his airless interior office, and as he walked to the coffee room, he passed Rick’s large, windowed corner office. He smiled to himself. If things went as planned, by next year that office would be his.





CHAPTER 11

I’d been in a daze ever since I’d learned I had a sister. Over the years, I’d read accounts of identical twins who shared such a strong bond that when one got hurt, the other felt it. Or twins who’d been separated at birth and always felt something was missing. None of that was true for me. I’d never had any inkling that there was someone in the world I’d shared a womb with, someone whose DNA matched mine.

Every few days, I checked in with Ben. “Do you think I can meet Charly now?” was always my opening question. Each time he’d answer, “Not yet.” This morning was the third time I’d called.

“Don’t you think she’d want to know she has a sister?” I asked, hoping he’d pick up on the frustration in my voice.

“Look, you don’t know Charly at all.”

“Of course I don’t. That’s the whole point of wanting to meet her.”

“She goes straight from the gallery to her father’s apartment each evening. Doesn’t get home until close to eleven.”

“What about at the gallery? I could stop in there?”

Ben laughed loudly. “Oh, that would be a treat. I’d pay to see that.”

“Why?”

“She’s generally tense all the time now, with her father dying. But ratchet that up ten times when she’s at work. Then her true colors come out. Unless she’s with a client.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, you’re going to discover this on your own, when you finally get to meet her. She’s not a very nice person.”

I was stunned. This was her husband, talking about his wife. They couldn’t have been married very long—certainly less than seven years. Shouldn’t they still be in the honeymoon phase? All goo-goo eyes and lovey-dovey with each other? Granted, I didn’t have much experience with married couples, having been raised by a single mother and without close friends whose parents I could observe. But certainly love had to last longer than seven years. Or had I been reading too many romance novels?

“We’re identical twins. Shouldn’t we be alike?”

“Maybe if you were raised together. But Charly was brought up as a princess whose every wish was granted. She means the world to her father. He always doted on her, but especially so after her mother died.”

“Her mother’s dead?”

“Yeah. When Charly was nine, her mother was hit by a drunk driver. Died instantly.”

“How awful.”

“Don’t pity her too much. She’s used to getting everything she wants, when she wants it, and has no patience for anything—or anyone—who doesn’t provide that. Her assistant at the gallery is terrified of her. She probably won’t last. None of them do. In the three years she’s had the gallery, she’s gone through four assistants.”