The Good Twin(31)

CHAPTER 22

I’d settled in to a weekly routine. Each morning I’d have two hard-boiled eggs and coffee for breakfast and then start some form of exercise. Twice a week, I trained with Jackie, followed by a half-hour jog on the treadmill; two other days, I ran for an hour on the treadmill; and twice a week, I hiked in Mohonk Preserve. That didn’t change when we began getting snow every few days—usually a dusting but sometimes six to eight inches. I’d put on my hiking boots, long waterproof pants, and enough layers on top to keep me warm in the coldest weather. Sometimes I’d go back to Duck Pond; other times I’d do the walk around the circle known as Undercliff/Overcliff and watch the rock climbers as they did their ascent. Once or twice, I parked my car at Spring Farm and hiked up to Mohonk Mountain House, a stately hotel that brought to mind what the grand mansions in olden Europe must have looked like. I gave myself one day to just laze around. Every afternoon, I’d have a light lunch, then I’d rewatch the tapes of Charly, study the notes Ben gave me, and follow her Facebook page. And, of course, I still had lunch with Jake once a week.

Today would be different. Ben had texted me a picture he’d taken of Charly just the other day and instructed me that it was time to get my hair cut and colored to match hers. Tomorrow, he’d drive up and check me out for the first time since he’d dropped me off at this house. I’d made an appointment with a hair salon in New Paltz and arrived there promptly at 10:00 a.m. Once I checked in, I was led to Donna’s chair.

“Cut and color today?” Donna asked after I sat down.

“That’s right.”

She ran her fingers through my hair. “So, what are you looking for, just a little lightening?”

I took out my cell phone and showed her the picture of Charly. “This is the color I used to have. And the hairstyle. I’ve let my hair go, and I want to get back to this. Exactly this.”

She studied the picture. “Sure. No problem.”

I’d passed my first test. Donna had given no hint that the woman she saw in the picture wasn’t me.

“I’ll be right back, hon. I’m just going to mix up the chemicals,” she said, before leaving me to stare at the mirror in front of me. I’d never been to a hair salon before. My mother used to cut my hair. Now, I cut it myself. It was why I wore it long—just a straight cut across the bottom every few months, and I was done. It had never been styled, as Charly’s hair clearly was, and certainly never colored.

I looked around the salon. There were eight chairs behind the receptionist’s desk, four on each side of the room. Farther back were three chairs in front of sinks on one side, and on the other, two chairs for pedicures and two for manicures. Every chair but one was filled, with women ranging from late teens to one silver-haired senior citizen. Only one man occupied a chair.

“I’m back,” Donna said in a cheery voice.

“You’re busy here,” I noted.

“You should see us on Saturdays. Then, you have to book a month in advance.”

I knew this would set me back a couple of hundred dollars. After the cut and color, I was scheduled for a pedicure and manicure. It might not be an exact match to Charly’s, but it would be easy enough to say I’d decided to change the color.

Donna chatted nonstop as she meticulously applied the dye to my hair. When she’d finished and left me alone for it to process, I took out my iPad and did what I always did when I needed a break from exercise or studying—I looked at travel websites, at locations throughout the world. I thought I’d like to go on an African safari and visit the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Now that I’d gotten fitter, I wanted to hike in the Swiss Alps, then relax in a luxury hut in Bora Bora. I wanted to visit every museum in Paris and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. I wanted to go on an Alaskan cruise, learn the tango in Buenos Aires, and eat tapas in Barcelona. I wanted to walk on the Great Wall of China and ride an elephant in Laos.

Before I knew it, Donna was back. She brought me over to one of the sinks to wash out the dye, then back to the chair at her station. I looked in the mirror and smiled. The color was perfect. She cut my hair and then began to blow it dry. I averted my eyes from the mirror. I didn’t want to look until it was finished.

“So, what do you think?” Donna said when she turned off the hair dryer.

I looked up and saw Charly in the mirror. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”



The next morning, Ben drove up in his Lexus 450 SUV. A much more practical car, I thought, than the Porsche Carrera he’d driven me up in almost three months ago. I waited by the door as he bounded up the steps, then opened it just before his knock. I laughed when I saw the look of shock on his face.

“You like?” I asked.

“It’s . . . It’s . . . I can’t believe it. I can’t tell you apart. How much weight did you lose?”

“Sixteen pounds,” I said proudly.

He stepped inside, and we went into the kitchen. I had prepared lunch—a salad with just red wine vinegar and no oil for me—and an assortment of cold cuts with rolls for Ben. “What do you want to drink with lunch?” I asked him. “Soda, coffee, water?”

“Do you have Coke?”

“Just diet Coke.”

“I’ll have water, then.”

I set everything down on the table, then sat. As we ate, he peppered me with questions.