The Good Twin(72)

“She looks just like us, don’t you think?” Charly said.

“Actually, I think she looks more like our mother’s baby pictures. Which is good. Two of us is enough.”

Charly laughed and bounced Susan up and down, drawing giggles from her. I introduced her to Jake—it was the first time they’d met. “Man, I know you told me you were identical, but it’s so crazy looking at you two next to each other,” he said.

We walked together into the living room. Herman Jensen was settled comfortably on the couch, but he stood up to kiss me. “Thank you,” he whispered in my ear. I quickly introduced Jake to him as well. Charly and I had talked about how we wanted to celebrate our birthdays, and we’d agreed. We wanted to eat lunch at the Modern, the French/New American restaurant in the Museum of Modern Art, followed by a tour of the museum. I could have left Susan at the apartment with Tatiana, who’d returned to work for Charly. But she was likely to sleep through much of the afternoon and was usually cheerful when she was awake, so we took her with us.

The sun was shining, and an autumn crispness had finally overtaken the summer mugginess, so we walked. Jake pushed Susan’s stroller while Charly and I strolled arm in arm. We reached the restaurant and were seated by a window overlooking the museum’s garden. Once again, Charly and I ordered the same dish. Jake peppered Charly with questions, looking for the similarities between us and cheering when he found differences. When we finished, we sauntered through the museum, taking our time with each painting, discussing what we saw, what we admired, what we didn’t. Susan slept through the two hours we spent there.

As we walked through the museum, Charly asked, “When can we meet the Harrises?”

I’d spoken to my father’s parents many times but had put off meeting them. I wanted to wait for Charly and me to do so together. “They’re just waiting for my call. They’re ready to hop on a plane right away. Especially since Susan was born.”

Before we returned to Ulster County, Tatiana had insisted we come back to the apartment, where she had a cake that she’d baked for our birthday. As soon as we arrived, Charly’s grandfather pulled me off to the side, then withdrew an envelope from his jacket. “This is for you,” he said.

I assumed it was a birthday present and opened it. Inside was a check for $10 million. My eyes widened, and I looked up at him. “I can’t take this,” I said, as I put the check back in the envelope and held it out to him.

He pushed my hand back. “I’ve thought a lot about this, Mallory. If Charly were born first, you would have been my granddaughter. It doesn’t seem fair to me that she has so much, and you so little. I’m an old man with a lot of money. I’d like to do this for you.” He reached out and clasped my hand. “And I wanted to show how grateful I am for what you did for Charly.” He paused for a moment. “Even if it took you a while to get there.”

I touched my hand to my heart. “Herman, I meant it when I said I didn’t want money. All I’ve ever wanted is a family.”

“You have your family now. You have Charly and Jake and Susan. I just want you all to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable. More than comfortable. I’ve never been so happy in my life. This amount of money will just complicate that.” I slipped the envelope back into his jacket pocket.

He grumbled some words I didn’t hear, then smiled. “I’m going to put it in a trust for Susan. That’s what I’ll do. And if you have more children, I’ll do the same for each one.”

I was okay with Susan having that money, but I wouldn’t take it for myself. I had conspired with a virtual stranger to kill my sister, and taking her grandfather’s money would feel like I was benefiting from that one despicable act in my life. Every dollar I spent would remind me of that time.

Just then, Tatiana entered the room, carrying an elaborately decorated cake, topped with whipped cream and two candles, and inscribed, Birthday #1 for Charly and Mallory together.

I had started a new life with Jake—a life filled with love and art and nature. And, most of all, it was filled with family. I had all the riches I needed.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Although writing is a solitary endeavor, the final product is enriched by the help of others. My thanks to Elaine Haber, an estate-planning and elder-law attorney, who helped me make sense of what happens to one’s money when a billionaire dies; to Sarah Underhill, a hospice nurse, who explained hospice care during the last stages of a person’s life; to Dr. Mark Kessler, who helped me figure out how Mallory should be injured, but not killed, by a bullet wound to her chest; and to Susan Posen, for educating me on the art world in Manhattan. Any mistakes in those areas are purely my own.

I am also deeply grateful to my agent, Adam Chromy, who’s always the first to read the full manuscript and help steer me in the right direction; my developmental editor, Kevin Smith, whose suggestions made for what I hope is a more exciting book; and to my editor at Thomas & Mercer, Liz Pearsons, whose insights brought the story into sharper focus. Also at Thomas & Mercer, many thanks to my copy editor, Valerie Kalfrin, and proofreader, Jill Kramer. Thanks also to the marketing staff at Thomas & Mercer for bringing my book to the attention of readers. It is to the readers of my books that I am especially grateful—your critiques make me a better writer, and your praise fuels my desire to keep writing.