Chapter 2 - The Woman In The SUV Had My Face
I ran outside.
The suited man followed.
“Claire.”
“Open the car.”
“She’s fine.”
“Open it.”
One of the security men reached the SUV before I did.
The rear door opened.
Lily was inside.
My Lily.
Red wallet gone, lower lip trembling, one hand wrapped around a bottle of water.
And beside her sat a woman who had my face.
Not similar.
Mine.
Older by the same nine years I had aged.
Hair cut at the jaw instead of below the shoulders.
No wedding ring.
A faint line beside her mouth I didn't have.
Julia.
My identical twin sister.
Lily saw me.
“Mom!”
She climbed out before anybody could stop her.
I caught her so hard she complained.
“Ow.”
I loosened my arms immediately.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
“Why were you in this car?”
Lily looked toward Julia.
“I thought she was you.”
That answer silenced me.
Julia stepped out.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Nine years.
No calls.
No birthdays.
No funerals together.
And the first thing she said was:
“She followed me.”
I laughed once.
“You're explaining?”
“She called me Mom from behind.”
“You put her in an SUV.”
“She was crying.”
“Then call me.”
“I didn't have your number.”
“You had nine years.”
Her jaw tightened.
There she was.
Not memory.
Her.
The suited man stepped between us before the parking lane became a family stage.
“Enough.”
I turned on him.
“Name.”
“Graham Shaw.”
“Who are you?”
“Security director for Carter Retail.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
My mother’s company.
My mother’s SUVs.
My mother’s man.
I turned back toward Julia.
“Where’s the other girl?”
Her face changed.
“Ava.”
The name hurt more than it should have.
I had seen one photograph of my niece.
She had been six months old.
Round cheeks.
Pink hat.
Julia had sent it to our mother.
Our mother had forwarded it to me.
I had stared at it for an hour and never replied.
Now Ava was eight.
Old enough to look at me and see her mother.
I rushed back inside.
Ava stood beside Walter.
He had recovered Lily’s wallet.
He was holding it like evidence.
Ava saw Julia and ran.
Julia dropped to one knee.
“Ava.”
She checked her face, arms, shoulders.
Exactly what I had done with Lily.
Ava whispered something.
Julia looked at me.
Then at our daughters.
Both girls were now staring at each other.
Lily stepped closer.
Ava did too.
It was unsettling.
They weren't identical.
Not once you looked.
Ava's eyes were lighter.
Lily's face was rounder.
But Julia and I were identical twins.
Our daughters had inherited enough of the same structure that from thirty feet away, in matching navy cardigans, fear could finish the resemblance.
I looked at Julia.
“Why is she wearing the same thing as Lily?”
Julia frowned.
“What?”
She looked at Ava.
Then at Lily.
Neither girl had dressed for a plan.
Two navy cardigans.
Jeans.
White sneakers.
Children of identical twins shopping in the same season.
Bad luck.
Or something worse.
Julia looked at Walter.
“You told me Claire asked for this.”
I turned.
Walter’s face tightened.
“What?”
Julia looked at me.
“Mom said you wanted ten minutes.”
“I haven't spoken to Mom in fourteen months.”
Julia went still.
“So you didn't agree.”
“No.”
I looked at Graham.
He already knew where this was going.
“Who put us here?”
Graham glanced toward the SUVs.
Then toward Walter.
May you like
Finally:
“Your mother arranged both arrivals.”
