Page 36 of Mirror Image

“And . . . if I say no?” I ventured, curious to see what the answer would be.

Her expression hadn’t moved a millimeter. If anything, the chilly smile broadened, as if she were delighted to hear the question. “Oh, Sam,” she said in a lowered, markedly darker voice, “you do not want to test me. This family has limitless resources, and I promise you I will use every single one of them to make your life more difficult than you ever imagined possible.”

“Yeah, that’d be some trick. I’d like to see you try.”

My mother and I both turned at the sound of my sister’s voice behind us. Neither of us had noticed her leaning there against one of the gazebo poles.

“Love the haircut, Mary,” she said, with an approving smile. Then she looked to my mom, whose mouth hung open, her eyes huge as they moved from her to me and back again. And again. And again. “What do you think, Terry? Damn near impossible to tell us apart now, right?”

“M-Mary?” Mom whispered at me.

I stood up and walked over to Sam. “My parents want to give you a couple hundred thousand dollars to go away. You interested?” I asked her loud enough for my mother to hear.

Sam threw her head back and laughed. “Seriously? That’s what she was telling you?”

I pulled the folded check from my pocket and held it up for her to look at.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my name attached to a number with so many zeroes behind it!” she marveled, amused. She looked around me to my mom. “Tempting, Terry, but I don’t need your bribe. I’d rather have my sister. Come on,” she said to me. “Let’s get packing. I think maybe we should leave sooner rather than later.”

I sighed sadly, shaking my head as my mother looked on, incredulous and struck silent.

“You know what, Mom, I never would have believed it if I hadn’t heard it myself. If I hadn’t seen your expression with my own two eyes. My God, but you’re a convincing liar! Makes me wonder what else you’ve said over the years that was total and complete bullshit.” I savored the curse as I said it, another layer of insult to hurl out in the wake of the pain I was feeling.

“Mary—” she tried, but I cut her off abruptly.

“No. I’m done,” I spat at her with more venom than I’d known I had in me. “You don’t get a say in my life. Not ever again.”

“You don’t mean that—”

“I do!” I assured her loudly.

“Mary, baby, please don’t go. Not like this . . .”

My mouth twisted into the same smile she’d given me not five minutes earlier. And when I spoke, it was a perfect imitation of her voice, her tone.

“Trust me, Mom, you’ll get over it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jenn

Friday morning

When I arrive at the hospital coffee shop, Doug and Terry Langston are already waiting at a corner table by the window, set apart from the buzz of the breakfast crowd. Their pallor, the tremor in their hands as they stir untouched lattes—these are the faces of people who haven’t slept in days.

There’s a third cup on the table.

Before I can process that, a familiar baritone sounds behind me.

“Jennifer.”

Every nerve in my body braces. I turn to find Julian—whose office I left not an hour ago—standing there, a plate of pastries in hand.

“I thought I’d join long enough to make introductions,” he says smoothly, reiterating his offer from our earlier conversation.

The one I declined.

“I see.”