Double Take Page 2

  She had wound up using a smaller but very picturesque estate on the Hudson River instead.

  And now Lana was his wife. And she, Kait, was on the verge of walking into her sister’s life in order to pretend to be Coleman’s wife and Marni’s mother. It was wrong in every possible way, and Kait’s very nature rebelled against what she was about to do, but there was simply no choice.

  Kait dug into the pocket of her pale beige wool trousers, extracting Lana’s letter. She unfolded the crumpled pages and read it again, the words blurring and fading before her eyes.

  Dear Kait,

  I have so many regrets, and the biggest one is my failure to be the sister you have always wanted and deserved. Yes, Kait, I know you as well as you know yourself, and I know you have always wanted my love, and deliberately I have withheld it from you. You see, Kait, I have always been jealous of you, because you were the perfect student and the perfect daughter, because Mom and Dad always loved you the most. But no more. Kait, I swear to you, that when this is over, I am going to make up for every single moment we have lost. When this is over, we are going to finally have the chance to be real sisters and best friends.

  Kait blinked back hot tears, still stunned to learn that Lana—whom she had always admired so, who’d had all the boys, who had always been one of the most popular girls in school—had been jealous of her, and read on.

  I’m in trouble, Kait. Serious, deadly trouble. I borrowed a tremendous amount of money behind my husband’s back in order to stave off his creditors and to prevent foreclosure on Fox Hollow, our country estate. While that was accomplished, it seems that I went to the wrong people and now Paul Corelli has threatened not just my life but that of my daughter’s if I don’t pay him back by the end of this week. There is someone who I haven’t seen in years, someone I was once close to, who I believe will help me out of the dilemma I now face. I only need two days for you to cover for me. It will work because I haven’t told anyone about you. No one knows I have an identical twin, so no one will ever suspect the switch. And when I return, when I pay off Corelli, I will introduce you to my family and we can start over—if you will allow that.

  Kait hung on to the fence, the wrinkled letter in her hand, still trembling. As far as she could see, fading green hills rolled and spilled away, framed by the flaming orange and yellows of the turning oaks and elm trees of fall. In the distance and to her right was a dark blue lake, a bevy of ducks flying above it; several broodmares that were clearly in foal were grazing by the lake. The sky above her was brilliantly blue, making it a picture-perfect day.

  Not only was Lana’s life in danger, but so was Marni’s. Kait was terrified for them both.

  Which meant she was doing as Lana had asked, because there simply was no other choice.

  And did Lana really mean that she regretted their past? Did she really intend to start over with Kait, and forge the friendship they had never had? After all of these years, did she finally realize that she needed and wanted her sister in her life? Kait was filled with hope. But so many years had gone by that there was doubt too. Kait wanted to believe that her sister was sincere. Maybe, having faced threats from this Corelli person, Lana had realized that it was time to finally include her sister in her life. Maybe she finally realized the importance of family.

  But how much money did she owe? And who cared so much for her now that he or she would lend or give it to her? Kait didn’t like the sound of any of that. It was odd.

  Lana had her cell phone. Kait intended to call her the moment she had the chance—which meant that once she was settled in and no one suspected who she really was, once she had a truly private moment, she would call and try to find out more details about the problems Lana faced. Lana hadn’t given her, Kait, a chance to help in any other way other than to cover for her—clearly she didn’t want her husband to know about the trouble she was in—but Kait knew that where there was a will there was a way, and, surely, she could help Lana raise the money to get this Paul Corelli off her back. And then there were the police. Kait couldn’t understand why her sister hadn’t gone to the authorities. That in itself made absolutely no sense.

  Kait pulled a lighter out of her pocket and burned the letter. Then she rearranged her expression, which she knew had to be a worried one, and with a slight smile fixed on her face, she returned to Lana’s small sports car. The flamboyant and expensive Porsche was a convertible, but Kait did not have the top down. She slid into the driver’s low-lying bucket seat and turned the ignition back on, then pulled down the mirror on the sun visor to check her red lipstick. It hadn’t smeared or run. For one moment, Kait stared at her eyes, contoured now with Lana’s almond brown eye shadow. Kait favored nude glosses and mascara but rarely wore any more makeup, not even to work; and out of the office, it was strictly blue jeans and T-shirts. She was far more than chic now, she was incredibly glamorous, and that, coupled with the lie she was about to commit, meant that she felt unbearably uncomfortable—as if she had somehow stepped out of her own skin and into someone else’s—which she had. Lana had always been the fashionable one, the chic one, and Kait looked so much like her sister now that it was surreal.

  A huge ball of fear sickened her stomach now.

  Could she really do this? How could she not do this?

  Kait put the Porsche into gear and slipped back on the road. She also failed to understand why Lana hadn’t shared her burden with her husband. If she were Lana, she would confess everything to her husband, and somehow, with his support, find a way to raise the cash and get out of the mess she was in.

  Kait wished that she’d had a chance to reason with her sister. Even knowing how opinionated and determined Lana could be, if Kait had had her way, she would have talked Lana out of this deception, convincing her to go to the police and her husband.

  The road turned. And suddenly Kait was face-to-face with a pair of brick pillars, each one with a brass plaque. One gave the number of the estate—1296 NORTHWOODS ROAD. The other merely read fox hollow.

  Kait was one second away from whipping the Porsche into a U-turn and fleeing. Instead, the last lines of Lana’s letter resounded in her mind.

  Kait, I am desperate. I would never ask this of you if I weren’t. You’re my sister, my twin, and even after all of these years, I know that bond can’t be severed. I know I can count on you.

  Lana was never desperate. Lana was always cool and calm, always smiling, always filled with confidence. But she was none of those things now. Now, she was scared.

  And from the sound of things, rightly so.

  Kait drove between the two brick pillars.

  Summoning up her courage, absolutely willing her nerves to be steady—and reminding herself that no one could possibly suspect the switch, at least, not yet—Kait drove slowly up a long gravel driveway lined with more sparkling white paddocks and a succession of stately oak trees. Could she deceive everyone? Wouldn’t someone be able to see through her superficial disguise? After all, she and Lana were nothing alike!

  Kait wanted to retch. But she hadn’t been able to eat all day, so she knew it was only her overwrought nerves. She had to be more like her sister now. She had to be charming, extremely confident, naturally sexy.

  But surely Lana’s own child would be able to tell the difference between her aunt and her mother, even if they did look alike. But Lana had felt certain that Marni would not know and she had said so in her letter. She had also written that Coleman had a teenaged daughter from his first marriage, Samantha, and she had left a description of the house, the housekeeper, and the staff. Kait wanted to believe as Lana did that they could pull off this deception; she wanted to turn the car around and drive away. No matter the trouble Lana was in, everything that they were doing was so terribly wrong.

  But Kait couldn’t take a chance on Corelli hurting either her sister or her niece and it was as simple as that.

  Suddenly a band of long, lanky yearlings raced by on her left. Surprised, Kait started, but then she slow
ed, and before she even knew it she was watching the beautiful young Thoroughbreds playing gracefully in the adjacent paddock, distracted. The band of yearlings, all chestnuts and one black, turned and galloped away, tails high, manes flying, and Kait felt herself smile. She simply had to watch them until they disappeared from sight. Lana had to be the luckiest woman in the world, to have a man like Trev Coleman fall in love with her, to have a daughter—a family—and a fairy-tale home like Fox Hollow.

  Kait started the Porsche down the drive again. She had her window wide open, and now she sniffed the crisp, fresh country air with a deep appreciation. And as she drove past an outdoor riding ring and six state-of-the-art whitewashed barns, one of which was probably a huge indoor arena, her heart quickened, this time with anticipation. A part of her could not wait to walk through the front door and get settled in.

  Kait quickly had to remind herself of what she was doing and that this was not her home. But on the other hand, a few days from now, she would be a legitimate family member and undoubtedly from that point on a frequent guest. Then she saw the house.

  It was a brick colonial, built in the late eighteenth century, with a high temple pediment and six huge white columns supporting it. The beautiful residence sat above the rest of the estate on a hill. As she drove up the drive toward it, her anxiety returned. A dusty black Land Rover and a big, brand-new cobalt blue pickup truck sat off to the side of the house, in front of a garage that was so beautifully designed that it looked like a residential wing. The hood of the Land Rover was up. Her heart skipped as she braked and turned off the ignition; a man slammed down the hood and looked at her.

  This was it.

  The point of no return.

  She had parked beneath a huge oak tree, out of the sun; now, she lifted her gaze with real trepidation and met an intense blue stare. Kait relaxed, because for one instant she had feared the worst—that Coleman had changed his plans and was at home. But this was not Trevor Coleman. Trev was darkly blond and tanned, and Kait knew he was in his mid-thirties. This man was in his early forties and he had dark, short hair. He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall and he had the physique of a boxer or a weightlifter; Coleman was tall and his build was average. Besides, this man was wearing a very worn and faded pale blue T-shirt (which revealed bulging biceps and rock-hard abs) and rather stained jeans with a pair of work boots. Kait felt certain Coleman ran his estate in tan breeches and knee-high riding boots. This was not, thank God, Lana’s husband.

  Kait felt certain that this was a recently hired employee, Max Zara, part handyman, part stable boy. Kait realized she was gripping the wheel. She took a deep breath, forced a smile, and grabbed her purse, stepping out of the car. She stumbled in Lana’s high heels and winced.

  She realized that posing as Lana even for two days might have technical problems—like the three- and four-inch heels her sister favored. Hoping Zara had not seen her little faux pas, Kait slung Lana’s Gucci bag over her shoulder and went carefully to the back of the car. She flipped up the Porsche’s tiny trunk lid.

  The back of her neck began to prickle. Kait had the awful feeling of being watched; she stiffened automatically and turned with dread and a lurching sensation in her stomach. Max Zara was staring at her. His regard was so fixed that Kait flinched. Had she just remarked hostility in his eyes?

  Perhaps this wasn’t Zara after all.

  His brilliant blue eyes slipped over her coolly. “Pleasant trip, Mrs. Coleman?” he asked with an accent that had to be Brooklyn or Queens. He was certainly no native Virginian. And he did not smile, not even slightly, and his eyes were ice cold.

  Kait had not mistaken his hostility—he reeked with it. She pulled herself together, bewildered and taken aback. “It was wonderful,” she said as warmly as possible.

  He continued to stare.

  Kait hesitated, as he offered no reply. What was going on? She knew she was missing something—because she saw speculation as well as enmity in his eyes. Why hadn’t Lana mentioned that they were at odds? Were he and her sister at odds? And, if so, why? He was only a hired hand—how much could Lana have to do with him? She forced a smile. Lana had told her husband she was going to New York to do some shopping. “I found a lot of sales,” she said brightly. God, she sounded as panicked as she felt! She had to get a grip.

  He sauntered over, his gaze never wavering, and the closer he came, the more she tensed. “Not a lot of bags for a shopping spree,” he remarked, finally glancing away from her and into the trunk where she had Lana’s single garment bag and one shopping bag from FAO Schwarz.

  His eyes were so pale that they were unnerving—especially when they settled coolly on her again. “I’m having everything sent,” she said, turning. She felt shaken, but she had just been caught in her lie. She reached into the trunk and hefted out the garment bag.

  Instantly, his hand brushed hers, closing on the bag as he took it from her. “Now why would you go taking your own bags from the car?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  Their gazes smacked into one another. Kait could hardly think, much less respond, and then it hit her—she was a wealthy woman, she was waited upon. She had a role to play, and she had better start playing it now.

  Zara’s pale blue gaze pinned her; he did not reach for the shopping bag, and he waited patiently for her answer.

  But what answer could she possibly give? “My feet are killing me and I am desperate to change my shoes,” she said quickly, managing a smile and feeling a flush, but actually, it was the truth.

  He was unmoved. “I’ll bring your bags right up, Mrs. Coleman,” he said, and his eyes slid over her again, this time in a sexually disparaging manner.

  Kait was so stunned by his rudeness that she turned and fled toward the house, tripping again in Lana’s high-heeled boots. She heard the trunk of the Porsche slamming. She wanted to throttle her sister for not warning her that there was some kind of intense conflict going on with one of the estate’s employees. But was it a conflict or something else? That man had undressed her with his eyes, and of that she had no doubt.

  She reminded herself that her sexy sister often provoked such reaction in men. Lana had begun flirting as a child—as a teen, she’d had boys begging for her attentions. She had always been naturally coy; without any effort, she had always attracted men. While Kait recalled all this in a flash, now her own mental excuses for her sister felt feeble.

  Hopefully Lana had not been flirting with Max Zara right beneath her husband’s nose.

  Kait composed herself, finding her balance and looking up. Someone was standing on the porch, framed by the massive columns holding up the temple pediment of the house. As Kait approached, she saw a tall, shapely older woman clad in riding breeches, paddock boots, and a crisp white shirt with a navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. For a woman dressed to be in the stables, she had not a speck of dirt upon her. Very serious, square tortoiseshell glasses framed a square face with high cheekbones and some interesting lines; her graying blond hair was pulled tightly back into a chignon. Kaitlin knew this was the housekeeper, Elizabeth Dorentz. She was smiling politely, impersonally, at her.

  Kait smiled back, her heart racing with fear, and began up the wide, steep stone steps to the porch of the house. “Mrs. Dorentz,” she began. “Am I glad to be... home.” She tripped over the last word.

  Elizabeth nodded. “How was your trip? I have lunch waiting.” Her eyes narrowed and slid over Kaitlin. “You cut your hair.”

  Kait wet her lips, running her hand through the Meg Ryan layers. “I did. At Bergdorf ‘s. It was time for a change.”

  Elizabeth didn’t respond. She turned and walked into the house.

  Kait blinked, once again thoroughly taken aback. Had she just been rebuffed? But what had she done? Lana had said that Elizabeth had been with the family for decades—ever since Trev Coleman was a little boy. Surely she had imagined the other woman’s rudeness. Maybe she was curt and brusque by nature. And then Kait felt eyes on her back, right
in the center of her rigid shoulder blades. She glanced back. Max Zara’s stare was as cool and unflinching as earlier. Kait simply could not bear the tension—she hurried into the house after Elizabeth Dorentz, perspiring.

  And the moment she stepped over the threshold, she entered another world, another time, another place.

  Kait halted, breathing deeply, the scent of pine and lilac strong.

  She stood in a spacious foyer. Smooth oak floors were underfoot, pine beams overhead, and a wide staircase led to the upper floors of the house. Kait was certain that the house had been built in colonial times, which meant that the interior had been completely renovated in the recent past. Directly ahead was a huge living room—clearly several walls had been knocked out to accommodate the designer’s aims. The décor was old-world elegance: antiques vied with tweeds and leather, nineteenth-century paintings hung on the walls in old and faded gilded frames. As Mrs. Dorentz had disappeared, Kait found herself walking into the living room, where a wall of huge windows looked out on the pastures and horses below, with rolling blue hills framing the horizon.

  Her chest was tight. It was so beautiful—the view, this room, the house—and she could imagine being curled up in that huge stuffed tan suede chair at night, the one not far from the massive stone fireplace, her feet on the matching ottoman, the brown-and-green paisley throw on her lap, a book in hand, a glass of wine at her elbow. Because, while this room was clearly for entertaining, it was as clearly designed for family comfort. She smiled when she saw a small horse model peeking out from the sofa’s plush throw pillows. A tiny rider doll was on the horse’s back.

  Marni would be at pre-K now.

  Kait had to close her eyes and pinch herself.

  Lana’s life was like a dream come true.