The Twin Switch

“We thought she was with you,” Sophie said.

“She wasn’t in the room when I woke up.”

The waitress offered me coffee, and I gratefully accepted, finding the cream in a little silver pitcher in the middle of the table.

“Did you check the spa?” Nat asked.

“No. Don’t you think it’s too early?”

“She’s probably working out,” Nat said. “Her wedding dress doesn’t leave any room for error.”

I found myself rethinking my eggs Benedict.

Nat cut into her waffle, releasing a wave of the delicious aroma.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked me.

“Eggs Benedict,” my mouth said before my brain could mount a decent argument against it.

Once made, I was happy with the decision. I could work out at the hotel gym sometime today. It was going to be worth it.

“The woman has willpower,” Sophie said of Brooklyn.

I smiled at that as I sipped my sweetened coffee. It was true.

Thanks to Brooklyn’s insistence, we swam to the far floater and back every time we drank a milkshake at the Lake Washington Beach. I didn’t gain an ounce over summer breaks. To this day, I used swimming to stay in shape.

I should thank her for that.

I’d have plenty of time in the future.

She and James were shopping for houses in Wallingford. The area was close to my apartment in Fremont. After the wedding, we’d be able to see each other even more often than we did now.

While I waited for my breakfast, I shot her a text.

“At least we know she’s not stuck in an elevator this time,” Nat said.

“Are we shopping this morning?” Sophie asked.

“Do you need something?” I glanced at my phone, but there was no symbol to indicate Brooklyn was answering.

“Clothes,” Sophie said. “Maybe some throw pillows or shelves. I could use some shelves for that little corner by the patio door. I bought those two blown-glass sculptures at the pier last month, and I have nowhere to put them.”

“I don’t need anything,” Nat said.

“I respectfully disagree,” Sophie said. “Your studio needs a complete makeover.”

“It’s functional,” Nat said with a sniff.

“It’s criminal,” Sophie said. “All that glorious potential, and you haven’t done a thing with it.”

“I hung some pictures.”

“That I gave you. On hooks that were on the wall from the last tenant. The arrangement doesn’t even make sense.” Sophie turned to me. “We should go on a shopping spree for Nat’s place.”

“We should probably ask Brooklyn,” I said, thinking the weekend was supposed to be all about her. And I’d make it all about her, too, if I could only track her down.

My eggs Benedict arrived, looking outstandingly delicious.

“Brooklyn will go for it. She loves shopping,” Sophie said.

I took a first bite. It was to die for.

I’d be happy to shop or sightsee or hit the pool deck. I’d even go for another massage. I’d always go for another massage.

“In that case, we can shop for Brooklyn,” Nat said. “I don’t want to clutter my place up with knickknacks and dust collectors.”

“Another word for them is art.” Sophie smirked as she went for her phone. “If the bride says we’re redecorating your studio, we’re redecorating your studio.”

“That’s not how it works,” Nat said.

“It’s exactly how it works.” Sophie held her phone to her ear.

“I’m counting on you,” Nat said to me. “Talk some sense into her.”

“I can’t see redecorating your apartment being Brooklyn’s first choice,” I said honestly.

My money was on Fisherman’s Wharf or Golden Gate Park.

“She’s not answering,” Sophie said.

I hoped that meant Brooklyn was in a shower at the gym. She should really get over here and try some of these eggs.

“What the heck?” Sophie said, surprise in her tone.

I looked up.

She put her phone under my nose with a friend-finding app open. I squinted, but it was too close for me to see the little map.

When she spoke again, she sounded completely baffled. “What’s Brooklyn doing back at the airport?”

My first thought was Brooklyn had been kidnapped.

It was the only thing that made sense.

She had no reason to leave the hotel voluntarily. We had spa appointments, and there were Belgian waffles and hot chocolate on the menu. What more could a woman ask for?

I wanted to call the police right away, but Nat convinced me they’d need more evidence before they opened a missing-person case. Brooklyn was an adult, and she hadn’t been gone very long by law-enforcement standards.