The Right Twin

Aaron filled him in on Shelby’s concerns and her reasoning behind them. He could almost hear Andrew shaking his head before he finished. “Don’t let her drag you into one of her convoluted plots, Aaron. There are things here you need to do—like find a new job. Dad’s already got some prospects lined up for you.”

Aaron wondered if maybe he’d be more successful in any future career efforts if he lined up his own prospects. “I’ll call Dad later,” he said, somewhat curtly. “In the meantime, how about you run a name for me?”

“The hinky guy?”

“Yeah. No harm in checking him out, is there?”

“Give me his name,” Andrew said in resignation.

“Terrence Landon. And I’ve got a license plate. There’s a black SUV parked in front of his cabin.”

A heavy sigh sounded in his ear after he’d rattled off the numbers. “I’ll see what I can find. For Shelby,” Andrew added.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Hell, she and the family will probably rename the resort in your honor.”

“Very funny. Um—have you met all the family yet?”

“Not all. A few. Had to convince the ones I’ve met that I’m not really you in disguise.”

“Have you met Hannah?”

Hannah. Running through a quick mental rundown of Shelby’s chatter about her family, Aaron remembered that Hannah was Shelby’s cousin, Maggie’s sister. “No. Shelby said Hannah is out of the state for a couple of weeks, visiting her mother’s relatives. A vacation from the vacation spot, I guess.”

“I see.” Andrew didn’t sound amused. “I’ll check this name and get back to you. You call Dad and explain why you’ve decided now is a good time to take off on a fishing trip.”

“And maybe you should consider seeing someone about having that stick up your backside removed,” Aaron snapped back. “Seems like it’s been getting more firmly lodged lately.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket before his brother could reply to the rather juvenile taunt. His temper sizzled. Andrew had a lot of nerve acting like Mr. Responsibility these days. Despite his rather recently adopted sanctimonious tone, Andrew had caused more than a few parental headaches of his own, despite excelling from a young age at D’Alessandro-Walker. Most likely because he’d known from the time he was a kid that he wanted to be an investigator.

Aaron didn’t know for certain what he wanted to do next, but he was sure of one thing—it wouldn’t be in the family business where so many people felt they had the right to tell him what to do.

Glancing at the bags still sitting on the floor, he stepped around them. He would unpack later. Maybe. He was beginning to wonder if he should just move on to someplace where he wouldn’t be walking in Andrew’s footsteps.

“He really looks that much like Andrew?”

Both Shelby and her grandmother nodded in response to the question from Shelby’s mother. Leaning her elbows on the polished counter of the Chimes Grill, Shelby said, “It will blow your mind.”

The Chimes Grill was located in one end of the big two-story main building. Decorated in a retro, red-and-chrome ‘50s theme, it held eight red-laminate-topped chrome tables with red vinyl seating and framed ‘50s movie posters on the crisp white walls. A little clichéd, maybe, but they liked it, and so did their guests. The long bar where Shelby sat was also red-topped, with six swivel stools. Her mother bustled around the open cooking area that filled the little diner with tempting aromas, skillfully flipping cooked patties onto waiting buns, which she would top with onion, lettuce and tomato. Pickle spears and chips were served on the side. A warming pot held the soup du jour, vegetable beef today. Homemade pies and soft-freeze ice cream were popular desserts.

The menu was simple and limited, but they didn’t lack for customers from among the campers, guests and day-use visitors. Two couples and one family of four were enjoying early dinners, and two fishermen swapped ones-that-got-away lies over coffee at the other end of the bar.

“I knew almost immediately he wasn’t Andrew,” Mimi said, absently polishing her sparkly glasses on her red-and-purple-flowered blouse. “I mean, at first glance there are similarities, but once I got a good look at him, I knew.”

Shelby rolled her eyes while her mom and her aunt Linda shared knowing smiles they had the sense to hide from their mother-in-law. “Mimi, you demanded that he give you a hug.”

“That was before I saw him full-on,” her grandmother answered serenely.

“You asked him if he was sure he wasn’t Andrew.”

Shelby’s mother chuckled, though she swallowed the laugh almost immediately when Mimi gave her a stern look.

“He does look very much like Andrew, but there are quite a few differences.” Mimi slipped her glasses onto her nose and nodded firmly at her daughters-in-law. “You’ll see.”

There were differences, Shelby thought. The longer hair, the more casual clothing—but she sensed that the real dissimilarity between Aaron and Andrew went deeper than physical. She was eager to study those differences more closely. Just for curiosity, of course.

Leaving Shelby sitting at the end of the counter, her mom moved away to take an order from a sunburned couple who’d spent the day on the water and were now hungry for burgers. Seeing some customers entering, Linda headed back into the store, and Mimi went to the office to check on Lori, who was answering phones today. Home for the summer before her junior year of college, Lori was filling in for Hannah. Having grown up working around the resort, Lori didn’t really need supervision in the office, but their grandmother watched over every aspect of the business as if she was the only one who could truly be in charge. “Pop,” as her husband, the patriarch, was known, tended to bark orders and strut around the grounds, but everyone knew Mimi was the one with the real power in the family.

Though it was already after five, Shelby had just a few things to do yet, but she wasn’t quite ready to settle in front of the computer. She wasn’t a rigid eight-to-five type, working whatever hours she needed to put in to get her job done efficiently, and the family didn’t have a problem with her unconventional schedule. They knew she would put in as much time as needed. Like everyone else in the family, she tended to work a good ten or fifteen hours a week over the standard forty. And she loved it.

Twisting on the red-vinyl-topped bar stool, she cast a proprietary gaze around her. Through the open doors of the grill, she could see the entry foyer into the main building. The foyer was decorated with mounted fish, antique lures displayed on wooden plaques and lush, live greenery. At the back of the foyer, facing the main doors, was the reception office where Lori was working. The other offices, including Shelby’s, were upstairs, accessible to family only. Opposite the grill, the convenience store was lined with shelves of groceries, souvenirs, camping and fishing supplies. The store opened at the back into the marina, where Shelby’s dad, with rotating help from his brother and son, sold bait, fuel, motor oil and other marine supplies; rented out fishing boats, ski boats, pontoon boats and personal watercraft; and kept an eye on the boat slips and fishing pier.

The resort had been Shelby’s playground as a child—the campgrounds and pier, the pool and tennis courts, even the store and the grill. She’d scooped minnows for customers by the time she was eight, served ice cream when she was ten, cleaned motel rooms when she hit her teens. Her siblings and cousins could make the same claims, and Steven could have added that he had twice saved children from drowning in the lake.

She remembered Aaron asking if she’d ever thought of leaving the business. She’d been completely honest when she’d told him that she had not. Unlike her brother and sister, she thought with a faint sigh. The whole family had begun to sense Steven’s restlessness, and Lori refused to commit her future to the resort until she’d explored a few other options.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” her mother asked, wandering back to where Shelby sat. “You’re not still fretting about the man in Cabin Seven, are you?” she added in a whisper, glancing around to make sure none of her customers overheard the question.

“Not at the moment.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Dark blond hair pulled back into a casual twist, blue-eyed, fresh-faced, fifty-two-year-old Sarah Clements Bell had been mistaken more than once for an older sibling to her three grown offspring. She dressed neatly but casually in resort-logo polo shirts and khakis, wore a minimum of makeup, eschewed jewelry except for her watch, wedding rings and simple stud earrings, and refused to fret about maintaining the perfect figure, though she was probably less than twenty pounds over the ideal weight for her average height. Her husband thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and her children adored her, but none of them made the mistake of underestimating her.

“Shelby, what have you done?” she asked in a low, firm voice. “You haven’t hired an investigator to check out your suspicions, have you? Is that why Aaron Walker came here?”

“No, Mom, that’s not why he came,” Shelby replied, able to look her mother straight in the eyes because that was, of course, the truth. She saw no need to mention the invitation she’d mailed to Andrew recently. How could she have known his brother would show up instead?

She should have realized she wouldn’t get away with the prevarication. “Did you tell him your theories when you took him down to his cabin?” her mom persisted. “Please tell me you didn’t ask him to spy on the neighboring cabin.”

Shelby cleared her throat.

“Shelby!” her mother hissed in exasperation, darting another quick look around. “We can’t talk about this now, but you can bet we will be discussing it as soon as we’re in private.”

“All I did was ask him to keep an eye out while he’s here,” Shelby muttered, feeling entirely too much like a kid in trouble. “It’s not like I officially hired him or anything. He said he didn’t mind.”

“You imposed on his vacation by—oh, my goodness.”

Her mother was looking beyond her, toward the doorway, and Shelby had a sudden inkling of what had caused the startled expression. She swiveled on her seat, then nodded at Aaron as he slid onto the stool next to her. “Didn’t take you long to unpack.”

“That’s because I haven’t yet,” he replied with a shrug. “I was talking to my brother.”

And it hadn’t been a warm and fuzzy call, Shelby mused, studying Aaron’s expression. Something was definitely going on between the brothers, and she didn’t think it took a P.I. to figure that out.

“Mom, this is Aaron Walker. Aaron, my mother, Sarah Bell.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” her mother said, shaking his hand. “Welcome to the resort.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bell.”

“Please, call me Sarah. Can I get you anything?”