My mother rests a hand on my arm. “Then I started getting letters that had details about that night. I thought they were from Soren. Soren was your identical twin.”
I’m ill prepared to hear this, but I’ve already been made aware.
Tears leak down my cheeks, and we both lean into each other. We’ve lost a lot over the years, our family broken seemingly from its conception. And mine.
We sit with our hands intertwined as she tells me about my twin sister, Soren.
CHAPTER 55
Deborah
Deborah clutches Sibley’s hand in hers. Sibley asks, “Did Edward really commit suicide?”
“They’re going to exhume his body.” Deborah bites her lip. “When he died, I was beside myself. I blamed myself for his death. That I wasn’t strong enough to leave Jonathan. That I even married him in the first place. But I had to stop blaming myself because I would’ve put you in danger and he wouldn’t have wanted that either. Even if Jonathan and I had gotten a divorce, he would’ve used you as a pawn. And when he found out the paternity, well, I shudder to think of the outcome.” She hands Sibley a tissue. “Did you know Edward left you his estate, Sibley?”
“I heard something about it. I would’ve rather known him as my father.”
“I didn’t know this, but the reason Edward moved back to town was so he could attend your school events. I’m comforted knowing he had at least some idea who you had become.” Deborah squeezes her hand. “I know he would be even prouder today.”
“And what about the farm?” Sibley sets her coffee mug down on the table. “What did you find out?”
“You were right, honey. There are laws in this state that protect farms that have been in the same family for generations, so that’s being taken into consideration, and additional compensation is part of this.”
“So what’re your next steps?”
“I’m still figuring that out.” Deborah winks. “I’ve got a whole house to move and a daughter that sorely needs”—Deborah doesn’t like the word rehab—“help. Tell you what, honey: I’ll make you a deal.”
Sibley clenches her jaw and waits for her to lay out the terms.
“I want you to focus on recovery.” Deborah hadn’t planned to say this, but it sounds appropriate coming out of her mouth. “I’ll come out to visit and stay with you, as long as it doesn’t impose on you and Holden. That way, I can help around the house and make sure you are taking care of yourself.”
“Promise?” Sibley’s mouth relaxes into a grin. “Because if you like the desert, Holden and I talked about building an addition onto the house or, you know, a mother-in-law suite, they call it, or a casita.”
“I think you both have a lot on your plate right now without worrying about me.” Deborah nudges her. “But I did hear about heritage laws from a sassy attorney, and I’m ready for a change.”
“I’m so glad you’re alive, Mother.” Sibley embraces her tightly.
EPILOGUE
Sibley
Holden receives a call as we’re standing in line, about to board the plane. When he holds his phone out to me, I give him a questioning stare.
“It’s for you.” He shrugs.
“Hello?” I say softly.
“Hi, Sib. It’s Chuck.” I’m surprised to hear from my old PI friend. “I heard you have a decent reason for not being out west. Some kind of family drama out on a farm?”
“That word doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I groan. “I thought running from my problems would keep them at bay; instead, I’ve managed to find myself deep in a whole new pile of shit.”
“Well, let me be the first to welcome you back to the desert,” he drawls. “If you stop hitting retaining walls and fire hydrants.”
“I appreciate the warm welcome,” I giggle. The gate agent comes over the loudspeaker with an announcement, drowning out Chuck’s next words. I hear something that sounds like “preoccupied” and “exploits.”
“Chuck,” I murmur into the phone. “As much as I want to talk, I’d like to be able to do it in person and not miss our flight. It’s time to board.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” He snickers. “Then let me be the first to tell you that Tanner Ellis has resigned from the firm.”
“What!” I jump up in the air, barely hanging on to Holden’s phone. He mouths at me to hurry up and not break his cell.
“Yes. I nailed him for the slick bastard he is.” He chuckles. “The partners weren’t too happy, to put it lightly. Criminal conduct, conflicts of interest, misconduct involving dishonesty, not to mention the numerous other ethical issues he violated. I don’t see how he won’t be disbarred.”
“And Nico’s wife, Christine?” I whisper. “Did you catch her and Tanner hooking up?”
“Yes, and you’ll be happy to know the bar complaint against you is being dismissed, so don’t you worry about it.”
“How did you know about that?”
“I’m offended at your question. You know I keep my ear to the ground. One more thing.” He lowers his voice. “Tanner had pictures of you all over his phone, some racy pics, I might add, and a snapshot of a dating profile for you. You got something to tell me, or should I assume this was all him?”
I tighten my grip on the duffel bag over my shoulder. “I won’t ask how you got his phone and laptop. We used to be friends, and he no doubt had access to my phone and laptop to get those photos.” The exhale I give is loud enough for Holden to peer at me, worry in his blue eyes. “I guess I need to vet my friends more carefully in the future.”
“Well, Adrienne and Leslie both check out. I give them glowing recommendations.”
“Good to know.” I smile into the phone. “And thank you. Seriously. You saved my life. Professionally speaking.”
“And now you’re going to get your ass to rehab, for real this time, so you can save your personal life and marriage. I kind of like that husband of yours.”
“Agreed. And how can you already like Holden more than me?” I grumble sarcastically. “You only met him one time.”
“No. We’ve stayed in touch,” Chuck says. “How do you think I know you’re coming back home?”
“Because you’re a private investigator . . .”
“Good girl.” He chortles. “Safe travels, young lady.”
The final boarding call blares over the speakers, and after I hand the phone back to Holden, he shoves it in his pocket and curls his fingers around mine.
We are the last two on the plane, and as we settle into our seats, we exchange a knowing look that only two people who have weathered a storm—no, a tornado—can share.
Neither of us knows where we’ll go from here, but we’re still in this fight together. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that I’ve still got that scrappy midwestern girl tucked away inside me, and I couldn’t be happier.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2018 Diana May
Marin Montgomery grew up in the Midwest but traded cornfields for the desert, and she now calls Arizona home. Originally slated to go to fashion school on the West Coast, Montgomery has always been passionate about writing short stories and poems. After finishing her MBA, she decided to write her first novel at the encouragement of her childhood best friend. When she’s not thinking up her next psychological twist, she can be found playing a mean game of Scrabble, binge-watching a variety of television shows, and hanging with her goldendoodle, Dashiell.
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