The Bad Twin

by Avery Scott

  “I don’t know. I thought you did a pretty good job with the last one. I mean, she got off to a rough start, and that’s putting it nicely, but you have to give a girl like that credit. She kept working until she made things right. She surprised me.”

  “You and me both,” Hudson murmured.

  “There’s no chance you can get her to come back for the closing? The Fougeres want to sign the papers next week. Mr. Fougere asked for her especially.”

  “There’s no chance,” Hudson said. “And I’m still not sure that we’ll meet the deadline.”

  Walker Quinn sighed. “We’re going to have another delay? What’s the problem?”

  “I just think we ought to double-check that the bottling contract is…”

  “Hudson,” Mr. Walker interrupted, “What’s the real problem? Let’s cut to the chase.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it feels like you are looking for ways to sabotage this deal. Every week you come up with a new line of business to investigate or a new batch of paperwork that you want the Fougeres to provide. They’re losing patience and frankly, so am I. It’s almost as if you don’t want this deal to work out.”

  “Of course I want it to work out,” Hudson exclaimed. “It’s just…”

  “It’s just?”

  Hudson sighed, deciding it was time to come clean.

  “Look, obviously this is a very lucrative deal for all the parties involved, even with the extra payouts to the employees that we agreed to. But I met a lot of these people, dad. I got to meet them and talk to them and they all really enjoy what they do and the benefits it has for their local communities. I can’t stop thinking about what will happen to everyone after this deal goes through.”

  “But Hudson, even if we back out, the company isn’t going to be able to sustain itself and will go under. Then no one wins.”

  “I know, but I’ve been pouring over some of the proposals I asked Fougere to send over. I was curious about what his original plans for expansion were. I wanted to see where he went wrong and just how bad it was.”

  “How bad was it?” Mr. Quinn looked honestly curious.

  Hudson finally pulled his feet off his desk and leaned forward across the polished surface. “Here’s the thing. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting. All they needed was another twenty million and it would have worked. At least by my calculations. I don’t think it would take much more than that amount to pull off the same plan now.”

  “Twenty million is a decent piece of change, son.”

  “I know, and the return would take a little longer than our standard investments, maybe quite a bit longer but…” Hudson didn’t finish the thought out loud, but he couldn’t help thinking it would be worth it. Salvaging Marché d’Été was a business deal he could be proud of. That would be enough. There was more to life than money, after all. “It might be nice to build something for a change instead of tearing things down.”

  The two men locked eyes, neither one blinking until the elder Quinn spoke. “Draw up the proposal. Let me see the numbers. The real numbers. I know that the Fougeres are getting weary of last-minute changes, but they might be willing to make time for this one. Mr. Fougere didn’t strike me as the kind of man who was ready to let go.”

  Hudson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way his father was going to lose out on the ability to collect a large amount of capital upfront now as opposed to a long-term payment plan with interest and a small percentage of ownership. Or would he? And if he did, why?

  “Are you serious?”

  “I can tell this is important to you, Hudson. I know I don’t always show it, but all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be successful and confident. That’s why I’ve pushed you so hard. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re interested in the business at all. You always told me that you wanted to be a real estate developer. Isn’t that why you got an engineering degree? You had that crazy idea about building ‘walkable neighborhoods’…”

  “It’s not crazy,” Hudson said automatically and was surprised when his father smiled.

  “No? Well, if anyone can make it work, it’s you, but I thought you let that go? You shifted course and wanted to join Quinn Holdings. You obsessed over your career after we lost Colin and I just wanted you to be the best you could possibly be. And you have been. You’re one of the best businessmen I have ever worked with. I want you to know that.”

  “I know you wish it was Colin instead of me.” Hudson blurted, deflected the compliment. “I’m the one who should have died in the accident.”

  “Is that what you think?” Mr. Quinn asked, his voice a strange mixture of anger and sadness. “That I wish I was working with Colin instead of you? That I would trade your life for his? I know we disagree from time to time, but do you honestly think I’m capable of that? I didn’t handle myself well when Colin died. None of us did. The fact that we still had you…that was the only thing that kept your mother and me sane. When the accident first happened and you weren’t answering your phone…well, we thought the worst. Then, when I heard your voice again and knew that you were safe, it was like a miracle. I would give almost anything to have Colin back, but I have never, ever wished that it was you instead of him.”

  “But it was my fault,” Hudson blurted. Now that he had started talking, everything was coming out at once. “I’m the reason he died.”

  “Hudson…”

  “The reason you couldn’t reach me…I…I was in jail. Colin was coming to bail me out.”

  Hudson paused to watch his father’s reaction as the terrible secret was finally revealed. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see on the old man’s face. Shock? Rage? He wasn’t prepared for the pitying smile or the hand that settled firmly on his shoulder.

  “Of course, you were. Do you think I didn’t know that? Colin told me before he left. I was going to send Imogene to take care of it, but Colin insisted. He told me how upset you were and didn’t want you to be embarrassed. I’m sorry that no one came to get you out that night. Colin didn’t tell anyone which jail he was going to. Like I said, your mother and I were terrified that he had already picked you up and you were in the car with him. By the time we figured it out, you were already on your way back home.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “Why would I? It was over. I could tell you were beating yourself up already. There was no need for me to pile on.”

  Hudson felt a swell of emotion in his chest. His father’s words sounded sincere and the look of horror that flashed across his face when Hudson asked the question made him realize that the only person who blamed Hudson for Colin’s death, was Hudson himself.

  “But if he hadn’t come to pick me up…”

  “I won’t let you do that to yourself. You cannot play the ‘what if’ game. That’s not how life works. We have to accept it for what it was. Colin did come to pick you up. And it happened. A horrible accident. You didn’t decide to get drunk and get behind the wheel of a car. You were at a party where maybe you shouldn’t have been, but that had nothing to do with what happened to your brother. The man who swerved into the wrong lane is the only one to blame. Colin loved you. He would have done anything for you. Even if he knew how it all turned out, he still wouldn’t have abandoned you when you needed him that night.”

  “I just miss him.”

  “I do too, son. I do too. But I can tell you this, Colin would be pretty pissed off if he knew you were beating yourself up over this all these years later. It would break his heart. He would want to know you were happy and living the life you wanted to live. He’d be so proud of his little brother.”

  “I want to quit,” Hudson blurted. He hadn’t planned to say the words, but since they were being honest and putting their cards on the table, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to make his move. “I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not my dream or my passion. I just didn’t want to disappoint you or mom ever again. I wanted you guys to be
proud of me.”

  Mr. Quinn offered another rare smile. “We are proud of you, Hudson. We always have been.” The old man chuckled to himself, his tanned skin crinkling at the edge of his eyes. “So,” he said after a pause, “now that you’re unemployed what do you plan to do with yourself?”

  “Well…you know that crazy walkable neighborhoods idea we were just talking about? I think I still want to try.”

  Walker Quinn rose from his seat and gave his son an approving look. “I think that’s a great idea, son. Just do me one favor?”

  “Sure, dad. What’s that?”

  “Can you finish the Marché d’Été deal before you leave?”

  “Of course. I think I can manage that.”

  Mr. Quinn started to walk out of the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder to make a parting comment. “If you have any trouble, maybe you can get that blonde girl back to help you out. I know you said there’s no chance, but you never know, son. You just never know.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mr. Saint’s daughter-in-law was in awe as soon as she stepped foot inside the Levesque’s front hallway. She couldn’t hide her amazement as her gaze swept from painting to painting. She rambled off textbook facts about the artists behind the works. She had probably learned all those things at an expensive university. Abby didn’t know the official biographies of the artists, but she knew other stories. She knew which ones that Grand-mère had affairs with, which one only painted when he was high and which one grew up selling portraits on the side of the road to help his family buy food. In her mind, the artworks took on the personalities of their creators. They were almost like old friends. It broke her heart to think of parting with any of them, but the numbers that Mr. Saint’s daughter-in-law rattled off as “ballpark estimates” for what they might bring at auction were mind-blowing. Selling just a few of the paintings should fetch enough money not only to save the house but also to make all the repairs that Abby and her sister had been putting off since Grand-mère died. She still couldn’t believe it.

  There were a few paintings that Abby couldn’t imagine selling. She would have to beg Gabrielle to consider it later. The younger twin was still in bed, declining the invitation to witness the appraisal, but Abby knew that her sister would expect a full report about what the paintings were worth. The appraiser was practically salivating over the Jean Mirre but it had always been Abby’s favorite. Grand-mère’s paintings of Paris were also non-negotiable. It was even going to be hard for Abby to get rid of the sketch of screaming faces in the hallway that had frightened her as a child, but she knew that it had to be done. They needed the money. Steeped in sorrow for nearly a month, Abby hadn’t even started looking for a new job, and she hadn’t been able to raise the topic of employment with her sister. They had to eat.

  “Who painted these?”

  Abby was surprised to hear a voice coming from her studio. She rushed into the back of the house, embarrassed by the room’s disarray and the canvases propped up randomly against the baseboards.

  “Oh, nobody. These are nothing.”

  “Nothing? They’re marvelous! I don’t recognize the artist though.”

  “It’s no one you’ve heard of.”

  Instead of stifling the appraiser’s interest, the woman seemed even more fascinated.

  “A new talent? Who is it? I have to know.”

  Abby demurred. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Gabrielle had just walked down the stairs to join them. She tried to signal her sister to remain quiet, but it was no use.

  “They belong to Abby,” Gabrielle offered. “She painted them.”

  The appraiser’s face glowed with excitement. “I didn’t know you were an artist! It makes sense though, surrounded by all this.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the art-covered walls. “They’re marvelous though. Are you represented? Have you exhibited before?”

  Abby unfolded a sheet and began draping them over some of the artworks. “No and no,” she said as she tried to hide her creations from view. “It’s just a…hobby really. I never planned on letting anyone see them. I’ve just been trying to work something out in my personal life.”

  Unbidden, a memory of Hudson flashed into her mind: the scratch of his stubble against her cheek, the faded spice of his cologne, the solid warmth of his arm around her waist. The image was so vivid and so complete that it almost knocked her breathless.

  “You haven’t exhibited?” Ms. Saint ignored Abby’s attempts to cover the paintings. She tugged the sheet away and started taking snapshots with her phone. “That’s a scandal! Would you consider letting me do a show?”

  Abby’s heartbeat quickened. She had always dreamed of exhibiting her work in one of the galleries that peppered Manhattan, but now she was uncertain. Her new pieces were personal and raw. She wasn’t sure she could put her emotions out on display. Each frame captured a moment of her journey with Hudson. There was one that was mostly muddled gray painting depicting the night that Mr. Quinn appeared on her doorstep, another filled with the pinks and greens of Paris, several depicting a slowly growing glow as she and Hudson grew closer and, finally, a canvas depicting a bleak circular void that she had titled simply, “After.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Abby said in a shaky whisper.

  “What? Why?” Gabrielle seemed almost indignant. “You heard what she said. They’re really good. Besides, they’re just crowding up the place as it is.” She ignored her sister’s protests and turned toward the appraiser. “Why don’t you tell us what you have in mind?”

  Ms. Saint, happy to have a more receptive audience, eagerly engaged in a description of her gallery and the successful launches they had held in the past.

  Abby seized the opportunity to slip away. Maybe her sister was right. Hudson was gone forever. Did she really want to look at these paintings every day? Her only other option was to store them in the attic. Maybe it was time to start letting go.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You’re sure that I can’t convince you to stay?” Abby stood on the front porch of the house, watching for a black Chevrolet that was supposed to take her sister to the airport.

  Clad in a conservative blouse and plain black skirt, Gabrielle could have been Abby’s reflection. It was rare for the younger twin to dress so conservatively. It was rarer still for her to be awake before six AM.

  “I’m sure,” Gabrielle said. “This is a really good job prospect. I’ve always been interested in public relations and it’s a hard job to get without a degree. I think I’m actually going to be pretty good at it too.”

  “Well, luckily you had a ‘connection’.” Abby flashed a smile to make sure her sister realized that she was teasing. It was true that Gabrielle only learned that Merida Technology was looking for a PR girl after an evening of debauchery with the owner’s son, but it was equally true that the younger twin was going to be brilliant in the position. As a public relations specialist for the firm, her main job would be to throw parties and sign up sponsors for the company’s community broadband efforts. No one knew how to party like Gabrielle Levesque.

  Gabrielle took the remark in the spirit it was intended, flashing a brilliantly white smile and responding with her typical cheek, “I always get lucky.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Abby’s lips curled up into a smile that she didn’t feel. She was happy that her sister had landed a job that she seemed genuinely excited about, especially since it was uniquely suited to her talents, but the thought of impending loneliness was almost too much to bear. It had been hard enough going through the motions of getting dressed and facing the world every day with her zany twin constantly trying to raise her spirits. Abby couldn’t fathom how she was going to make it on her own.

  At least she didn’t have to worry about losing the house anymore.

  In the end, the Levesque sisters only sent the Auerbach to auction. Abby didn’t know if it was the painting itself, the story of the artist’s relations
hip to Grand-mère (which the auction house had shamelessly played up in the catalog) or merely Fate deciding to give the family a break, but the canvas sold for double the expected price. The satisfaction of handing Mr. Saint his final payment for the house was Abby’s one bright spot in an otherwise bleak series of weeks.

  A dark SUV rolled up to the curb and Gabrielle reached for her suitcases. They were the blue Globe-Trotters that Hudson bought in Paris. Abby was sad to let them go, but she was certain that her sister would get more use out of the luggage than she ever would. They were meant for her anyway.

  “That’s my ride,” Gabrielle said in the harried tone of a woman with a plane to catch. She gave her sister a kiss on both cheeks. “I’ll text you when I land. Send me an invitation to your gallery opening. I’m sorry that I can’t make it, but I at least want to be able to tell all my new friends that I’m related to a famous artist.”

  “I’m not famous.”

  “Not yet,” Gabrielle said with her typical confidence, “but it’s only a matter of time. Don’t let them cheap out on the wine! Remind Ms. Saint of what my friend said about how buyers decide if an opening is worth their time.”

  “I will. I wish you could stay here and help me though.”

  The SUV honked its horn and Gabrielle gestured for the driver to wait.

  She started to head down the sidewalk but stopped halfway, running back to give Abby a tight hug.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she said in an atypically maternal tone. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are going to be happy again. There’s going to be other guys.”

  Abby bobbed her head, “I know,” she lied.

  Gabrielle smiled again. “That’s my girl.” She straightened up and turned back toward the car. “You know what to do if you miss me too much.”

  “Put on a mini skirt and smoke weed in front of a mirror?”

  “Ha, ha,” Gabrielle said. She rolled her eyes and gave her twin a playful slap on the shoulder before climbing into her ride. “Call me if you need me. I’m here for you, sis.”