Double Jeopardy (12 page)

“I really like this city. I wouldn’t mind living here,” she said as they made their way back to the studio. “In fact, I talked to a real estate agent the other day about buying an apartment. Real estate is high, but I figure it’s an investment.”

“You’re really thinking of settling here in Vancouver?” Sera was astonished. Maisie had always said she was a free spirit; she didn’t want to be tied down; as a set designer she needed to be able to relocate at a moment’s notice. “What’s made you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“Turning forty-eight, honey.” There was an unaccustomed note of weariness in Maisie’s raspy voice. “I’m getting tired of living like a vagabond. It’s time I put down roots somewhere, and this town appeals to me. The natives are friendly, the energy’s good, there’s lots happening in theater and film, plenty of flights every day if I need to get to L.A. or other points south.”

They edged past a group of tourists having a loud argument in German.

“Now, if I could just find an interesting, mature, sexually potent guy who liked fat women, I’d be set,” Maisie added. She sounded as if she were only half joking.

“Do you think you’d ever get married again?”

“Marry again?” Maisie shook her head. “I don’t think so. Three strikes are enough for me. I’m not good at marriage. I figure there’s some secret to it that I never learned. Some couples manage to stay together for their entire lives. Look at your mom and dad, for instance. From what you say they still care for each other, and they’ve been married forever.”

“They’re old-fashioned Italian,” Sera said, as if that explained everything. “Family’s everything to them. I suppose my mother must have had times when she considered leaving, my father’s not the easiest man to live with.” Sera shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Even I’ve had times when I wanted to murder him. He’s overprotective, the typical Italian papa. He’s got a terrible temper and he’s so stubborn it makes you want to scream. He’s pretty controlling. But he adores Mama, and I’m pretty sure it’s mutual. We still catch them making out in the kitchen sometimes.”

“That’s so sweet.”

Sera knew what was coming next, and she wished Maisie wouldn’t ask.

“How about you, Sera? Think you’ll ever get married?”

“I don’t know.” Sera had dreams just as every woman had, but they’d become shopworn in the past few years. “I’d like to have kids someday,” she confessed. “But that’s not a good reason to get married. And he’d have to be somebody I could absolutely trust.”

She thought of her sister. Thanks to Gemma, Sera had learned the hard way that trust was a rare commodity.

“You gonna tell Gemma about Ben, that you’re decorating his apartment, et cetera, et cetera?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Sera’s reaction was powerful and instinctive. Even to consider telling Gemma made her uneasy. “She doesn’t feel very attractive at the moment. I don’t want to make her feel worse than she already does,” she said, knowing that wasn’t the real reason. “Besides, she may have a bit of a thing for Ben.” She did suspect that.

Be honest, Sera, she chided herself. You don’t want Gemma to know because you don’t trust her. But she couldn’t tell Maisie that, could she?

“Apparently women do fall for their doctors, although it’s never happened to me. Are you two usually attracted to the same guys?”

“Sometimes. When we were younger. Men certainly were attracted to both of us. For some guys, twins are a challenge they just can’t resist. They have fantasies about being in bed with both of us.”

“Sick.” Maisie was disgusted.

“I agree, but it’s a fact of life.” Old grievances stirred in Sera and threatened to surface. “It’s as if we weren’t separate people.”

“Any idiot ever succeed in dating you both?”

“Once, in high school. And once was enough. I never got into a situation again where that was even possible.”

“I can see where having somebody who resembles you so much could make it tough when you first meet a guy you go for,” Maisie said thoughtfully. “Every woman likes to feel her particular look is unique, whatever it is. When there’re two of you, the guy would have to see beneath the surface right away, find your differences. Which of course is what all us females want anyhow, but the reality is that guys go on appearance a lot of the time. It usually takes them a while to get beyond that. Like forty years or thereabouts.”

They laughed, but Sera was glad that they’d reached the studio. Maisie’s remarks had brought up disturbing memories of being “one of the twins” instead of an individual in her own right. In college, far away from Gemma, she’d never admitted to being a twin when she dated. She’d had several affairs, but whenever they threatened to become serious, Sera had ended them, using the excuse that her career demanded far too much of her emotional energy to allow for long-term commitment.

That was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. The real truth was that she was a coward, and she knew it.

When anyone got too close, she ran. And if she kept on doing that, there was a better than even chance that she’d end up old and alone.

It wasn’t a future she wanted to contemplate. As she hung pictures on the walls of the set, found a clock, arranged bric-a-brac so it seemed to have been in place for years, Sera thought about the conversation with Maisie and the surprising revelation that her friend was actually considering buying an apartment here in Vancouver.

Would the time come when she, too, decided that she needed to make a nest, Sera wondered. Biological clocks were becoming a cliché. Cliché or not, hers was ticking rapidly toward thirty.

Maisie knew for a fact she wasn’t good at marriage, but Sera had never even tried it. To think about marriage you probably had to fall into love so totally fears were no longer a consideration. Well, she hadn’t come anywhere close to that. Maybe she needed to take a long, hard look at herself.

Gemma had placed the hand mirror on the stand beside the bed, and for the third time in an hour, she picked it up and scrutinized her bruised and swollen face. At least the featureless mess she’d had before the operation was gone.

It was good to be out of the hospital, although staying here in her parents’ house was a challenge. They were so sweet to her, but she was too accustomed to living on her own to really relax much. Having the packing out of her nostrils and being able to breathe without the trach tube were heaven, though. Funny how a person’s idea of pleasure could change. Before the accident partying and shopping for clothes had been tops on her fun list.

Now pleasure meant watching the swelling on her face go down. Or, once her jaw healed, opening her mouth again.

God, this was so pathetic. She needed to get her life back.

“The mail arrived. Here’s a letter for you.” Maria came into the bedroom that Gemma and Sera had shared as children and handed her a white business-size envelope. The address was neatly typed.

It was probably a bill, although how would anyone know she was here and not at her apartment?

“You want something to drink, cara?"

Maria had visited a health-food store and bought protein shakes and vitamins, which she mixed in a blender and insisted Gemma drink.

“You’re skin and bone,” Maria fussed. “It’s not healthy to lose so much weight so fast. You’ve got to take in more calories. I’ll go and fix you something.”

Gemma carefully shook her head, but arguing with your mother when you couldn’t talk was hard.

Maria hurried out, and a moment later Gemma heard the blender whining. Could a person actually gain weight with her jaw wired? Because if it was humanly possible, Maria, with her concoctions, would make sure it happened. Her mother made her crazy. Everyone made her crazy these days.

Irritably, Gemma tore open the envelope, unfolded the single sheet and scanned the typewritten words:

Beautiful Gemma,

You burn like fire in my heart,

But don’t know who I am.

Although I long to be your love,

I long to be your man.

I pause to think of you each day

I dream of you each night,

I close my eyes and there you are,

My joy, my hope, my light.

She read it through carefully, then read it once more. It was unsigned. She checked the envelope, but there was no return address, only the postmark.

It had been mailed in Vancouver the previous day. Beautiful Gemma. What kind of joke was that? And who would be so cruel? She read the simple words yet again, and for the first time since the accident, she felt the rush that came with knowing someone was attracted to her.

The poem wasn’t a joke at all. Somebody was actually writing her love poetry. No one in her entire life had done that before.

She jumped up from the bed to show Maria, but at the door she changed her mind.

This was private. This was a secret she could cherish, something to read over and over during the long nights when the demons haunted her. She didn’t want anyone else looking at it.

`Someone loved her, and she didn’t even care that he hadn’t signed his name to the declaration. It was enough that he’d written his feelings down.

She’d have enough opportunity later to speculate on who it was. Right now, the sentiment was all she needed. It made her feel like her old self, and that was a gift beyond value.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The filming was finished by noon on Saturday, and afterward Sera drove home and had a sandwich. She was about to call Ben about paint samples when her cell phone rang.

“Sera?”

She recognized his voice immediately.

“It’s Ben. I know this is awfully short notice, but I wondered if you’d like to come to a barbecue this afternoon with my friends. Greg Brulotte and his wife, Lily, just called. They’re having a few people over. I’ve mentioned you to them and they want to meet you.”

Sera hesitated. The prospect of seeing Ben again was appealing, but being thrown into a group of strangers wasn’t the way she’d prefer to do it.

“It’ll be very casual, and I have to warn you my godson Stanley will be present.”

“Grendel, too?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, thank you, then I’ll come.”

“I knew that dog would earn his keep one of these days.”

She laughed. “I was about to call you, actually. I wanted you to look at some paint samples.”

“You pick out the paint, I’ll say yes to whatever you choose.”

“Here we go again.” He’d been ridiculously grateful for the chairs she’d chosen for the office. Had sent her a bouquet of daisies and a funny thank-you card.

“What if you don’t like the colors?”

“I will. I guarantee it. You’re a genius at this stuff.”

“Okay, but I still think you should check them out.”

“Please, please don’t make me.”

She reluctantly agreed, and smiled when his voice took on an exuberant note as soon as they weren’t talking about paint. “I’ll come for you at five. Just give me the address.”

She did.

She found her color samples, chose the shades for his loft in ten minutes, then spent the next hour frantically trying to figure out what to wear. She wished she had time to race out and buy a new dress. She wished she was the sort of woman who had manicures and pedicures regularly.

She finally decided on a simple yellow cotton sundress with green daisies on it; it reminded her of the flowers Ben had sent. She painted her toenails and, using a cut lemon, got the worst of the paint stains off her hands.

He was ten minutes early and she was running late when the buzzer sounded.

She released the downstairs lock and quickly shoved her feet into bare sandals. She was giving her riotous curls a hasty finger comb when the doorbell rang.

“Hi.” She knew she sounded breathless. “Come in. You can look at these colors while I get my handbag.”

“Do I have to?” He was wearing a white polo shirt that emphasized his bronzed skin, and khaki shorts. His legs, she saw, were strong, well shaped and attractively hairy.