Page 45 of Misadventures With The Mistaken Twin

I couldn't imagine something like that happening to me. My good name was my work, and my work was my good name. They went hand-in-hand, especially in a small town like Bozeman. Any town, for that matter. Having that taken away left Jack with...what? Nothing.

As I was placing a wax seal for a toilet in a new home construction, my cell beeped that I had a text. I read the display.

Jack.

My heart rate accelerated, my body temperature went up just seeing his number. Excited, I read the text:Tell Goldie I get it.

Huh? I was hoping more for an 'I love you' or something similar. My heart plummeted out of my throat in disappointment. I had no idea what the text meant, but I was about to find out.

“Goldie, Jack just sent me a text,” I said, once she picked up at the store.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding nonchalant.

“Yes,” I said testily into my cell. “He wanted me to tell you, 'I get it'. Those were his words. Know what that means?”

Goldie chuckled. “Hang on. Yes, the ribbed condoms are for her pleasure. Yes, you still use a condom if she's on the pill. Listen, Veronica? I've got to go. This man needs some sex ed.”

She clicked off. One thing Goldie was known for was responsible sex. She touted condoms for everyone unless in a committed relationship, and even then unless they wanted achance at having a baby. Obviously, Condom Guy needed some enlightening. I remembered a similar conversation when I was nineteen. I didn't envy him.

What did Jack mean? He gets what? Until I cornered Goldie at the store when I worked next, it would just remain a mystery. Grumpily, I went back to work on the toilet. Patience was not one of my strong suits.

I stoppedat home to eat lunch between jobs. I had the contract for plumbing in three new construction homes in a high-end subdivision and had to stop at the plumbing supply store afterward for another fitting I'd bought in the wrong size.

I looked out the back window, saw the piles and piles of snow that weren't going anywhere until April. The thermometer suction cupped to the window read thirteen. I thought about Miami and how it must be warm, warm enough to wear shorts and tank tops, bathing suits even. The sand must be hot under bare feet, the smell of sunscreen in the air. I sighed, knowing the only sunscreen I'd be wearing any time soon was on my face the next time I went skiing.

I had the sandwich fixings out on the counter and was squirting spicy mustard onto some wheat bread when there was a knock on the door followed by a 'Hello!'

Crap. Violet. This was not when I wanted to have our little confrontation about Jack, high school, and her ridiculous penchant for falling into very messy situations. I had work to get back to and I was cranky enough without her adding to it. I took a deep breath, put down the mustard and walked into my tiny living room, girding myself for my sister.

I didn't expect her to have company. There, standing next to Violet, was Jack. A large black carry-on bag was slung over one shoulder.

My worst fears were realized in that moment. That sickening, stomach plummeting feeling you get on a bad roller coaster squeezed my stomach. Jack had picked Violet after all. No wait, maybe he doesn't know Violet is really Violet. It was like high school all over again.

“Reid,” I said. He wore the coat he'd bought when he'd been in town last, the same gray cap. He looked good. Even tanner than last time. I barely glanced at my sister. I knew what she looked like. I saw her every time I looked in the mirror.

“Miller,” he replied. He was staring at me, too. I didn't know what he could see, but I tried my hardest to keep everything I felt for him, including the heart wrenching rejection, out of my gaze.

“Look what I picked up at the airport.” After about ten seconds of everyone frozen in place, the only thing moving was Violet's gaze darting between us, she piped up, “Well, this is interesting.”

I broke the spell. “You're back.”

Jack nodded. “This morning. Uncle Owen said he'd get me but sent her”—he angled his thumb at Violet—“instead.”

Uncle Owen must be back in town, but I didn't really care at the moment. I couldn't stand it any longer. “You know that's...”

I pointed at my sister. Right then and there, I wanted some scissors so I could cut off Violet's hair. Make it short and completely different than mine so it would be blatantly obvious who was who. Not that we tried to look alike, but wearing it long seemed to be the best look for both of us. We had different styles when it came to clothes, but someone like Jack who hadn't been around in ten years wouldn't know that. Nor the fact that he was a guy and they generally never noticed something like that anyway.

“Violet,” Jack replied clearly, no waffling or second guessing.

I pursed my lips. “You can tell the difference between us...now?”

Jack dropped his bag on the floor, walked over to me. Took my fingers in his cold ones. He stood close enough where I felt his warm breath, spearminty fresh. “You're Veronica. Also known as Miller. Not because I don't know which sister you are, but because that's the nickname I've always called you. Ever since I first wanted you when I was seventeen.” He tilted my chin up with a finger, forced me to look into his blue eyes. “You look nothing like Violet.”

I humphed at that one. “Yeah, right.” I knew the difference, the subtle nuances between Violet and myself. My parents could see them, not many others though.

“Your right eye tilts up in this really attractive way your sister's doesn't.”

“Hey!” Violet said. She stood there, inside the doorway. She hadn't moved.