Their parents weren’t concerned about the money. Well, they were. A lot, actually. But that wasn’t the topic of discussion. What they wanted to talk about was getting a divorce. The loss of their home and the sudden insertion of money meant that something they had both thought about for years had suddenly become the logical next step.
Twenty minutes later the twins emerged, and their place at the lobby’s square breakfast table was taken by Tatyana. Twenty minutes after that, their parents settled on six times the home-and-contents valuation, the check was written, and the papers were signed. One life ended. Another began. All it took was a blast of flame, a near-death experience, and a vanished Examiner that neither Dillon nor Sean would ever miss. Innocent or not.
Drivers were arranged and they went shopping. The twins took one car, their parents two others. All four were given credit cards, compliments of Tatyana’s mythical company. Before they departed, Carver said Sean’s idea for where they should go for training was still under discussion. When Sean tried to offer more reasons for why it was a good idea, Carver shook his head and said they were way beyond arguments. The important thing was for them to reinsert themselves into normal life. They needed to remain anchored in sight of the outside world. They were recruits now. There was a meticulous process to be followed. As far as their home civilization was concerned, they needed to remain in clearly defined roles.
Dillon waited until they were in the Hollister shop to ask, “What about all this is normal?”
“Home civilization,” Sean repeated, trying to work his mind around the concepts. “Clearly defined roles.”
A couple of weeks earlier, the whole deal would have been part of some fantasyland, being given their very own credit cards and told to go spend. But after an hour the whole process was flat. Boring. An endless array of stacked clothes and canned music and happy-sappy salespeople. They ate in the mall’s food court, making lists of stuff they couldn’t put off until another day.
They were buying a couple of new phones when a familiar voice said, “I should have known to check here first.”
Carey waited while they finished paying, took hold of some of their packages, and walked them out before demanding, “Did Eric do this?”
The question caught them both completely by surprise. Dillon was the one she was watching, and he replied, “No. No way.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ve got to tell you, it is just like him. He always said it wasn’t who got hit but who was standing at the end of the game.”
“Carey, look . . .”
“He loved trolling the dark side of the internet.” She wore the same sort of pinched expression as she had the other day. “He and his buddies could spend hours talking about how to make a bomb.”
“It wasn’t Eric,” Dillon repeated.
“How do you know?”
“Because it wasn’t a bomb,” Sean said.
“Gas leak,” Dillon said.
She looked from one to the other. “Really?”
“We’ve already met with the company,” Sean said.
“They signed a check and everything,” Dillon confirmed.
She released some of her tension in a single long breath. Sean loved how he could stand up close to her and look, absorb her beauty. Her hair was not red and it was not blonde. It was both. Same with the eyes, not grey, not green, but some amazing mix. On her, the freckles that swept across the upper part of her cheeks and nose were perfect. Like her lips. There was just one problem with the whole mix.
She only had eyes for Dillon.
She asked, “So where will you live?”
“Excellent question,” Sean replied.
“Our parents are getting a divorce,” Dillon announced.
Her empathy was so genuine, tears formed. “You poor guys.”
Dillon shrugged both handfuls of shopping bags. “It’s not really a surprise.”
“Well, it is and it isn’t,” Sean said.
“It’s not like they fought or anything,” his brother agreed.
“But things haven’t been great for a long time.”
They walked back out to the car, where the driver helped them deposit the bags in the trunk, then they returned to the mall. They took turns trying to describe what it was like around their home. Or rather, former home. Carey was amazingly easy to talk with. And her concentration was total. When a trio of school friends called to her, she either didn’t hear or chose to ignore them entirely. The girls laughed in that mocking way that normally would have left Sean’s face burning. But today it was just part of the background noise.
They entered a café and ordered, and Carey excused herself, saying she needed to call her father. They took a table by the front window and checked off all the items they had bought.
Carey returned to the table, saw what they were doing, and said, “I hate shopping worse than anything.”
“You can’t,” Dillon replied. “You’re a girl. You’re beautiful. Shopping is part of your genetic makeup.”
“I hate makeup more than shopping.”
“Careful,” Dillon said. “The mall patrol is going to swoop down and lock you up.”
“My dad’s best friend teaches business law. He’ll get me out.”
“They’ll put you on mall probation. Make you go to night school. How to become a cosmetic whatever.”
“Cosmetician,” she supplied. “Double yuck.”
Sean listened to the exchange, then watched them back off and dive into their respective cups. Like they needed a breather. He sipped at his own drink, which had gone cold, and tasted nothing. In the space of that exchange, he had become the outsider.
Carey asked, “Are you guys okay?”
“Define okay,” Dillon said.
“Where are you staying?”
“Homewood Suites. We’re supposed to meet the folks this evening, decide where we’re going to live. You know, who with.” Dillon glanced at Sean. “I guess we better talk that one through.”
Sean just nodded. There was a sullen lump in his chest. He was jealous and there was nothing he could do about it. Carey was becoming Dillon’s girl. It was only a matter of time.
Dillon turned back to Carey and asked, “How do you tell us apart?”
She blinked. “What?”
“You always knew who was who. From the very first time we met. Almost nobody can. I was just wondering.”
“I don’t . . . You’re very different people.”
“That’s right. We are,” Dillon said. “That’s the amazing thing about you. You see people. You notice things.”
Carey wore her hair back behind her ears, but one strand had worked out of the clip and wandered loose over her left eye. Sean wanted to reach out and brush it away, get in close enough to breathe her clean scent. But he couldn’t. That was Dillon’s job now.
He was brought back around by Carey saying, “Maybe you could come live with us.”
Dillon’s mouth opened and shut, but all he managed was, “What?”
“Four years ago, Dad’s brother went through a bad breakup. My aunt . . .” She waved that away. Another time. “He came to live with us. He and my dad fixed up the garage loft into this really cool place. Last fall he took a job in Seattle. The loft has been empty ever since.”
“What about your dad?”
“He never liked Eric. Not even a little bit. I guess in a way he was waiting for the bad thing to happen. When he heard what you did, he . . .”
“What?” Dillon pressed.
She showed them a beautiful crimson blush. “He said it was nice to know there were still some white knights in this crazy world.”
Dillon looked at Sean. As if he would ever object to this. When Sean did not say anything, Dillon said, “So your dad is okay with two strangers moving in.”
“You’re not strangers. He said to tell you that you’d be welcome.” She looked from one to the other. Appearing anxious now in a completely new way. “That is, if you want.”