CHAPTER 6
Mimi ran her hand along the back of my sofa. “Nice place.” She pointed to the black-and-white photographs over the fireplace. “You take these?”
I nodded. “It’s been a hobby since high school. I’m not very good. But it’s cheaper than buying wall art, I guess.”
She walked over to study the trio of pictures. I’d taken them two days after a favorite restaurant burned down. The place had been a Madison landmark, and I wanted to make sure part of it stayed alive.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said. “These are good. All jagged edges and stark destruction. Like what was once so familiar is gone.” She turned toward me. “Stuff like that happens all the time, doesn’t it? Now you see it, now you don’t. People, too. Here one minute, gone the next.”
“I don’t know about that,” I lied. “You want something? Chips? Soda?”
She shook her head and continued her stroll around my apartment, then picked a book up off my sofa and thumbed through a few pages. “You always read stuff this literary?”
“Not always. It’s a best seller.” I poured myself a glass of ice water. “I need to stay up on what’s current so I can make recommendations to library patrons.”
She closed the book, tossed it back on the sofa, and looked at me. “You take things very seriously, don’t you, Tess? I’ll have to remember that.”
An awkwardness hung in the air. “What now?” I asked.
Mimi pursed her lips, as though considering our next move. “Let’s start with the physicals. Kick off your shoes.”
We stood barefoot back to back in my kitchen and laid our hands across the tops of our heads. Exactly the same height.
“I’m a size six,” Mimi said. “Straight off the rack. How about you?”
“Same here.” We shopped in different stores, though. You could tell she spent good money on clothes. While I envied her polished look, it never made sense for me to make those kinds of purchases.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of Mimi. A close-up of her face. Then she took one of me. We compared them, straining to find differences. With the exception of her hair—highlighted with blond streaks and cut an inch or two shorter than mine—we found none.
“What’s your ethnic background, your heritage?” she asked. I remember thinking a history scholar would ask that.
“My paternal side comes from Scotland,” I told her. “Not that long ago, actually. My father’s grandparents came over and started some kind of printing business in the early 1900s. My father’s father was the first in his family to be born in the United States. My dad was born in Massachusetts. Not far from Boston.” I recalled Mimi had said she’d taken her PhD from Tufts. I started to wonder how many coincidences were going to pile up. “I don’t remember which town.”
“Was he by any chance an identical twin?” Mimi asked. “I knew a guy in undergrad. His father was a twin and so was his mother. The twins married each other. I guess one set started dating and then hooked their sibs up on a blind double date. You should see the kids these two couples had. They all look alike.”
“Double cousins,” I said. “We have some around here. But I don’t have anything like that. No uncles, no aunts.”
“What about your grandparents? Where are they?”
“They died before I was born. Car crash.”
Mimi considered that for a moment. “So you never met them?”
“How could I meet them if they’re dead?”
“Sorry. Thinking out loud.” She sat down. On my sofa. In my spot. Legs curled up under her. Just the way I like to sit. Anyone looking at her would see she was completely comfortable occupying my space. “So you have no family here in Madison? Beyond your father, I mean.”
“How do you know my father’s in Madison?”
“He’s not? I’m sorry. I assumed. When we were talking about coincidences back at the bar. You said you’d been coming home from visiting your father when you first saw me. Did I get that wrong?”
“No. I guess I forgot I mentioned him.”
“So there’s no one else? No family?” Her voice dropped into a seductive huff. “No lover?”
“I thought we were following coincidences.” I’m sure my tone was sharper than it needed to be.
“You don’t like talking about yourself. That’s another thing I’ll have to remember.” She looked at me for a few moments before speaking again. “Back to your father and his Scottish roots. Let’s see what we can deduce. You never met your father’s family.”
“Like I said, that’s tough to do since my grandparents died before I was born.”
“Don’t get testy. We’re following leads. Let’s say your dad’s an identical twin.”
“But he’s not.”
“I said let’s say. Your fuse runs short, doesn’t it?”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s say my dad’s an identical twin.”
“Then let’s say he disappoints his family in some way,” Mimi continued.
My father has disappointed a lot of people, I thought.
“Or maybe his family disappointed him,” she said.
My father’s had that experience, too. A lot of people have let him down. My mother and I lead the list.
“It had to be something big.” Mimi’s gestures picked up as she built her scenario. “Something that led to a big family fallout. Who knows what it was all about? Religious differences, maybe? You know, back in the day people took that kind of stuff a lot more seriously. Your father a religious man?”
I shook my head. “It never seemed to interest him. At least he never talked to me about it.”
“Maybe he fell in love with the wrong girl.” Mimi’s smile got devious. “Or maybe even the wrong boy.”
“Never happened.”
“So it was something else. A youthful indiscretion. A run-in with the law. The particulars aren’t important right now. Whatever it was, it was big. There was a major family blowout. Yelling, screaming. Threats, warnings, denunciations.” Her arms waved as she spun the tale. “I can totally see it. Your father finally had enough. He made the decision to walk away from the whole bunch. His own twin included. Disowned his entire family, grabbed your mother . . . that is, if he even knew her at the time . . . and struck out on his own. When you were born he told you your grandparents had died. He became a man who promised himself he’d live his life on his own terms.”
I thought about my father, alone in his small apartment. I doubted those would be the terms he would have chosen.
“His twin might have been devastated, but life goes on. Unbeknownst to your father, his twin meets a girl, marries, and goes on to become my father.” Mimi’s blue eyes were wild with the explanation she was giving birth to. “And then, three decades later, you and I meet. Not with that universal randomness crap you suggested earlier but in some karmic script written by an eternal hand. We become friends, unravel the mystery, heal the wounds, and find a way to reunite our long-estranged family.”
“Are you sure your PhD’s in history? That much drama sounds more like hysterical fiction. And you’ve got enough let’s say in there to make the whole thing sound like a farce.”
“You think so? I read about this exact thing happening, not too long ago. In New York City. A girl is sitting in her first day of graduate school at Columbia. The professor tells the students in his seminar class to introduce themselves. Tell a little bit about their upbringing. Some girl she’d never met tells the story about how she’d been put up for adoption as an infant. Describes the story her mother told her about her birth mother. The whole thing rings a bell with the other girl. Long story short, Girl A starts putting two and two together, sits down with Girl B for a cup of coffee, and a couple of weeks later DNA tests confirm they’re sisters. Never laid eyes on one another before they walked into that seminar room. Does that sound like hysterical farce?”
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I’ve known some people who need to be right. Always, no matter what the topic. Maybe Mimi was one of those. Still, it felt like a betrayal to my father to sit and listen as she spun stories about a man she’d never met. A man who’d sacrificed his entire life to take care of me.
“Odd things happen,” I said. “I’ll admit that. But there’s a piece of this pie you don’t know that eliminates your entire premise. My grandparents left my father a trust fund after they died. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s been disinherited.”
Mimi wasn’t one to let facts stop her once she got on a roll. If you want to know the truth, the more I got to know her, she struck me as someone who wouldn’t let anything stop her.
“What proof do you have it’s a death-related trust fund?” she asked. “Maybe it’s money his parents gave him to stay away. Hush money for never again speaking of the dark family secret.”
I almost wished Mimi’s story could be true, dark skeletons in the closet and all. At least it would mean there was family out there somewhere for my father. But the cold, hard truth was, with the exception of me, Sanford Kincaid was alone in the world. Parents dead. Denied the circle of colleagues that would have come from the long and rewarding career he was robbed of when he had to step away from academia to raise me. Abandoned by his wife. Left alone in a low-rent four-plex to imagine there might be friends waiting to share a cup of coffee at a neighborhood shop.
The urge to protect my father was as near as skin to me. I’m sure my voice was firmer than needed. “It didn’t happen that way, Mimi. Let’s talk about something else.”
She didn’t argue with me. But while she may have been gracious enough to move off the topic of my father, the mystery in which we found ourselves was too juicy a bone for her to stop gnawing. “What about our birthday? Explain away that one.”
My irritation was growing. Maybe I was tired, maybe I was frustrated. Whatever it was, I wasn’t enjoying our conversation anymore. “Millions of people are born every year. There are only three hundred sixty-five days for them to do it. Tens of thousands of babies were born that October eleventh.”
“Do they share the same face?”
When I didn’t answer, she watched me for a while. The Nancy Drew sense of adventure left her eyes. “Have I said something to offend you?”
I didn’t feel like answering her. Maybe because I wasn’t quite sure what was irritating me. Instead, I looked at the clock. “It’s almost nine. I have an early day tomorrow. You ready for me to drive you back to the hotel?”
“You’re pissed about something.”
My irritation mushroomed into a full-blown anger. And my headache was back. So I did what I was taught in that anger management class I was forced to take my senior year in high school. It was my punishment for kicking in the front of my locker after Deidre Cummings told me it was better if Thomas Franke took her to the homecoming dance instead of me because at least she’d have something decent to wear. Stupid teenaged thing, I know. Probably the hormones raging. I thought the whole idea was bogus, but I’ve got to admit, the class taught me skills that help me keep my snarling dog of anger chained up tight.
So rather than going off on Mimi I closed my eyes, took in four deep breaths, and focused on slowing my heartbeat. It was a minute or two before that dog settled back into its cage. I appreciated her staying quiet long enough for me to calm down.
“I’m not like you,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
I struggled to find the right words. “I get it. This whole thing intrigues you. But I’m not used to making up stories about my family.”
“You’re telling me you’re not even curious about what’s going on here?”
“Let’s stop, okay? This isn’t what I want to be doing right now.”
“Then why did you come looking for me?”
“I don’t know. I saw you. It was weird. Then I saw you again.” I knew I wasn’t answering her question. “I don’t know why I went into the hotel.”
“Because you wanted to meet me.” She was as calm as I was agitated. “Because there’s an answer to this riddle, and you’re as interested in finding it out as I am. So let’s get to it. You don’t like talking about your dad and his family. Okay. There’s plenty of strings to tug on to solve this mystery. How about your mom? Where is she? Where do her people come from?”
I took my glass of water into the kitchen and emptied it down the sink.
“Uh-oh,” Mimi said. “Another nerve hit. Sorry. Do you see her often?”
Forcing myself to stay calm with every step, I returned to where I’d been sitting. I looked across to Mimi. She seemed so relaxed. So interested in what I had to say. It was a story I didn’t like telling.
Yet for some reason I did.
“My mother left us. I was twelve years old.”
Mimi’s voice dropped into the sympathy register. “Oh, Tess. I’m sorry. What a rotten move. Where is she now?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“She doesn’t keep in touch?” Mimi sounded incredulous. “With her own daughter?”
Something hot was crawling up from my stomach, burning its way higher and higher in my throat. Once again, my anger dog pulled on its tether. “No. I haven’t seen her since she left.”
“What happened? She and your dad fight all the time? Was she feeling trapped by the responsibilities of motherhood? Some sort of psychotic break?”
The burning found its way into my mouth, and my snarling dog broke away from its chain and lunged forward. “This isn’t a parlor game, Mimi! What business is it of yours, anyway?”
My rage was immediately replaced with spine-crushing shame. Just like it always is.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I guess we all have pieces of our family history too tough to discuss. You happened to bump into mine. That doesn’t mean I should yell.” I apologized again and hoped she knew I was sincere. “Let’s chalk it up to me being a private person.”
She smiled in what I assumed at the time was forgiveness. “I know how you feel. That gives us something else in common. You grew up mostly with only your dad. It’s always been Mom and me. My dad died about six weeks before I was born.”
“Was this down in Florida?”
“No. I was born in Colorado. Boulder. Nice town. But kind of lonely, I guess.”
I was relieved to have the focus off me and my family. “Was it tough growing up without him?”
Mimi’s eyes sparkled through a shine of tears. She bit her lower lip and took several long breaths before she spoke. When she did, her voice was choked. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you it’s impossible to miss something you never had.” The calm sophistication she displayed throughout the evening disappeared. She appeared vulnerable. Fragile, maybe.
“Did your mom ever remarry?”
Mimi shook her head. “It was always her and me. Dad left her pretty well fixed financially. There were never any worries about money, and she worked only because she loved it so. I’m not quite sure what it was she did, actually. I was a kid. All I knew was that she traveled a lot for business. And I had a wonderful nanny named Lily. But one day Mom came home and announced she’d quit her job. I was thrilled. I wasn’t so happy when she announced we were moving, but I got used to it.”
“Why’d you move?”
Mimi shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Mom needed a fresh start. Away from memories of my dad. All I know is she came home one day, pulled me out of school, told me everything was going to be different, and boom! We were off to sunny Florida. After that, she made raising me her full-time job. She’d be there for me every day when I got home from school. She was my Girl Scout leader for years until I begged her to let me quit.” Mimi laughed. “She enjoyed that chapter of our lives way more than I did. We traveled. Around the country at first, but as I got older we’d go wherever she thought might be fun. When I went off to college her wanderlust took off with a vengeance. Without me to tie her down she’s free to roam the world. I get postcards and Skype messages from places I have to Google so I can find out where the heck my own mother is.”
As she told me about some of her mother’s adventures, I remember thinking I’d kill for the opportunity to see that kind of spirit in my father. To see who he might have been without having me to tie him down.
“But she always stays in touch.” I hated to admit it, but I felt jealous. “You always know where she is.”
“When she can. I haven’t heard from her in over a week. She doesn’t even know I’m here. This job interview came up after she left for Brazil. She’s cruising with some rain forest salvation league. Volunteering to gather water and soil samples. At least I think that’s what she said she’d be doing. There’s no Wi-Fi where she is. No phone service.”
“Do you miss her?”
Mimi’s face softened. Her smile was wistful. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “I do. I miss her a lot. For a long time my mother was all I had.” She stayed quiet for several moments. “But life goes on and all that rot. Time for moving ahead, going our own ways, Mom and me. And she’s not the only one having an adventure right now, is she? I can’t wait to tell her all about this. She’ll want to meet you, that’s for sure.”
In that moment I knew I wanted to meet her, too. And another, very different, realization hit me in the same instant. I was tired. Very tired. I didn’t know whether it was the time or the circumstances, but I was suddenly weary to the bone.
“It’s late,” I said. “My bed is calling out to me. Come on. I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”
Mimi took her time surveying my apartment one more time. From my kitchen to my breakfast nook, across the living room and down the hall toward my lone bathroom and single bedroom.
“You’ve created a cozy space here, Tess. I like it.” She patted the sofa with both hands. “It’s been a hell of a day, to say the very least. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay right here.”
I was taken aback at her assumption she’d be welcomed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not exactly set up for houseguests.”
“Oh, I’m no bother. I’ll camp out here on the sofa. We’ll have breakfast together. I’ll walk you to work. Then you can point me in the right direction, and I’ll get myself back to the hotel.”
It’s odd, isn’t it? Those in-the-moment decisions we make that seem so innocent yet cost us so very much. I guess now I could blame it on my fatigue. But that wouldn’t change anything about how things turned out, would it?
“Why not?” I said. “I have lots of new toothbrushes from past visits to my dentist. Let me go get you some blankets.”
Mimi took her time in the bathroom as I readied a sleeping spot for her, but she finally emerged, face scrubbed, teeth brushed, and wearing my favorite pajamas.
“All set,” I said. “This sofa is actually more comfortable than you’d think.” I turned to head down the hall to my bedroom when it dawned on me.
“You know, I don’t know your last name.” I’m sure I sounded as silly as I felt. “If I wake up tomorrow morning and all my furniture’s missing, I’ll need a name for the police report.”
She snuggled down under the covers. “Didn’t I tell you? How rude of me. It’s Winslow. Tell the cops to be on the lookout for Mimi Winslow from Coral Gables, Florida.”
The floor beneath me seemed to give way. A hum buzzed in my ears, growing to a deafening roar in less than one heartbeat. I held my arms out to my side to steady myself and willed the noxious liquid gathering in the back of my mouth to return to where it came from. I turned around slowly, certain I’d collapse. I walked back over to the sofa and looked down at her.
“Did you say Winslow?” I asked.
“Yes. Tess, are you okay?”
I wasn’t sure of much at that moment. But I was most assuredly certain I wasn’t okay.
“Winslow,” I said. “Winslow is my mother’s maiden name.”