Pamela Bauer - Two Much Alike

“Do you want me to print them or not?” Josh asked a bit impatiently, when Alex still hadn’t given him the go-ahead.

Alex hesitated only a moment before saying, “Yeah. It’s about time somebody found that dead-beat.”

JOE SMITH WAS ON HIS WAY into the hardware store when he heard a voice behind him say, “Someone’s looking for you.”

For a moment Joe felt trapped. It was an instinctive reaction caused by a fear that the identity he’d worked so hard to conceal might be exposed. It didn’t matter that during the two years he’d lived in northern Minnesota, no one had suspected that he was anyone but Joe Smith, a man looking for a quiet life along the shores of Lake Superior. He knew, however, that the past had a way of catching up with a person, especially when that past contained secrets.

Hoping today wasn’t that day, he forced himself to turn around. Standing behind him was the owner of Whispering Pines, a resort on the outskirts of the small town of Grand Marais.

“Hey, Pete. How’s it going?” Joe greeted him with a handshake.

“It’s going good. How about yourself?”

“Can’t complain.” Joe knew he needed to get right to the point. “Did you say someone’s looking for me?”

“Yup. One of the guests at the lodge,” the older man responded. “Says he wants to talk to you about a fly-in.”

The muscles in Joe’s body began to uncoil. He should have known that it would be someone wanting to go fishing, not a snoop asking questions.

“Did you tell him to contact Blue Waters?”

“Sure I did, but I suspect they told him what they tell most tourists about this time of year. If you don’t book ahead, you’re out of luck. And you know how these rich folks are. They think they can get whatever they want by flapping a few extra bills in someone’s face.”

“How big of bills?” Joe asked with a sly smile.

“Big enough to turn my head,” Pete admitted with a chuckle. “Seriously, it could be a nice little side job for you,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “I know you have a loyalty to Blue Waters, but you really should think about being your own boss.”

Joe looked out at Lake Superior and squinted as the sun bounced off the glistening water. “It’s a lot of work running your own business.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” the other man said with an understanding shake of his head. “But you’re a good pilot, Joe. And as for the responsibility and hard work…well, you’re practically running Blue Waters right now.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Pete, but I’m content to leave the problems behind when I go home. Blue Waters has been good to me.”

It was true. Joe had worried that with a new identity he’d have trouble finding work as a pilot. Although he’d logged a considerable number of hours in the air while in the Navy, they were hours he’d been forced to leave behind, along with his name, when he’d moved to Minnesota. Not wanting to risk being traced because of his license, he’d started over, taking flying lessons and passing all the requirements of a new pilot. If anyone at Blue Waters thought it was odd that he appeared to be a much better pilot than his experience indicated, they didn’t comment on it. He was able to work in relative anonymity, without any questions about his past, without any enquiries into his personal life.

It was the way Joe wanted it and the way he needed it to be. It would have been nice to run his own flying service, but it was a risk he couldn’t take. Running a business meant regulations and regulations meant red tape and inspectors. What he couldn’t afford was to leave a paper trail that would allow the wrong people to come looking for him. He’d made a new life for himself, deliberately choosing Smith as a surname because it was common and hard to trace. There was no point in taking a chance that someone would discover that he’d once been somebody else.

“Besides, with my dad’s health being what it is…” He let the sentence trail off, knowing perfectly well the lodge’s owner would deduce that Joe worked for someone else because he needed to take care of his father.

Which wasn’t a lie. A head injury and subsequent stroke had forever changed his father. Joe hadn’t anticipated that the strong, imposing man who had run his home with the same discipline he’d used when commanding his naval troops would ever need to lean on anyone—and especially not his son. The man who had been the epitome of authority now found himself dependent.

“I understand what you’re saying, Joe,” Pete said, his eyes as sympathetic as his tone. “How is the Admiral?”

“He’s doing all right,” he answered honestly.

Pete shook his head. “The brain’s a complicated thing, isn’t it?”

Joe nodded. “It is. He can tell you exactly what he paid for every car he ever purchased, yet he has trouble making change for a dollar.”

“How’s Letty been working out for you?”

Letty was a retired nurse Joe had hired to look after his father whenever he was gone. “She’s been great. She certainly has made my life a lot easier.”

“I knew she would.” Pete nodded toward the hardware store. “You going in or coming out?”

“In. Need to get a washer for a faucet. What about you?”

“I’m on my way to get my ears lowered,” he said, glancing in the direction of the barbershop down the street. “But I’m glad I ran into you. About this fella that’s looking for you…should I tell him to stop by?”

What Joe didn’t want was people coming to his place. His home at the lake was his sanctuary. The fewer people who visited there, the less complicated his life would be. “I’ll tell you what. How about if I give him a call when I get back to the house?” he suggested.

“Good enough.” Pete gave him the man’s name, then bid Joe goodbye, leaving him with a “You take care now.”

Joe certainly would do just that. He’d taken a lot of care from the very first day he’d arrived in northern Minnesota. He’d been careful to mind his own business, careful not to raise anyone’s curiosity about his or his father’s past, and especially careful not to give anyone a reason to believe he was anything but a concerned son who’d brought his ailing father to spend what was left of his life in the peaceful woods near the Canadian border.

No question—Joe would take very good care not to let his past catch up with him.

“I WISH I COULD GO WITH,” ten-year-old Emma said on a sigh as she watched her mother apply mascara to lashes that were already long and lush.

“You wouldn’t enjoy yourself,” Frannie Harper told her daughter.

“Yes, I would. Auntie Lois is so much fun.”

Lois was fun, Frannie thought as memories of their last night out together filtered through her mind. Latin music, salsa dancing, Corona beer, handsome men.

“Sorry, love, this is a night for grown-ups only.”

And there weren’t many of those in her life, Frannie acknowledged as she put aside the mascara and went to the closet. Being a single parent, she’d had little time for anything except work and taking care of her family. Nor did she have the money for going out with the girls—something she was reminded of when she opened her closet door.

She grimaced as she pushed aside hangers holding garments that should have been relegated to the rag bag years ago, but still constituted her wardrobe. She didn’t have a single thing that could be classified as trendy. Practical yes, trendy no. She knew the kind of places her sister frequented, and they were filled with people wearing the latest styles.

She sighed, knowing she really had only one choice: Old Faithful. It was a black sheath with a touch of glitter, a dress she figured she must have worn at least a hundred times. “Timeless” was how the clerk who’d sold it to her had described it. “Boring” was how Frannie had come to look at it. She dragged it from the hanger and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror.