Barbara Dunlop - The Twin Switch

Sophie was very pretty. Nat was girl-next-door cute. But none of us could hold a candle to Brooklyn’s allure. Men tripped over their own feet when she was in the room. She invariably got us great tables and great service from earnest waiters and maître d’s.

Mostly I just took the perks without bothering to be jealous of Brooklyn.

“Through the lobby?” she asked the bartender.

“Straight across to the gold elevator. It will take you to the fifty-eighth floor. Mandy can show you.” He beckoned one of the waitresses.

“Just in case we can’t read the sign,” Nat whispered to me.

“Just in case he misunderstood the diamond ring,” I whispered back.

“Men have no consciences.”

“Luckily for James, Brooklyn does.”

My best friend, and an only child with two distant, busy parents, Brooklyn had spent countless weekends and holidays with my big extended family. She’d had a crush on James since we were old enough to know what a crush was. He’d finally invited her to the junior prom, and there’d been no going back.

Their relationship made such perfect sense for everyone, including me. I’d been testing the term sister-in-law inside my head for months now. I couldn’t wait to use it in real life.

As we walked to the elevator, I looked around for shaggy-neat-hair guy.

He wasn’t in the bar, and he wasn’t in the lobby.

Ah, well. There was always tomorrow.

The sauna and spa lounge were coed. He could be a spa guy.

Or maybe I’d check out the exercise room. He definitely looked like the weight-training type. And I could see him on an elliptical machine…or rowing.

I could definitely picture him rowing.

Two

I wasn’t a morning person at the best of times.

It was doubly hard to wake up with the daylight filtered by an opaque blind, the air in the room cool on my face and cozy in a bed that was softer than a cloud.

Reluctantly giving up my state of sleep, I reached for the last wispy threads of my dream. There’d been a blue-eyed man on a surfboard off the beach of a tropical island. A dog was playing in the sand while the palm-frond room of a nearby hut rustled in the floral breeze.

I’d felt safe and warm inside the hut, but I couldn’t remember why. I struggled to find the details, but the synaptic connections evaporated, locking me out of my subconscious.

It was morning.

I opened my eyes to see the bathroom light on, the door partially closed.

I listened, hoping Brooklyn would be done soon so I could take a turn.

I looked to the bedside clock and found it was nearly nine.

I’d slept a long time.

I was hungry.

As I waited for Brooklyn, I weighted the cost-benefit of eggs Benedict. It was my all-time favorite breakfast. But the béarnaise sauce meant extra crunches next week and maybe some extra laps in the pool.

My bridesmaid dress was exactly the right size, and too much indulgence this weekend would blow the lines. A custom-fit dress deserved the flattest stomach I could muster.

Still, one breakfast of eggs Benedict—how much would that hurt?

“Brooklyn?” I called out. “Are you almost done?”

My bladder capacity wasn’t unlimited.

She didn’t answer, and I got up out of bed.

We’d come back to the room together after dinner last night.

While we ate, she’d been alternately chipper and chatty, and then suddenly lost in thought. She was the first of my close friends to get married, so I couldn’t tell if this was normal. It could easily be normal, but something seemed off.

I’d planned to talk to her once we got in bed. There was nothing like girl talk in the dark to get to the heart of a matter.

But I’d gone out like a light while she was still in the bathroom.

Now, I found it empty.

I was both surprised and relieved. I wouldn’t have to wait any longer, but I did wonder why she didn’t wake me up for breakfast.

I hoped they all hadn’t eaten without me. I’d be more willing to dive into a plate of eggs Benedict if I had coconspirators in the indulgence. Hey, if the bride was going all out, I wasn’t going to be a wet blanket.

I changed quickly, ignoring my makeup bag, and threw my hair into a ponytail. I climbed into a pair of jeans and a casual blue blouse along with a pair of ankle boots and some earrings. I was good enough for breakfast.

I headed for the Sunriser dining room on the main floor.

There I found Sophie and Nat. Like me, they’d decided it was a day to go for it with plates of gooey Belgian waffles and steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Where’s Brooklyn?” I asked as I sat down on a cushioned seat at the table for four.

The room was West Coast elegant, with gleaming wood beams soaring above us and a high wall of windows looking onto the bay. Sunlight streamed in across leafy plants and navy-colored tablecloths, glinting off the glassware and silver.

“We thought she was with you,” Sophie said.

“She wasn’t in the room when I woke up.”

The waitress offered me coffee, and I gratefully accepted, finding the cream in a little silver pitcher in the middle of the table.

“Did you check the spa?” Nat asked.

“No. Don’t you think it’s too early?”

“She’s probably working out,” Nat said. “Her wedding dress doesn’t leave any room for error.”

I found myself rethinking my eggs Benedict.

Nat cut into her waffle, releasing a wave of the delicious aroma.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked me.

“Eggs Benedict,” my mouth said before my brain could mount a decent argument against it.

Once made, I was happy with the decision. I could work out at the hotel gym sometime today. It was going to be worth it.

“The woman has willpower,” Sophie said of Brooklyn.

I smiled at that as I sipped my sweetened coffee. It was true.

Thanks to Brooklyn’s insistence, we swam to the far floater and back every time we drank a milkshake at the Lake Washington Beach. I didn’t gain an ounce over summer breaks. To this day, I used swimming to stay in shape.

I should thank her for that.

I’d have plenty of time in the future.

She and James were shopping for houses in Wallingford. The area was close to my apartment in Fremont. After the wedding, we’d be able to see each other even more often than we did now.

While I waited for my breakfast, I shot her a text.

“At least we know she’s not stuck in an elevator this time,” Nat said.

“Are we shopping this morning?” Sophie asked.

“Do you need something?” I glanced at my phone, but there was no symbol to indicate Brooklyn was answering.

“Clothes,” Sophie said. “Maybe some throw pillows or shelves. I could use some shelves for that little corner by the patio door. I bought those two blown-glass sculptures at the pier last month, and I have nowhere to put them.”

“I don’t need anything,” Nat said.

“I respectfully disagree,” Sophie said. “Your studio needs a complete makeover.”

“It’s functional,” Nat said with a sniff.

“It’s criminal,” Sophie said. “All that glorious potential, and you haven’t done a thing with it.”

“I hung some pictures.”

“That I gave you. On hooks that were on the wall from the last tenant. The arrangement doesn’t even make sense.” Sophie turned to me. “We should go on a shopping spree for Nat’s place.”

“We should probably ask Brooklyn,” I said, thinking the weekend was supposed to be all about her. And I’d make it all about her, too, if I could only track her down.

My eggs Benedict arrived, looking outstandingly delicious.

“Brooklyn will go for it. She loves shopping,” Sophie said.