Look Again Part 38

Epilogue.

About a year later, there was another winter snow and another party with wrapped presents, balloons, and crepe streamers crisscrossing the living room, which this time was packed with noisy, sugar-fueled cla.s.smates of Will's. They ran back and forth, played with new toys, ate grocery-store sheet cake, and generally wreaked havoc for his fourth birthday.

"Watch out!" Will shrieked, running with a new laser sword, and Ellen grabbed it from him on the fly.

"Don't run with this."

"Please!"

"No, you'll hurt somebody."

"Aw, Mom!" Will took off after his friend Brett, and Ellen's father came over, his eyes glittering with mischief.

"I'll take that weapon, my lady."

"What for?" Ellen handed it over.

"You'll see. This will do nicely." Her father examined the laser sword, and Barbara joined him in her elegant white pantsuit, a multicolored party hat perched atop her head.

"Ellen, don't let him have that. He'll embarra.s.s us all."

"Too late for that," Ellen said with a smile. She had come to love Barbara, who wisely hadn't tried to replace her mother, because no one could. But somewhere along the line, she had opened her mind to the possibility that if you could love a child no matter how he came to you, then you could also love a mother, no matter how she came to you.

"I need this for my golf lesson." Her father gestured across the crowded room to where Bill Braverman and his pretty date were talking with Connie and Chuck. Her father called to him, "Bill, come here. I need your expertise."

"Coming." Bill strode over in his out-of-place linen jacket, pants, and ta.s.sel loafers, making his way through the kids and ruffling Will's hair.

"Look how fast I go, Bill!" Will called after him.

"Good for you!" Bill entered the dining room, grinning, but her father was all business.

"Show me what you were saying before, about my grip." Her father flipped the sword around so that the point faced the floor, then wrapped his fingers around the hilt, swinging it like a golf club. "You said it was my elbow, right? Not tucked in enough?"

"Not exactly, let me show you." Bill focused on his task, and Barbara moaned.

"Please, guys, anything but golf."

"There is nothing but golf," Bill said, smiling, then turned to Ellen. "By the way, I have those papers for you to sign, for Will's trust. When he's of age, he can decide how much he wants to set aside for Charbonneau House."

"Great, thanks." Ellen smiled, and in the next second she felt an arm encircle her waist and tug her into the kitchen. Before she knew it, Marcelo had taken her into his arms, hugged her gently, and given her one of his best kisses.

"This is a wonderful party," he purred into her ear. "Very romantic."

"It's the Snickers bars. Snickers equal romance." Ellen put her arms around him, stretching out her hands over his shoulder. Her engagement ring sparkled prettily in the sunlight, and she never would have guessed that green would make such a nice backdrop for a diamond. It gave her a new appreciation for photosynthesis.

"You're doing it again, aren't you?" Marcelo asked, chuckling.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at your ring."

"Just kiss me," Ellen said with a smile, but suddenly Will burst into the kitchen and stopped himself before he ran into them.

"Marcelo," he said, looking up, "are you gonna kiss Mommy?"

"If you say it's okay, Will."

"Do it! She likes it!" Will hugged Marcelo around the leg, then ran out of the kitchen, and Ellen smiled.

"Good move, asking permission."

"I know who the boss is." Marcelo kissed her softly and sweetly, then whispered, "Eu te amo."

And for that, Ellen didn't need a translation.

Acknowledgments.

I have always been a fan of "write what you know," and this novel arises from a new sideline of mine: newspaper columnist. More than a year ago, I began writing a weekly column for The Philadelphia Inquirer The Philadelphia Inquirer called "Chick Wit." (Check it out online at my website, called "Chick Wit." (Check it out online at my website, www.scottoline.com.) To stay on point, this novel grew naturally from my observations of the rewards and stresses of a reporter's life-especially in bad economic times-but it's important to head this disclaimer: Look Again Look Again is fiction. is fiction.

I made it up, every word.

The newsroom herein is not The Philadelphia Inquirer The Philadelphia Inquirer's, and the fictional owners of the newspaper, as well as its reporters, staff, and editors, are not anyone at the Inquirer. Inquirer. And though, like every newspaper, And though, like every newspaper, the Inquirer the Inquirer has suffered in this economy, the paper is nevertheless thriving due to the talent, hard work, and business savvy of its amazing publisher, Brian Tierney, with the help of Pulitzer Prize winner and great guy Bill Marimow and marketing whiz Ed Mahlman, as well as my friend and editor Sandy Clark, who has been a warm and loving guide in new terrain. I owe much to her, so thanks, Sandy. has suffered in this economy, the paper is nevertheless thriving due to the talent, hard work, and business savvy of its amazing publisher, Brian Tierney, with the help of Pulitzer Prize winner and great guy Bill Marimow and marketing whiz Ed Mahlman, as well as my friend and editor Sandy Clark, who has been a warm and loving guide in new terrain. I owe much to her, so thanks, Sandy.

I needed to do lots of research for Look Again, Look Again, and I owe a huge debt to the following experts. (Any and all mistakes are mine.) A big hug to brilliant Cheryl Young, Esq., a divorce and family lawyer who is an expert on the intricacies of the law, as well as having an understanding of its very human implications. Big thanks, as always, to Glenn Gilman, Esq., and detective extraordinaire Art Mee. Thank you very much to Dr. John O'Hara of Paoli Hospital, as well as Brad Zerr, who put me in touch with Dr. Glenn Kaplan, head of Pediatric Surgery at Paoli Hospital in Paoli, Pennsylvania, and Tina Saurian, nurse manager of the Maternity Unit. Thanks, too, to Dr. Paul Anisman, chief of Pediatric Cardiology at Nemours/Alfred I. Dupont Hospital for Children in Wilmington, Delaware. Dr. Anisman showed me around and answered all my dumb questions, so I got to see firsthand the wonderful work he and his staff do for babies and children from around the world. and I owe a huge debt to the following experts. (Any and all mistakes are mine.) A big hug to brilliant Cheryl Young, Esq., a divorce and family lawyer who is an expert on the intricacies of the law, as well as having an understanding of its very human implications. Big thanks, as always, to Glenn Gilman, Esq., and detective extraordinaire Art Mee. Thank you very much to Dr. John O'Hara of Paoli Hospital, as well as Brad Zerr, who put me in touch with Dr. Glenn Kaplan, head of Pediatric Surgery at Paoli Hospital in Paoli, Pennsylvania, and Tina Saurian, nurse manager of the Maternity Unit. Thanks, too, to Dr. Paul Anisman, chief of Pediatric Cardiology at Nemours/Alfred I. Dupont Hospital for Children in Wilmington, Delaware. Dr. Anisman showed me around and answered all my dumb questions, so I got to see firsthand the wonderful work he and his staff do for babies and children from around the world.

Thanks, too, to Rosina Weber of Drexel University, as well as dear pal and now Harvard prof. James Cavallaro, Esq., and his great wife, Madja Rodigues. Thanks to Dr. Harvey Weiner, director of Academic and Community Relations at Eagleville, for his expertise and for the good work he does for those suffering from drug and alcohol addiction. Thanks, too, to William Fehr, consultant and pal of Mama Scottoline. Thanks to Barbara Capozzi, Karen Volpe, Joey Stampone, Dr. Meredith Snader, Julia Guest, Frank Ferro, Sandy Claus, Sharon Potts, and Janice Davis.

I owe biggest love and thanks to the brilliant and enthusiastic gang at St. Martin's Press, starting with my editor, Jennifer Enderlin, whose comments on an early draft of Look Again Look Again improved the novel a thousandfold. (Not to mention that she thought of its terrific t.i.tle, after I had been tearing my hair out for weeks.) And ma.s.sive hugs all around to genius CEO John Sargent, ultrachic publisher Sally Richardson, the indomitable Matthew Shear, marketing maven Matt Baldacci, musical sales whiz Jeff Capshew, dynamic duo John Murphy and John Karle in publicity, Courtney Fischer, and Brian h.e.l.ler. I've been overwhelmed by the wonderful energy, talent, and teamwork that St. Martin's has shown me; it's not a publis.h.i.+ng house, it's a powerhouse, and they pull together like crazy for a common goal, namely this book. I couldn't feel happier or luckier to be at SMP, and I am indebted to all of you. Thanks so very much. improved the novel a thousandfold. (Not to mention that she thought of its terrific t.i.tle, after I had been tearing my hair out for weeks.) And ma.s.sive hugs all around to genius CEO John Sargent, ultrachic publisher Sally Richardson, the indomitable Matthew Shear, marketing maven Matt Baldacci, musical sales whiz Jeff Capshew, dynamic duo John Murphy and John Karle in publicity, Courtney Fischer, and Brian h.e.l.ler. I've been overwhelmed by the wonderful energy, talent, and teamwork that St. Martin's has shown me; it's not a publis.h.i.+ng house, it's a powerhouse, and they pull together like crazy for a common goal, namely this book. I couldn't feel happier or luckier to be at SMP, and I am indebted to all of you. Thanks so very much.

Deepest thanks and love to my genius agent and dear friend Molly Friedrich, Amazing Paul Cirone, new mom Jacobia Dahm, and to our newest addition, the lovely and talented Lucy Carson! Welcome, Lucy! This little tribe at the Friedrich Agency has nurtured me for a long, long time, and I feel enveloped in their embrace.

Thanks and big love to my wonderful a.s.sistant, Laura Leonard, who helps me in every single thing I do and is simply indispensable to my life.

And to my family, who are my life.

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Is evil born in us-or is it bred? That is the question at the heart of this penetrating novel from blockbuster New York Times bestselling author Lisa Scottoline Bennie Rosato looks exactly like her identical twin, Alice Connelly, but the darkness in Alice's soul makes them two very different women. Or at least that's what Bennie believes-until she finds herself buried alive at the hands of her twin.

Meanwhile, Alice takes over Bennie's life, impersonating her at work and even seducing her boyfriend in order to escape the deadly mess she has made of her own life. But Alice underestimates Bennie and the evil she has unleashed in her twin's psyche. Soon Bennie, in her determination to stay alive long enough to exact revenge, must face the twisted truth that she is more like Alice than she could have ever imagined...and by the novel's shocking conclusion, Bennie finds herself engaged in a war she cannot win-with herself.

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Chapter One.

Bennie Rosato didn't have anything in common with her identical twin, except their DNA. They shared the same blue eyes, strong cheekbones, and full mouth, but whenever Bennie looked at Alice Connelly, all she could see were their differences. Tonight, Bennie had on a khaki suit, white s.h.i.+rt, and brown pumps, her lawyer uniform. Alice had on tight shorts with a low-cut black top, flaunting cleavage that Bennie didn't even know they had. She made a mental note to look down her s.h.i.+rt, after she got home.

Alice was making dinner and she opened the oven door, releasing the aroma of roasting chicken. "Finally, it's ready."

"Smells great."

"You sound surprised."

"Not at all." Bennie changed the subject. "I like your new house, it's great."

"Yeah, right." Alice turned, carving fork in hand. "Why are you being so condescending?"

"I'm not."

"You are, too. It'll look better when I move all my stuff in, and the rent is low, since the estate can't sell it. That's the only way I could afford it. I don't have your money."

Bennie let it go. "It's good that it came furnished."

"This c.r.a.p? It's dead people furniture." Alice pushed back a smooth strand of hair, yet another difference between them. She blew-dry her hair straight, and her eyeliner was perfect. Bennie let her hair curl naturally and thought ChapStick was makeup.

She sipped her wine, feeling warm. There was no air-conditioning, and the kitchen was small and spare except for k.n.o.bby wooden chairs and a dark wood table. A greenish gla.s.s fixture gave little light, and cracks zigzagged down the plaster like summer lightning. Still the cottage had a rustic charm, especially set in the rolling countryside of southeastern Pennsylvania, an hour or so outside of Philadelphia.

Alice plopped the chicken on the table, then sat down. "Don't panic, it's organic."

"You're eating healthy now, huh?"

"What do you mean? I always did. So, are you dating anybody?" Alice asked.

"No."

"How long's it been since you got laid?"

"Nice talk." Bennie bit into a potato, which tasted good. "If I remembered s.e.x, I'd miss it."

"Whatever happened to that lawyer you lived with? What was his name again?"

"Grady Wells." Bennie felt a pang. She'd get over Grady, any decade now.

"So what happened?"

"Didn't work out." Bennie ate quickly. It had taken forever to get here from Philly, in rush-hour traffic. She wouldn't get home until midnight, which wasn't the way she wanted to end an exhausting week.

"Who'd you see after Grady?"

"n.o.body serious."

"So he's the one that got away?"

Bennie kept her head down, hiding her expression. She couldn't understand how Alice always intuited so much about her. They'd never lived together, even as babies, though Alice claimed to have memories from the womb. Bennie couldn't even remember where she put her car keys.

"So, what's new in your life? Don't give me the official version. I read the website."

"Nothing but work. How about you?"

"I'm seeing a few nice guys, and I'm working out. I even joined agym." Alice made a muscle of her slim arm. "See?"

"Good." Bennie had been an elite rower in her time, but she'd been too busy lately to exercise. "By the way, I hear great things about the job you're doing at PLG. Karen thinks you're terrific."

"Are you keeping tabs on me, now?"

"Of course not. I ran into her, at a benefit."

Alice arched an eyebrow. "Does she have to report to you just because you got me the job?"

"No, but if I see her, we talk. She knows me, like she knows most of the bar a.s.sociation. She has to, we all support the Public Law Group." Bennie felt a headache coming on. She'd lost a motion in court this morning, and it was turning out to be the high point of her day.

"So what did she say, exactly? She loves to gossip."

"It wasn't like that." Bennie sipped her wine, but it didn't help. "All she said was that they like you. They have you doing office administration, payroll, and personnel, in addition to the paralegal work."

"Not anymore. I quit."

"What?" Bennie said, blind-sided. "You quit PLG? When?"

"The other day. It wasn't for me, and the money sucked."

"But you have to start somewhere." Bennie couldn't hide her dismay. She'd stuck her neck out for Alice and now her friends at PLG would be left in the lurch. "They would have promoted you, in time."

"When, ten years?" Alice rolled her eyes. "The work was boring, and the people were so so freaking annoying. I'd rather work with you, at Rosato & a.s.sociates." freaking annoying. I'd rather work with you, at Rosato & a.s.sociates."

Bennie's mouth went dry. She couldn't imagine Alice at her firm. "I don't need a paralegal."