Twelve Nights Read Online Free PDF Page B

“We’ll stop and get you done on the
way home to Dad’s.”
    “Time to make over the ugly twin, Angela?” Aggie asked.
    “No, silly. You’re gorgeous, of course. ’Cause if you
weren’t, how could I be?”
    “I might have known.”
    “Aggie, do you remember what we used to do, when we fooled
people about who was who?”
    “Sure, back when we were ten or so.”
    “Let’s do it again.” Angela’s voice sounded suspiciously
eager.
    “Why?” Aggie asked bluntly.
    Her sister shrugged. “Just for fun. My treat.”
    “Boo,” Aggie blurted, “I don’t really want to look like
you.”
    Angela stopped in the middle of the corridor and hurrying
passengers split around them like a wave. She dropped her bag and grabbed
Aggie’s shoulders with both hands.
    “Aggie,” Angela shook her sister gently. “Maybe I want to
look like you this time.”
    Aggie’s eyes teared. “Don’t, Angela. Don’t mess with my
head.”
    Angela released Aggie and picked up her bag.
    “I’m not messing with you,” she protested, her voice gruff.
“I want a new look, okay?”
    When they got to the car, Angela insisted that Aggie drive.
She explained that she hadn’t been behind the wheel since she moved to New
York. Even the straight highway to Auburn made her nervous. As they headed out
of Atlanta, Angela made her sister stop at Old National Square Shopping Center.
    “One hour,” she commanded. “Indulge me for one hour.”
    “Okay,” Aggie agreed as she pulled into the parking lot
maze.
    “Gayfer’s,” Angela directed, and Aggie pulled into a spot
near the upscale store. First stop was a hair salon next to the mall entrance
to the store.
    “Get your hair however you like,” Angela offered.
    “I intend to.” Aggie lifted an eyebrow and frowned. What was
wrong with her sister?
    “I’m paying.” Angela added.
    “Go right ahead.”
    Once Aggie was seated in a salon chair and halfway to a
fresh cut, Angela dropped into the seat next to hers.
    “Do my hair exactly the same,” she told her stylist.
“Exactly.”
    The two stylists looked at each other and at the twins.
    “You’re models, right?” the woman behind asked. “You’re in
Atlanta for a photo shoot or something.”
    “No,” Aggie began.
    “Yes,” Angela interrupted. “Watch for the ads in Vogue in
about five months.”
    Aggie looked at her sister’s hand and sure enough her baby
finger was crooked up in a C, their childhood symbol of complicity. A sense
memory of Angela’s fun stole over her and she relaxed back into the seat with a
smile. Aggie watched as the stylist lopped off Angela’s careful curls. Her own
shag shortened to a pixie cut of chin length. She liked it better on Angela than
she did on herself, but looking at them both in the mirror she had to admit
that in reality they were identical.
    If the young women had been glanced at before in the
airport, now the looks became stares. A little girl stopped in front of them
and cried, “Look, Mommy! Big twins!” Angela laughed and patted the child on the
head. Aggie turned her head and hurried past.
    “I don’t like this attention,” she whispered fiercely to her
sister.
    “We deserve it, Boo,” Angela lifted her chin. “Stand up
straight and smile.”
    In the department store, two clerks rushed to help them when
they entered women’s clothing.
    “Are you going to tell me to pick whatever I like?” Aggie
taunted.
    “Maybe,” Angela laughed, seemingly immune to sarcasm. “Show
me what you would choose.”
    “I don’t see why we need identical outfits.”
    “For fun!” Angela explained. “I want to see if we can still
fool Dad.”
    “You’re not planning to do something mean to Mary, are you?”
    “No,” Angela insisted. “Just pick.”
    They walked out of the store thirty minutes later with
armloads of bags. Two pairs of size eight dark gray wool pants, two long light
gray sweaters with knitted flowers across the shoulders and black pumps with a
compromise one and a