She folded the card and slid it into her purse. Then she hugged herself and rubbed her arms, somehow feeling even colder.

  * * *

  “Hmm?” Ruth looked up at Piper.

  “I said, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She jammed her fork into her salad, causing dressing to splatter her office table. “Just lost in thought. Sorry, what were we talking about?”

  “I asked about the conference. How was it?”

  “Oh. It was fine.”

  “Ruth.” Piper’s tone was tough, but her gaze was gentle. “I’ve known you for fifteen years. I know you’re not okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine—we could eat quietly, or I could go—but I’m here for you. Just don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ruth had resolved long ago not to tell another soul what Caitlyn and Chloe had done, but months had passed without anyone becoming suspicious, and she longed to talk to her friend. “Something happened a few months ago, and I couldn’t tell anybody. I want to talk about it, but I need you to promise you won’t repeat it.”

  “Okay.” Piper nodded.

  “I’m really serious. You might feel angry, or—or you might feel some obligation to the institution to come forward. But whatever your reaction, I need you to take this to your grave.”

  Piper’s glasses magnified her intense eyes. “I promise.”

  “It’s about ‘Chloe.’ The real reason she left.” Ruth hesitated. Once she spoke the words, there was no turning back.

  Piper studied her. “Did something happen between you two? Something romantic?”

  Ruth dropped her fork. “What? Why would you think that?” She hadn’t even planned to tell Piper about the kiss.

  “I suppose it’s the way you used to talk about her—and the way she used to look at you, with so much admiration and concern. I suspected she had a crush at the very least.” Piper spoke carefully, withholding judgment. “When she left abruptly and you wouldn’t talk about it—well, I admit I wondered.”

  Piper was right. Caitlyn had looked at her that way, with care that had seemed genuine, and the feeling had been mutual. That’s what made it hurt so much. “Look, this is bigger than that. Chloe has an identical twin sister named Caitlyn. At the beginning of June, Chloe went to Colorado, and Caitlyn took her place.”

  “What?” Piper leaned forward, her forearms landing on the table next to her lunch. “Are you serious? Chloe wasn’t Chloe?”

  “That’s right.”

  Piper’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God.” Her eyes shifted back and forth, and Ruth could see her mind scrambling to piece it all together. “So much about Chloe didn’t make sense. One day, she was an assistant, and then suddenly she was a data expert and a faculty relations advisor—out of nowhere—because she was literally at different person. I can’t believe it.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “How did you find out? When did you find out?”

  Ruth should have known there would be more questions. “It was the day after the article came out. I took a mental health day, and Caitlyn came to see me at my house.”

  “Hold up.” Piper held up both hands, palms out. “She went to your house? Why? How did she know where you lived?”

  “I had sent her there once on an errand—an emergency—while I was on campus. This was the first time she came over when I was home. We talked, and she…” Fuck it. Piper suspected anyway. “We kissed.” Her lips burned at the memory of their clumsy kiss, half-accidental yet scalding hot. She’d never forget it.

  Piper gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “After it happened, she told me the truth. She told me her name was Caitlyn and that she’d been impersonating her twin since the beginning of June. I kicked her out, of course, and then over the weekend, I fired her. Well, I fired Chloe. You know what I mean.”

  “Why did she do it?” Piper asked.

  “Apparently, it was only supposed to be for a week so that Chloe could get time off to visit her boyfriend. Then Chloe decided to stay in Colorado, and Caitlyn kept coming in. She said it was because she wanted to help me, you know, because she cared so much.” Ruth wanted to say it was bullshit—Caitlyn had never cared for her—but in her heart she knew otherwise. Caitlyn did care, and that made it all so much harder.

  “Wow.” Piper took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “This is a lot to process. Why are you telling me now?”

  “Because I saw her this weekend. She got a job as a researcher at LCC, and I saw her at the conference. She said she missed me, and she gave me her phone number.” The card was tucked in her purse, secure in a side pouch with a zipper.

  Piper was silent for a minute. “Do you miss her?”

  Ruth paused. “Of course. I mean, I miss the person I thought I knew—before I found out she was lying.” She gathered lettuce on her fork and lifted it to her mouth, but she’d lost her appetite.

  “Well. Are you going to call her?” Piper’s tone was studiously neutral.

  Ruth set the fork down without eating. “You think I should?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still wrapping my head around everything you told me. But you seemed to connect with her in more ways than one. And she doesn’t work here anymore.” Piper laughed dryly. “I suppose she never did.”

  “We did connect.” Ruth remembered the day Caitlyn came to her rescue after she had forgotten her pill. It had meant so much to her. “But she was lying to me.”

  “It sounds like she lied so that she could stay. Because she wanted to keep working with you—and to spend time with you.”

  “Perhaps.” Ruth didn’t know what to think of Caitlyn’s motives anymore.

  “You have a lonely job. You’ve told me many times. And the hours are so long, I’m not sure when you’d have time to make friends or to meet someone special.”

  Ruth blushed, regretting that she’d confessed the kiss.

  “I’m saying, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to spend time with someone who appreciates what you have to deal with here, without actually being part of it. Whether it’s romantic or a friendship.”

  “How could I trust her after what she did?” Ruth asked softly. It wasn’t rhetorical. She really wanted to know.

  Piper shrugged. “Well, she told you herself. That’s something. And I imagine she wanted to tell you for a long time before that.”

  She doesn’t understand. “I don’t want to be betrayed again.”

  “Of course you don’t. But no one can promise that. There’s a risk of getting hurt in any relationship, any connection with another human being. But if it happens, you will survive. You have before.”

  “I saved the phone number.” Ruth watched for signs of surprise but saw none. “I was going to throw it out, but…I didn’t.”

  Piper gave her a knowing smile. “Maybe you should at least have a conversation. Get some closure, if nothing else.”

  “Yeah.” Ruth picked up her fork again and stared into her sad little salad. She wished she had ordered something greasy, perhaps with a side of dessert. “I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  Caitlyn walked into the living room with a root beer. “I heard a text. Is that your phone or mine?”

  Chloe didn’t look up from her ice cream. “Yours. I don’t leave my sound on like an old person.”

  Caitlyn searched around for her phone, expecting to be disappointed as usual. It’s not Ruth. Don’t get your hopes up. It was probably a robo-text from the Democratic party or some other form of spam.

  She located her phone on the couch, under a throw pillow, and tapped the screen.

  Hi. This is Ruth. Can we talk?

  “Oh my God.” Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “What?” Chloe mumbled around a spoonful of ice cream. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ruth texted me. She wants to talk.” Caitlyn’s pulse raced, her breathing fast and shallow as the possibilities swirled in her mind. Had something happened involving her stint at Pulaski? Or did Ruth want to talk?

  “Holy shit.” Chloe sat up straight. “Do you think we’re in trouble? Or do you think she really wants to talk?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going up to my room.”

  “No fair!”

  Caitlyn bounded up the stairs, clutching her phone. She closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed. What did talk mean? Should she text back? Or did Ruth want her to call?

  Screw it. The message was ambiguous enough that she felt justified in tapping the call icon. As it rang, she attempted to steady her breathing, with zero luck.

  “Hello.” Ruth’s voice was quiet.

  Caitlyn’s heart thumped at the sound of Ruth’s voice. “Hi. It’s Caitlyn. I got your text.” She was glad Ruth couldn’t see her fidgeting.

  The line was silent, a slight hum of static the only indication that Ruth hadn’t hung up.

  “Is everything okay?” Caitlyn asked. “I mean, did something happen? Or did you want to talk about something specific? Or did you want to talk…to me?” Jesus. Stop babbling.

  “Nothing happened.” Ruth paused. “I’ve just been thinking.”

  “Oh?” Caitlyn resisted the urge to fill the silence with nervous blather. If she wanted to know Ruth’s thoughts, she’d have to let her speak.

  “I was hoping we might talk in person. Somewhere far from campus.”

  Yes! Yes! Yes! “I would love that. Did you have somewhere in mind?”

  “Are you familiar with Anderson Park?” Ruth’s tone remained somewhat formal, as though she were scheduling an interview.

  “Sure.” It was a popular picnic destination outside of town. “But it has been cold all week. Would indoors be better?” Caitlyn didn’t want to risk Ruth cutting their outing short due to unfriendly weather.

  “It’s supposed to be sixty-five degrees on Saturday.”

  “That’s awesome. I mean, I guess it’s not great because of global warming. It’s more like a silver lining—one I would happily trade to refreeze the ice caps, of course—”

  “Caitlyn.” A slight smile crept into Ruth’s voice, washing over Caitlyn like summer rain.

  “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

  “Let’s meet at the entrance by the parking lot—say, Saturday at two?”

  “Perfect.” Just a few days.

  “I’ll see you then.” The call ended.

  Caitlyn flopped back on the bed, dizzy with joy.

  Chapter 22

  Caitlyn unzipped her jacket as she approached the entrance of the park. The air was cool and temperate with only a light breeze ruffling her hair. On the inside, though, her stomach churned, and her heart pounded in anticipation of seeing Ruth again.

  She sat on a bench near the entrance and crossed her legs. For ten minutes, she checked her phone and then put it back, only to pull it out again, over and over.

  At last, Ruth appeared on the other side of the parking lot. She wore casual slacks and a snug sweatshirt with University of Pennsylvania embroidered on the lapel. Her hair was soft and free of visible product, the way Caitlyn liked it. She looked comfortable, although as she got closer Caitlyn could see the tension in her face.

  She’s nervous too. Caitlyn offered a shy wave.

  Ruth stopped in front of her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Caitlyn stood. “It’s really good to see you.”

  Ruth nodded but didn’t smile. She seemed guarded, as if she wanted to be friendly but was holding back.

  It took a lot for her to come here today. Caitlyn prayed Ruth wouldn’t regret it.

  “There’s a coffee bar inside the field house,” Ruth said. “I thought we could get drinks.”

  “Sounds great.” There was no roadmap for their situation, no established ritual for reconciliation after two people connected only to discover one was impersonating her twin. They had to make it up. First, order coffee.

  Caitlyn followed Ruth to the field house, where they joined the short line for the coffee bar.

  “So what do you really drink? Did you even like whipped drinks?” Ruth asked the question without malice, but with an unmistakable edge.

  A fresh wave of guilt tumbled through Caitlyn. “They’re okay. But I usually drink lattes or plain coffee with milk.”

  “Hmm.” When Ruth reached the counter, she ordered two lattes.

  Caitlyn pulled cash out of her purse, but Ruth brushed it away. “I’ve got this.”

  “Thanks.” She wanted to say, I’ll get the next one, but it would have been presumptuous. Ruth hadn’t promised an ongoing relationship of any kind, just a talk.

  They walked outside with their lattes and scanned the park. Ruth pointed to a cluster of vacant picnic tables. “We could sit over there.”

  “Sure.” Caitlyn shivered at the memory of the last conversation they’d had at a picnic table. This one couldn’t be any worse.

  Fallen leaves cluttered the table. Ruth brushed them away, and they sat across from each other with their lattes. The park was silent except for the faint swirl of voices in the distance and the rustle of wind through the trees. There was nothing left to do but talk.

  Ruth looked her over. “Calm down.”

  “Hmm? Oh.” Caitlyn realized she’d been scratching her arms through her jacket. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  “So it’s you, not Chloe, who has anxiety?”

  “Yes.” How could Ruth think Caitlyn would lie about something so fundamental to their connection? Because I’m a liar. All she could do was tell the truth. “Everything I said about my mental health was true. When I dropped that bottle of medication, it had my real name on the label—that’s why I was so scared that you saw it.”

  “I see.” Ruth took a slow, deliberate sip of her latte. “I’d think that impersonating your twin would cause you a great deal of anxiety. Surely you knew what the consequences would be if you were caught.”

  “Yes.” Caitlyn squirmed at the visceral memory of her first moments at Pulaski. “Honestly, I was a wreck.”

  “So why?” Ruth’s eyes cut into her like lasers. “You told me you did it so Chloe could keep her job—a job she cared so little about that she missed work constantly and then skipped town. There has to be more to it. Why was it worth the risk?”

  “It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try.” Caitlyn wrapped her hands around her latte, absorbing the warmth with her palms. “Chloe has a rough history when it comes to romance. She falls hard and fast, and when it all blows up, our mom has to pick up the pieces. We were both worried about her giving up her income for some guy she’d only met online. Chloe came up with this crazy idea for me to take her place, and, of course, I refused at first. Until eventually, I gave in.”

  Ruth rubbed her chin with her thumb. “I suppose it makes sense. You didn’t want your twin to be in a vulnerable situation. But I still don’t know how she talked you into it. Aside from this twin switch madness, you strike me as a responsible person. Not one to take foolish risks.”

  “I’m not, but…” Caitlyn twisted a strand of hair around her finger, trying to decide how much to reveal. She didn’t want to explain her entire life story and scarred psyche, but Ruth deserved a full explanation. “My dad left when I was eight, and we all took it hard. Especially my mom.”

  Ruth’s expression softened. “After you told me your real name, I looked up your profile from grad school. You studied the impact of twins on divorce rates?”

  Startled, Caitlyn straightened on the hard bench. Ruth looked me up? “Yes. I didn’t tell many people in grad school that I had a twin, because I didn’t want them to make assumptions about why I chose my topic.”

  “It’s none of my business,” Ruth said carefully, “but it sounds like you may have blamed yourself.”

  Caitlyn bent forward and hugged her stomach. “I don’t blame myself or Chloe. I mean, that’s the first thing they tell you in therapy. Your parents’ divorce isn’t your fault. We couldn’t help being twins or that we were a handful from a young age. But my parents were under a lot of stress before the split—financial and otherwise.”

  “Plenty of parents of twins stay together, and parents of singletons divorce all the time. You can’t know for sure that it was the reason.”

  “I know. But when we were kids, it was harder to understand. Chloe and I coped in different ways. She acted out, getting into various scrapes and minor trouble. And I started doing well in school—really well. Every time I got an A, it was like I was worth something. My teachers praised me, and my mom was proud. I lived for that feeling, but it never lasted. Ten seconds later, I’d be worried about the next assignment. And when I didn’t do well on something, I took it hard. I felt worthless. What I’m saying is that I grew up with a very strong drive to please authority figures. My teachers, my bosses. My advisor. And my mom.” Caitlyn released a heavy sigh. “Then I struck out on the job market, and I had to move back home.”

  “You felt like you let her down?” Ruth asked gently.

  “Yeah, I did. Chloe was already living at home again, and after all of that school, I ended up in the same situation. When my mom asked me to help Chloe, it pushed me over the edge, and I said yes.” She searched Ruth’s gaze for a reaction, hoping to see some glimmer of understanding.

  Vulnerability flickered in Ruth’s eyes. “I admit it makes me feel better to know that you didn’t fool me for fun—or the paycheck.”

  “No! God, no.” Caitlyn shook her head so hard, her neck cracked. “It wasn’t about the money at all. I was in a very low place.”

  “You’re a stats person. I’m sure you’ve seen the data. The job market is abysmal right now. Many talented scholars never find a full-time position.”

  “I know. But for seven years, I had this one goal—a tenure-track position. When it didn’t happen, I couldn’t cope. I felt like a failure.”