“He carried you to your bedroom but you were asleep?” Rory rolls her eyes as she looks at me. “Generally one tries to remain conscious when seducing a man.”

“Very funny.” I start piling food on my plate. “It was the combination of the massage and the wine.”

Madison nods. “Anyway, sounds like you’re on the right track and were getting cozy with the guy.”

“How’s his business doing?” asks Tish.

“They’re doing fine, but they need to be doing spectacular if he’s ever going to have enough money to fix up his apartment.”

Rory shrugs. “I would think you’d want that to take as long as possible so you’d keep him living at your place.”

“While that is a consideration, I’m not looking forward to trudging across the street in the snow to take a shower this winter. That said...” I turn to Madison. “I need your help.”

“What, you want me to loan him some money?”

“No. I want you to get your friend who is the feature reporter at the New York Post to do a story on scones. His business would really take off.”

She slowly nods. “You’re right about that. And he owes me a favor. I’ll call him today.”

Rory shakes her head. “This could backfire if he moves out. He won’t be around you all the time. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’m betting on absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

***

I’M SIPPING COFFEE at a few minutes till five o’clock in an empty deli when I see a slightly-built thirtyish guy walk across the street from Beckett’s place and head into our deli. He smiles at me as he takes off his scarf. “Hi, I’m looking for A.J.”

“You’re lookin’ at her. What can I do for you?”

He moves forward and extends his hand. “I’m Jim Reynolds, Madison’s friend from the New York Post, doing a story on the scone place across the street.”

I stand up and shake his hand. “Wow, that was fast. Hey, really appreciate you doing this. Did you try one of their scones?”

“Yes, it was delicious. So was the tea. Thankfully, reviewing restaurants is actually part of my job. Anyway, the couple running the store said that you’ve been instrumental in their success so I was hoping to get a little background information from you for my story.”

“I just helped them out a little bit.”

He shakes his head as his blue eyes gleam. “Not what I heard.”

“Well, considering what the guy has been through between his wife and the construction scam, it was the least I could do.”

He furrows his brow. “What he’s been through? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the court ruling about the plane being shot down and how Beckett got conned in the construction scandal.”

“They didn’t mention anything about that. I was interested about you sending customers over, as well as free help.”

“You don’t know about how Beckett’s wife died and the apartment upstairs?”

“No, he didn’t talk about that. Neither did his sister. What’s the story?”

“Easier if I just show you and I gotta lock up anyway.” I head toward the back room. “Let me get a jacket and then we’re gonna take a walk.”

***

THE REPORTER LOOKS around Beckett’s apartment and shakes his head. “So it was actually worse than this?”

I pull out my cell phone and show him the “before” pictures I took as we started cleaning up the place. “It looked like a bomb went off in here.”

His eyes go wide as he looks at the photo. “Damn, what a nightmare. So the poor guy was one of the victims of that construction scam and ended up in this situation right after his wife was declared dead. It sounds like the month from hell.”

“Beckett was devastated. They stole his life savings and he doesn’t have the cash to fix this place. Until his business makes enough money.”

He notices the pile of boxes and furniture in the corner. “He actually lives up here?”

“No. He’s staying in my guest room. I live in my own apartment on the second floor of the deli.” I start to laugh a bit. “It’s actually a symbiotic relationship as I was a victim of the scheme as well. They knocked out my bathroom and never finished it. So I’m trading my guest room for his shower. He sleeps at my place and I get cleaned up over here.”

“Well, this makes the story unique and it’s definitely in the holiday spirit. Competing business owners helping each other.”

“We’re not competing since we don’t sell the same things. It’s apples and oranges.”

“Still, it’s a helluva Christmas story. And I have a feeling when it runs it will end up like the movie.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Trust me, you will. I just have to write it a certain way.” He finishes taking notes and pulls out a camera. “Let me take a few pictures if you don’t think he’ll mind. And email the ones you showed me.”

“It makes for a better story, right? Oh, hey, don’t go back and ask him about his wife. He hasn’t gotten over it even though she died years ago. Having to go through that whole court ruling really did a number on him.”

“Not a problem. I can get all I need about the plane crash back at the newsroom.”

I wander over to a chair to wait while the reporter moves around the apartment. I sit down next to a box that is partially open and can’t help but notice what’s inside.

A wedding album.

Do I want to know?

Ya think?

The album features gold lettering across the top.

Beckett & Adrienne

It occurs to me he’s never even mentioned her name.

Adrienne. Pretty name.

I glance at the reporter who is still wandering around, taking a few photos. He’s not paying attention to me. I remove the album from the box.

My heart goes into overdrive. I feel like I’m stealing something.

But I have to know.

Who was the woman who had his heart?

I slowly open the album.

The first page features a wedding invitation.

The families of Beckett Dash and Adrienne Genovese request the honour of your presence—

Whoa, hold on.

Genovese? He was married to an Italian girl?

I turn the page and what I see makes my jaw drop.

She’s Italian, all right.

And she’s a dead ringer.

For me.

***

THE DECEMBER WIND SMACKS me in the face as I walk a mile toward a restaurant to meet Madison. I’m so freaked out about what I just saw that I don’t trust myself behind the wheel of my car. And maybe walking at a fast pace through 20 degree weather will burn off the anxiety I’m feeling.

I look exactly like his dead wife.

Is he simply looking to replace her with a carbon copy?

Is that the reason he is attracted to me?

Does he look at me as A.J., or Adrienne two-point-oh?

Inquiring minds wanna know.

And maybe Madison can help me.

The warm air of the restaurant greets me but my heart does not downshift. I spot Madison at a corner table and head in her direction. She furrows her brow as I arrive. “My God, A.J., you look frostbitten.”

“I walked.”

“Are you out of your mind? Why the hell did you do that? The wind-chill must be zero.”

I take off my coat and sling it over the back of the chair. “I... needed to burn off some stress. It didn’t work.”

“That’s why God invented treadmills, for people who want to go walking in the middle of December.” She realizes there’s something wrong and takes my hands. “What happened?”

I shake my head and look down. “Your reporter friend from the newspaper showed up to do a story on Beckett’s place, then came over to talk to me and I told him about the situation with his dead wife and the construction scam and how he got taken for his life savings—”

“Stop. You’re stuck in run-on sentence mode. Get to the point, will ya?”

“I was over in his apartment and spotted his wedding album in a box. So I took a look. I was curious about his wife.”

“Let me guess... she was stunning, you’re jealous and think you don’t measure up. Which is ridiculous because you’re beautiful.”

I shake my head. “Oh, I measure up all right. For all the wrong reasons.”

“I don’t understand.”

I take out my cell phone and hand it to her to show her a picture I took of the wedding album. “This was his wife. Look familiar?”

Her eyes bug out. “Oh my God. She could be your twin.”

I slowly nod. “Yep.”

She hands the phone back to me. “I... uh... don’t know what to say. But I can imagine what’s going through that head of yours.”

“Now you know why I needed to walk.” My jaw clenches as I look at the phone.

Madison reaches over, grabs the phone and puts it face down, takes my hands and works her fingers into my tight fists. “Hey. Breathe.” She waves at a waiter. “You need wine.”

“I need an explanation.”

“A.J., you can’t confront him over this.”

“I have to know, Madison. Is he only attracted to me because—”

“Stop it. You’re going to drive yourself crazy. You may look like his wife, and sure, it probably had something to do with his original attraction. But that doesn’t mean it’s the reason he likes you. Hey, remember that day at the shelter when you saw the Russian Blue who looked like Gypsy?”

“What about it?”

“You were immediately attracted to that particular cat, but discovered it had a very different personality.”

“That’s different. We’re talking about cats.”

“And if you ever got a second cat I’ll bet you’d get another Russian Blue. Just like I’d get another tortoiseshell.”

“Maybe so. But I keep thinking about the look he had when he first saw me at the fundraiser. Like he recognized me.”

“And I’m sure you would have the same reaction if you saw someone who looked like a person who’d passed away.”

“Stop using logic on me.”

“Only way to get through that thick Sicilian head of yours. Not all cats are the same, and the same holds true for people. Remember that set of twins you went to school with, how different they were?”

“Fine, you’ve made your point. So what do I do? How will I ever get this out of my head? I have to know why he’s interested in me.”

She looks up at the ceiling for a moment and then back at me. “If you’re not going to let this go, there’s only one person who can answer that for you.”

“You just said I shouldn’t confront Beckett.”

“You shouldn’t. Go talk to his sister.”