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“This is a problem.”
Megan lifted the jeans and handed them, along with the top to Kalissa. “It’s not your problem.”
“It’s Darci’s problem.” Kalissa tried to work her way through the ethics of the situation. “I at least owe her something for being my sister. Don’t I?”
“So, tell her.”
“That I’m going on a date?”
“That you exist. Give her a heads up. That’ll keep the reporters from blindsiding her with it.”
“I could call her,” said Kalissa. “Or drop her an e-mail.” An e-mail sounded a lot less intimidating.
“She’ll think you’re a wing-nut.”
“Maybe. Probably. I could send her a photo.”
“She’ll assume it’s her, or that it’s photoshopped like you did.”
Kalissa thought it through. “I could hold up today’s newspaper, so she’ll know that it’s current.”
“That would be a great way to meet her security team or maybe the Chicago Police.”
“I’ll phone her,” said Kalissa, deciding it was the best option. “Do you suppose our voices are alike? Would she recognize it?”
“Just stop by her office,” said Megan. “Colborn Aerospace has its own building down by the river. There’s a huge sign.”
“How do you know this?”
“I internet searched her, of course. Didn’t you?”
“No. Not really. Okay, maybe a little bit. I found out she has the same birthday as me.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
“Just drop by her office,” Kalissa pondered out loud. “Say, hi there. I’m your twin. If anyone asks you why you were on a date at the Navy Pier tomorrow, you can let them know it was me.”
Megan chuckled. “Try on the jeans first. But, yeah, that’s basically it.”
“I could be in and out in five minutes.”
“With the jeans?”
“With Darci.” Kalissa couldn’t quite shake the fear that any contact would be an intrusion on Darci’s life. “If she doesn’t want to talk. If she’s too busy. I’m in, I’m out, she’s warned, we’re done.”
“I’m guessing she might have a few questions for you.”
Kalissa decided it was the best course of action. What Darci did with the information was entirely up to her. But it was colossally unfair to risk the press running with the story before Darci, and especially Shane, knew the truth.
* * *
“Shane Colborn is on line three for you,” Emma Thatcher, the Ellis Aviation receptionist, announced through the inter-office phone line.
Riley moved the receiver from his ear and stared at it for a moment.
“Riley?” Emma’s voice came through the tiny speaker.
“Are you sure?” he asked her.
“He claims to be Shane Colborn.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“You want me to ask?”
“No. That’s fine. I’ll take it. Thanks, Emma.”
“No problem.”
Riley pulled his thoughts together, waiting a beat before pressing the blinking button. “Riley Ellis here.”
“This is Shane Colborn.”
“What can I do for you?” It was the first time Riley had spoken to his half-brother in more than a decade. They’d exchanged approximately three sentences their entire lives. And not one of them meaningful. Beyond that single moment when they were both teenagers, Shane ignored him. It was clear Shane preferred to live in denial.
“I understand you’ve put in a bid with Askeland Airlines.”
“Where did you get that information?” Riley had no intention of either confirming or denying it.
“From Richard Price, the VP of purchasing.” There was an edge of annoyance in Shane’s tone. “He’s hinting that your price is surprisingly low.”
“You expect me to discuss my price with you? You expect me to discuss anything with you about a bid that may or may not exist? You have heard of collusion, right?”
The annoyance in Shane’s tone ramped up. “I’m not asking you to collude.”
“Good.”
“This is a courtesy call.”
Riley scoffed out a cold laugh. “So far, this seems real courteous, Colborn.”
Shane’s tone was a growl. “There are also laws against predatory pricing.”
“Those laws are there to protect small companies. You’re a billion dollar conglomerate. I’m not even a tenth of that.”
“The law goes both ways.”
“You’d be laughed out of court.” Not that Riley was doing anything remotely illegal.
“You could be laughed into a jail cell.”
“We’re leaner than Colborn. That’s just the way it is.”
“We have a reputation for excellence.”
“That and a tell-all book from your former mistress accusing you of collusion and corporate espionage. Are you spying on Ellis Aviation?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Marrying a pretty wife can’t fix everything.”
Shane’s tone went hard. “Leave my wife out of this.”
An image of Kalissa appeared in Riley’s head, and guilt immediately slammed into him. Shane was right. This had nothing to do with Darci.
“You’re right,” he said. “I apologize.”
It took Shane a moment to respond. “Everywhere I look, everywhere I turn, you seem to show up.”
“We’re in the same business,” said Riley, wondering if Shane would finally acknowledge their family relationship. He lobbed him an opening. “It must be in the genes.”
Again, there was a moment of silence. “Is that a crack?”
“Take it however you want.”
“Inheriting something is only the first step. The place doesn’t run itself.”
“Inheriting is a big step,” said Riley. He’d have been happy to inherit a dollar. He’d have been happy if Dalton had even once looked him in the eyes.
“I’ve been on my own for over six years.” Shane sucked in an audible breath. “Forget it. I don’t give a damn what you think.”
“And I don’t give a damn what you think. I bid the contracts I see fit. I’ve been independent since day one, and I’m planning to stay that way.”
“This is strictly business?” asked Shane.
“Strictly business,” said Riley.
“It feels.” There was a searching tone to Shane’s voice, and he paused again.
Riley hated that a mere phone call could unsettle him like this. He hated himself for hoping that Shane would acknowledge him. He’d been waiting for scraps from the Colborn table his entire life. He needed it to stop.
“Is that it?” he asked, anger crackling his tone.
“That’s it,” said Shane.
Riley slammed down the phone.
Three (#ulink_8b452c31-d96e-5c67-99a3-53c0607abbe6)
In the lobby of the Colborn Aerospace building, Kalissa lost her nerve. She felt suddenly vulnerable in the cavernous space, phones ringing, dozens of footfalls echoing against the marble floor, men in expensive suits, women in tailored black and white. Halfway to the long, curved reception counter, she turned back.
“Mrs. Colborn,” a woman approached her in a steel gray skirt and matching jacket. It was brightened by a teal blouse. “Did you get a chance to read the food services report?”
“I’m sorry,” said Kalissa, her voice coming out raspy from her tight throat.
“What was that?” the woman asked. When Kalissa didn’t respond, she kept on talking. “I can ride up with you on the elevator.”
“Mrs. Colborn?” called another voice, a man this time.
The first woman put a hand on Kalissa’s back, turning her. “Don’t look up. Just keep walking and listening to me. Pretend I’m saying something absolutely riveting.”
“Uh, what?” Kalissa glanced toward the voice.
“Don’t look,” the woman warned. She gave a nod to a security guard who moved forward to meet the man.
Another security guard held an elevator for them.
“Thank you, Bernie,” said the woman as they stepped inside.
Kalissa nodded to the guard named Bernie, and he reached around to press the button for the twenty-first floor. Then he stood in front of the door until it closed. Kalissa guessed her sister and her husband didn’t cram into the elevator with a dozen other people.
Her nerves ramped up even further.
“The food services report?” the woman asked.
“I’m sorry,” Kalissa repeated, not knowing where else to go with the question. She didn’t want to tell some stranger she was Darci’s twin before she told Darci herself. She was beginning to realize how poorly she’d thought this through.
“Not to worry,” said the woman. “Give me a call when you get to it. It’s all good news. The international stations are getting rave reviews, and we’ve had inquiries from two national food magazines about interviews. Can I tell them you’ll be available?”
“Can I, uh, get back to you?” Kalissa asked weakly.
The woman peered at her. “Are you okay?”
“Just fine.”
“You’re not getting that flu are you?”
“I do have a bit of a headache,” Kalissa replied honestly.
The elevator came to a halt, pinging at the twenty-first floor. The doors slid smoothly open.
Kalissa stepped out, not sure whether to go left or right. There was a small reception desk in the foyer, but she didn’t want to ask which way it was to her office.
“Mrs. Colborn?” A woman came worriedly to her feet from behind the reception desk. She glanced down a hallway behind her, then she looked at Kalissa again. “I didn’t see you leave.”
Kalissa breathed a sigh of relief. At least she knew which direction to go.
“Your clothes,” said the woman, bustling out from behind the desk. “Did something happen to the Farsen Kalick jacket? Do you need me to call the cleaners?”
