“No need. You can take my file. It has everything you need to know.”
“Tell me the bones now, so I don’t go home and start panicking you’ve sent me to a doomsday preppers convention.”
“Way more interesting and upbeat.” The lines of pain around Sophie’s eyes eased for a moment as her lips curved into a small smile. “Quandong is a cute and characterful small town forty-five minutes inland from Byron Bay. It’s gorgeous—think rainforest, sparkling creeks, and a historic town centre. But few tourists make the drive out there. They stay on the beach in Byron because it’s trendy and Instaworthy.”
“Hey, I like Byron. It can’t help its celebrity town status! I bumped into Chris Hemsworth at Hip Coast Coffee once.”
“You know I don’t share your lust for the Hemsworth hunks.” Sophie’s lips twitched. “Moving right along before you melt; Quandong wants its share of the tourist dollar, and they’ve come up with a great idea: they’re going to bill themselves as the gay wedding capital of Australia. The town has the infrastructure already—there’s a heap of accommodation, three wedding celebrants, indoor and outdoor venues, and a gorgeous location.”
“So what’s the festival?” Allie leaned forward. If she were honest, the town sounded appealing. Small and cute, like her friend Leila’s Pomeranian.
“Gay Bells Festival. It’s two days of events with a same-sex marriage theme culminating in a parade, a fake wedding ceremony and afterparty. Most of the arrangements are in place—there are teams of volunteers assigned to each event. Your job is to oversee them all, defuse any tension over differences of opinion, arrange, delegate, and then be on hand during the festival to sort out the last-minute snafus. Simple.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Allie pinched the bridge of her nose where a headache threatened. “I don’t know how to do any of that stuff. You should implant a communication chip in my brain—it will save on the endless phone calls to you.”
“Not constantly.” Her twin’s gaze shifted away toward the window that looked out over the street. “Only when there’s no one around.”
“Why? You’ll have told them I’m standing in for you, right?”
“Not exactly.” Sophie’s fingers twitched on the quilt. “I’m asking you to pretend to be me. Go there and be Sophie Lane. My contract says I can’t delegate my duties unless I have approval in advance.”
The headache was now a reality. “Me pretending to be you must be in breach of that contract. Not to mention deceitful. There’s no way I could pull that off—surely you’ve met some of the organisers already? What if they ask a question that you would know and I don’t?”
“It’s not ideal, I know that. But I can’t think of any other way other than to pull out all together. You’re right; they probably wouldn’t knowingly accept you as a substitute, even though I have good reason.” She heaved a shuddering breath. “I trust you, Allie. You’re anaccountant; sensible and practical is part of the job description—”
“Unemployed accountant,” Allie muttered.
“Through no fault of your own. And this gets you out of Sydney. Gives you a break in a cute town with nice people. Everyone I’ve met there has been lovely.”
“So you’ve met them. They’ll know I’m not you.” She pointed at her own natural blonde hair. “No blue hair. And it’s longer than yours.”
“Tell them you dyed it back to natural and that you’re growing it out. Honestly, I’ve only met a couple of people—I doubt they’ll remember me that well. Other than that, we’re identical. We even sound the same.”
“You’ve got a fleck in your left eye,” Allie started, “and I’m half a centimetre taller, and—”
“You really think anyone will notice those things?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I’m not comfortable with this. The whole pretending-to-be-you part. What if I don’t answer to Sophie? What if they realise I’m not you? Your business will be completely down the gurgler then.” She shook her head. “I’m very afraid I’ll stuff it up for you, Soph. It seems…wrong.”
Sophie’s body rattled with a dry cough, and she clutched her ribs. “Fucking cough. Fucking bruised lungs. Fucking body. Look, if you’re not okay doing this, then don’t worry about it. I’ll go to the agency as you said.”
Allie bit her lip. Would it really be so bad pretending to be her twin? If Sophie was on the other end of the phone, then she was, effectively, doing the job. Allie would just be her mouthpiece. And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t pretended to be each other in the past. Exhibit A: Wallis Simpson. Or Ellis. She hung her head for a moment. “You don’t need to call the agency—I’ll go to Quandong. Just make sure you answer the phone if I call.”
“Of course I will. I’ve got nothing else to do, after all, except lie here and heal. Thank you. I’d hug you if I could move and my lungs weren’t pulped.”
Allie leaned in for a careful hug. Her sister smelled stale, as if she’d aged a few decades. She pressed her nose to the side of Sophie’s neck. “I love you. Of course I’ll do this for you. I’m sorry I didn’t agree immediately.” She released her. “When would I have to go?”
“Ten days’ time, for four days over the weekend. Then the festival is six weeks after that, and you’ll need to be there for two weeks.”
“I can do that.” She hoped. She swallowed away the nerves that threatened even now, and the curl of worry that the idea of deceit brought. “So that’s it? You’ll give me your file to read?”
“You can take it now. It’s on the desk in my office.” Sophie jerked her head toward the sunroom she’d made her home office.
Allie tilted her head. “There’s one thing still bothering me. Who’s going to look after you if I’m not here? You still need help getting to the bathroom and making food, and someone to drive you to doctors and rehab.”
“The insurance company has finally agreed to pay for around-the-clock care. I’ll take them up on it. I’ll be all right.” Her grin was a faint approximation of her smile from before the accident. “It’ll be okay.”
“Then that’s settled. I’ll read the file later. Is Bettina still coming to stay with you tonight?”
