Living Lies

By Eleanor Cocreham

Lani destroys Laurie's happiness in a night of reckless abandon, which changes their lives forever. Suffering the consequences, Lani flees to Italy and Laurie moves to New York.

Conflicts and challenges face the mirror image twins as Lani becomes involved with a vineyard owner and Laurie learns her lover is Mafia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613092705

Book preview

Prologue

Baton Rouge

Lani Wanamaker went through men like babies do diapers for the simple reason they were full of crap.

Called stunningly beautiful by the press, the lanky supermodel totally lacked common sense, a fact she was never more conscious of than what happened prior to her brother Jaime’s wedding festivities. Even knowing the time and place was unwise, she decided the prenuptial gathering might be her only chance to accost Tosh Wilkes, Jaime’s best friend. To get Tosh alone, she beckoned to him just as he and Jaime were about to leave their outside table on the rooftop terrace.

Tosh despised her, and she saw him frown and try to ignore her as she waited just inside the entrance to the Tsunami Bar. She persisted, continuing to gesture. With much reluctance, he came inside. His brown eyes had narrowed, and his teeth were clenched when he came toward her. Determined that he did not escape before she could reveal her condition, she summoned her nerve, grabbed his arm and moved closer. I’m pregnant.

He recoiled at her murmured words. What’s it to me?

She tightened her grip as disgust raced across his stern, face. Everything. It’s yours, mister, and I don’t like it any better than you do.

Jerking loose, he lashed out, You expect me to believe I’m the only one you’ve ambushed. Get lost, whore!

His harsh, venomous words turned the heads of several people standing at the bar. They stared at her and then followed Tosh’s long strides as he stalked back outside.

Lani winced, her face reddening as she glanced through the windows and realized her brother had witnessed the angry confrontation. Even with the sun in his eyes, Jaime would know which sister she was as her twin, Laurie, seldom went to bars alone and never, ever, created scenes.

Damn. Jaimie was sure to question the intensity of emotions triggering the animosity exploding between her and his buddy. Later at his wedding reception, she’d be forced to explain the heated exchange. Then maybe not. Tosh may have provided an excuse plausible enough to satisfy Jaime...the two were leaving the terrace.

One

Italy

Alitalia Airline’s overnight flight from John F. Kennedy approached Rome. The buzz of murmured voices and stirring of passengers brought Lani out of her reverie. She shook off her depressing thoughts of the past months. She’d flown with her older sister Emily and her husband Mike to their California home following Jaime’s May wedding in Baton Rouge. If the two wondered why she did not return to Paris, or go to New York as her twin had done, they didn’t ask. Nor did Emily question her preference for the guest house instead of occupying one of the beautiful corner suites Mike had created from Windcliff’s hodge-podge of upstairs rooms.

The choice, of course, was necessary to conceal the wretched morning sickness plaguing her, and avoid having her family learn she was taking a sudden leave from modeling.

Donning large sunglasses, and winding her long hair around her head beneath a broad-brimmed hat, she gathered her carry-on bags the moment the plane landed. Being a celebrity did have its perks, she mused, quickly departing the first class section ahead of the other passengers.

Scurrying through Da Vinci airport to customs, she was processed rapidly by the agent who welcomed her to the city, then connected with the driver she’d hired to collect her luggage and whisk her from the airport. With her head down and taking long strides, she managed to escape the paparazzi lounging near the exits.

Motor bikes zipped among the automobiles on Rome’s heavily trafficked thoroughfares. Watching riders, both men and women, make their way through the crowded city on their way to work, Lani frowned and stroked her expanded waist. Oh, to have the freedom to travel in such a fun way. Filled with sudden envy, she wondered how long it would be before she could zoom around the city on two wheels again.

Soon delivered to the Hotel D' Inghilterra in the fashion district near the Spanish Steps, she responded to the warm greetings from the manager, registered, and took the small elevator to a second floor room. After a long relaxing bath, she pulled on a terry robe, reached for the package of crackers to head off the constant, annoying nausea and called the desk receptionist with instructions not to be disturbed.

She slept until late afternoon and then called the hotel’s restaurant and asked for the sommelier. "Ciao, Emilio. Lani Wanamaker. Come stai?"

"Benvenuti! I am doing very good, he answered in English. It is good to hear you are back in Rome. How may I be of help?"

Do you have wines from the estate of Castello Banfi?

Yes, very nice ones, he answered. Do you have a preference?

No.

How many guests are you expecting?

No guests. They’re for me. I’m on a wine jaunt and I understand the Banfi wineries in the Tuscany region have had much success.

They have indeed. I will send up a few nice selections, but I think you will enjoy the Centine 2009 the most. ‘It is a blend of sangiovese, cabernet sauvignon and merlot, with the elegance of burgundy, the strength of bordeaux and the charm of the historic Ponte Vecchio.’

"Doing promotional work now, Emilio?"

He laughed. No, it is a quote from a wine article I read recently expressing the properties far better than I can. Do you intend to become a wine maker?

I understand Chianti wines come from an area near some property I am interested in, and I’m trying to find out what kind of grapes might grow there.

They are Sangiovese, but if you think of getting into the wine business, I suggest you hire someone very familiar with viticulture and enological reports in your area before you invest any funds.

I intend to once I make my decision.

Then I wish you much success, Miss Wanamaker.

Thank you. I’m not really sure of anything at the moment, but if I do get involved, I doubt I’ll produce anything meriting the glowing description you just gave for the Banfi.

Put your portrait on the label, and the wines will be a huge success.

Lani smiled. I think not. I am completely exhausted from living in the fish bowl, Emilio. And as I am only in Rome overnight, may I ask you not to mention to anyone I am here, or that I might become a land owner? It is most important the paparazzi not become aware of my presence. You understand?

Certainly. You can count on my discretion. However, before you depart the country, please tell me how you enjoyed the wines.

I’ll send word as soon as I’ve had a chance to sample them.

Two hours later, Lani took a cab to A’Bruzzi, a restaurant in a downtown district seldom visited by tourists as only licensed drivers or residents were allowed to drive on Via Del Vaccaro.

Several sidewalk tables lined the entrance of the old and utterly charming narrow rooms with banquet seating, oozing with a calming ambiance she sorely needed. She liked dining there as the intimate restaurant’s kitchen produced the absolutely best carbonara in Rome and the tables were often frequented by the priests from the North American College who showed little interest in her.

Given excellent care of by the proprietor, she lingered over the meal. Lani thought of other visits to Rome and having to forego such delicious foods for the sake of maintaining a model-thin body. No more. She had an excuse now...not a welcomed one, but nevertheless, an opportunity to enjoy every mouthful of pasta for the next months.

LEAVING ROME AFTER breakfast the following morning, Lani again gave special thanks to her modeling agency. The previous year she had been chosen by the Maserati Company to participate in their premier showing of the new GranCabrio in Frankfort. The amazing four-seat convertible she couldn’t resist ordering was delivered to the hotel that morning. She hadn’t thought to include the special luggage designed to fit the narrow trunk space, however, and had to seek the bellmen’s help to store her baggage and bottles of wine.

Hungry again by early afternoon, she stopped for lunch at a place called Ceilla on the outskirts of the city. She stretched and chose an outside table to dine al fresco beneath vine-covered trellises dripping with purple wisteria blossoms. Judging the food to be excellent by the aromas coming from inside, and unable to resist, she succumbed to another dish of pasta swimming in herbed white sauce. She patted her stomach and grimaced. Although she was tall and could probably carry the baby longer than most without showing, she couldn’t continue to gorge on such foods.

The heat of the day had subsided by the time she finished her meal. Still unrecognized despite the interest and comments her sleek, black car generated, she lowered the roof, admiring the ease of it. But then everything about the convertible pleased her, including the cushioned leather seats and the way the powerful auto hugged the roadbed of Autostrada A-1. Managing to stay within the speed limit to avoid a ticket, she began her search for the road to Lucignano, her destination.

Once she arrived in the village located between Arezzo and Siena built around the hilltop, she had difficulty finding the villa and stopped for directions more than once. Darkness was fast closing in when she finally located it with the help of several old men sitting on a bench in a piazza who declared even a hound dog would have trouble finding such an isolated place.

Fortunately, the estate’s iron gates were open. She drove the quarter mile to the house, parked on a gravel path at the side of the tall structure, raised the auto’s top, and removed the small tote holding only what she would need for the night. After locating the keys under the designated flower box, she pushed aside the thick strands of heavy brown cord hanging over the entrance, momentarily pondering the reason for the yarn-like covering as she unlocked the solid wood door. Bugs? Mosquitos? Snakes? Ugh.

Shrugging, she entered the kitchen through the small pantry and glanced up at the impressive arched brick ceiling. She spied bread and cheese left covered on the counter, and noted that the wall lamps lighting the room also illuminated the lower hallway floored in red tile. From the kitchen doorway, she peered down the long span apparently used for dining, which ran the length of the house from front door to back. Skirting the centered grouping of a narrow table and eight chairs, she paused midway in the hall to briefly admire a side staircase almost ten feet wide leading to two upper floors. The house was so much larger than she expected, and she hadn’t a clue what she would do with so much space.

Taking in the two large bedrooms cornering the end of the hall, she stared at the beige faux-stucco walls topped with elaborate scrolled borders painted to mimic crown molding. Choosing the room with the largest bed made with fresh linens, she cranked open the shutters over the tall windows, threw her things on a high window seat covering the steam radiators and eyed the meager furnishings. Other than bedside tables, there was a lone wooden chair, a small closet, and an armoire which wouldn’t hold half of her clothes.

She drew a relieved breath at the new oversized towels hanging on racks in the adjoining bath, furnished no doubt by the real estate agent who had approached her about investing in a house with limitless possibilities. She knew absolutely nothing about construction and decorating, but she vowed if she did decide to buy this eyesore, painting those boring beige walls with a pop of color would be her first priority.

Too tired to do anything more than ward off the incessant bouts of nausea, she returned to the kitchen, cut thick slices of both bread and cheese, located a bottle of cold fizzy water in the refrigerator and took them back to the bedroom to soothe her queasy stomach. Soon afterwards she stripped, crawled between the sheets, and fell asleep.

A WEEK LATER, LANI took her coffee out to the front terrace overlooking the spent vines in the neglected vineyards of her new home. She lit a cigarette, unwound her long wet braid to air dry and raised her face to the sun. Making her home in a remote Tuscan villa was certainly different than standing under hot lights and parading down runways as she’d done for the last ten years. Exploring the area over the past days, the isolation of the old house and grounds had come as a huge disappointment as she already began to miss the bright lights and partying people with whom she shared her life.

Staring at the rose haze covering the valley and the towering cypress trees in the distance like those lining the long drive, she breathed in the country air, wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into in this God-forsaken place. Stuck until she could get her body back in shape for the camera, she had to grin. Wouldn’t the paparazzi just love seeing her knocked up?

Nor could the pregnancy have come at a worse time. Early in their careers, Emily had once warned both the twins that young talent constantly converged on the modeling scene. The job demanded much harder work from older women, if at nearing thirty, they wanted to remain in the news and appear on magazine covers. However, divulging her whereabouts to her friends or family was not an option for Lani. Her pregnancy must remain a secret. The only person who knew her location was the agent she’d sworn to secrecy with strict orders not to be contacted short of the death of a parent. Absolutely no one must learn of her condition. And most certainly not her twin.

Draining her coffee cup as she stared at the countryside, Lani thought again of Emily, the supermodel whose life she tried to emulate when she conned her twin into entering the modeling world with her. Laurie had gone along with the plans because it was what Laurie did. Yet, despite their success, Laurie left the profession because of Lani’s deception, to work elsewhere while she, just as Emily once had, was running from a bad situation.

Lani closed her eyes and shook her head. Emily’s flight had ended successfully, whereas this retreat to Tuscany and the name she was calling herself had caused an irreversible loss. Nor was there any going back. Her other half, her mirror image, who had tried to curtail her wild side, was lost to her.

Running her fingers through the long wet strands, Lani remembered how Emily had changed her lifestyle to make a fresh start. She would do the same. Rising, snubbing out her cigarette, she went back inside the house to look for Rosa and Carlos, the couple hired by the realtor to take care of the villa. The sound of their voices drew her upstairs where Carlos was cleaning windows and Rosa was airing beds. They smiled when they saw her and stopped what they were doing, waiting for her to speak.

Carlos, have you had any luck finding someone to restore the vineyards?

He glanced at his wife then nodded. He will be here soon, I think.

Lani waited for something more, but he turned away and went back to the windows.

I’d really like to get started on them. Shall I ask around town for workers?

Carlos shook his head. Please. Not yet.

Talking to the man was like pulling teeth. Lani changed the subject. Do we have any scissors in the house?

In the kitchen, Rosa said.

Lani grimaced. Kitchen shears weren’t what she had in mind but they would have to do. Would you bring them to my room?

Carlos tucked his cleaning cloth in his pocket, I will get them.

No, Lani protested. I need Rosa’s help.

She hurried to her room downstairs and slipped out of her robe and into khaki slacks and a long red tunic before Rosa arrived. The woman might not yet be aware of her condition, but she intended to hide the pregnancy until the expanding bump became too noticeable.

Rosa appeared with the scissors and Lani called her into the bathroom. Seated at a dressing table in front of a mirror, Lani tossed her head, and the black, waist length hair photographers loved rippled down her back. She grabbed a handful and pulled it over her shoulder eyeing its length. She held the strands two inches under her chin, and gestured to Rosa. Here, cut.

Rosa gasped. Oh no, I cannot!

Don’t worry, it will be okay. Who’s to care?

But why, Miss Lane? Your hair is so beautiful.

And needs to be cut, Rosa. I told you I came here to rest. This, she said, gesturing to its length, is way too much trouble.

I guess, but I could shampoo it for you, Rosa mumbled as she tightened her lips and began to cut. An hour later, Rosa gathered up the cut hair into a long twist and tied bits of threads around each end. To make a nice braid.

Whatever, Lani said, swinging her head. She smiled at Rosa and patted her shoulder. I like it. You did a great job. I’m off to the bank and some sightseeing. Can I get anything for you?

Rosa shook her head and went back upstairs, probably to tell her husband what she’d done.

Catching sight of the kitchen clock, Lani hurried outside to her car thinking of all she needed to do. First on her list was a visit to Lucignano’s bank to open an account under her new name. Hopefully no one in the village would associate Lane Archer, which would take some getting used to, with Lani Wanamaker. Then she needed to locate a doctor who would not question her too closely about the pregnancy, and perhaps ask around about experienced men to restore her vineyards. A tall order, she knew, especially since Laurie usually made arrangements for anything they needed. The luxury had ended; she was on her own. If Carlos’ man didn’t show up soon, she would find another. She did not enjoy being idle.

For the first time since graduating boarding school, Lani left the house wearing only lip gloss. The total lack of makeup, the shaggy hair and canvas sneakers sent a rush of freedom through her as she sped down the drive.

Two

New York City

Leaving the office she shared with two other women, Laurie turned out the lights, closed the door and took the elevator thirty floors to the lobby of Wanamaker, Inc. She smiled at the security guard waiting to lock up. I’m sorry I kept you waiting again, Dave.

You aren’t the last, Miss Wanamaker. Thirty-five is still occupied.

My father?

No’m. More’n likely Mr. Dan. Senior didn’t come back after lunch.

Like most Fridays, Laurie said.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. He held open the glass door and pulled out his whistle. Get you a cab?

No. It’s so nice out tonight, I think I’ll walk.

Be careful then and have a good weekend.

Thanks. You too.

Laurie felt the doorman watching her stride up Madison Avenue. He was a nice man, always solicitous of her welfare. But he needn’t worry. Aware she often traveled to dangerous locations, her brother Jaime, a former CID agent, had arranged for her to have a concealed and carry permit for the lightweight gun she sometimes carried. Also, thanks to Jamie’s instructions, she learned how to fire the piece with accuracy and excel at self-defense. At six feet tall, she seldom stressed over personal safety.

After years of being in the public eye, Laurie loved her anonymity and had no regrets leaving the modeling trade. Involved in an exciting job and different way of living, she didn’t often let her thoughts stray to her twin and their former life.

She entered the Holloman Building which had been acquired by her family, and took the elevator to her penthouse alternate, one floor beneath the building’s highest apartment, used for entertaining. She entered, taking pleasure in the spectacular views of the city in the late fall evening from the broad expanse of windows. Her cell phone rang just as she shed her jacket and shoulder bag. Retrieving the phone, she eyed the listed number and went outside to the small terrace to take the call.

A familiar voice barked, Are you coming?

Not tonight, Rachel.

You have no travel plans I know of, or a date, so what’s your excuse this time?

Laurie heard background voices on Rachel’s phone. Where are you?

The girls and I got an early start and had a first drink at Morandes on 7th and Waverly Place. We’re just now entering the Standard.

Laurie hesitated. Maybe I’ll meet you later.

Hell, woman, it’s Friday night! You have to eat, so get yourself dressed and join us before we hit the Boom Boom.

Laurie groaned at the thought. The place gets so crowded and noisy.

We know. It’s why we want you to join us now.

Call me when you’ve finished dinner.

And you’ll come?

All right.

Wear something spectacular, Rachel ordered. A crowd is gathering, and we may take in more than one spot tonight. And, Laurie, you do know if you don’t show up, I’m bringing the party to you.

Laurie cringed. Not again. I’ll be there.

She ended the call with mixed emotions. Most times she loved her adoptive city, but other times, like tonight, she totally disliked it. The frantic pace New Yorkers seem to savor was universal, and as one of a famous duo once traveling a fast lane, she wanted no part of it. Unfortunately Rachel and her friends couldn’t seem to grasp that fact and insisted she join them on a least one of their outings. Still, as much as she enjoyed their activities, she wasn’t deceived by their invitations. Her notoriety was their entry into places catering to the rich and famous. Rachel was certainly rich enough, but obviously not notable enough in this city of party-going young people.

Laurie stood watching the lights shimmering over the city, remembering her chance encounter with Rachel Landry twelve years before. The two seniors, one from the Swiss boarding school and the other from a south Louisiana high school, met in Chamonix in the French Alps and became quick friends. They spent the whole of their Christmas vacation at a historic ski and climbing town on the picturesque side of Mont Blanc, and then later exchanged cards and notes. As adults living on different continents, they eventually drifted apart until Lani’s deceit caused the twins to part ways, and Laurie discovered her one time friend living in the city.

The close bond Laurie shared with an identical twin and their lives behind cameras had left her little time for developing close friendships with other women. She hadn’t realized what she’d missed until she reconnected with Rachel. Yet