The Lucky One (2) - Taylor Swift

10

"What do you mean you think our sister is there?" Michael asked slowly and rationally as soon as Grace said it.

"I said what I said," she looked up at Eleanor and asked, "How many languages do you speak?"

"Just English."

"Satan has a particular set of cheekbones and eyes that are very clearly on this woman's face," Grace said in Mandarin, she hoped Michael would be able to catch her drift.

Eleanor hadn't been expecting that. She also hadn't expected Grace to look like she had just been run over with a train from being sick but she did. The Grace she had seen in news articles over the years had never looked like she had experienced a bad day.

"Does she want money? We don't have any."

"I don't know," Grace answered, "Can you come to the office? I cannot deal with this."

"I'm already in the truck," he sighed, "Are you kidding?"

"I wish I was."

Michael was only ten minutes away, so when he came into the little office in the middle of the lot, Grace had already been staring Eleanor down for a little while. She didn't talk, she didn't have the mental stamina to muster up anything to say.

"Oh fuck, you've got to be a Kent," he took one look at her and saw the strong genes, "I'm Michael, plague spreader over there is Grace... I'm sure you know that."

"Yeah," Eleanor extended her hand for him to shake awkwardly. His were dirty from working but wiped it on his pants before he muttered an apology and reciprocated the gesture of good faith.

"What do we do?" Grace asked while she reached for another tissue, "How did you find us?"

"I used google...?" She answered unsurely, "Robertson Construction, you have thirty-one five star reviews and not a single bad rating."

"But in general. Surely it would have been easier to approach William," Michael pushed further, "We don't do social media."

"I hired a guy," Eleanor looked guilty saying it, "I've had my suspicions for a few years. I found an old journal my mom had in our attic and then when you mentioned the affairs during the press conference, well, I really put it together."

"We don't have any money, if that's why you're here," he put his hands up in a defensive manner.

"I don't need money," the younger woman in the room was offended by that statement, "I went to private school, had tutors, all of the stuff I ever needed. I just don't know where my mother got that money and she's dead, so I can't really get those answers. I was hoping you would have them."

"We can talk," he nodded, "But I want you to take a DNA test first."

"Deal."

"Okay, let's go," he put his hand on the doorknob, "Grace, time to find out if you and I are related."

"We're twins, you idiot."

"We could have different fathers."

Grace scoffed, "Where do you expect to just walk in and get a DNA test done on a random Monday?"

"Alan got one done on his ex's kid at the hospital, they've got a machine. Found out it wasn't his in just two hours."

"Who is Alan?" Eleanor asked as Michael locked the office door behind them.

"You're better off not knowing," he replied before he told her to follow his truck because it wasn't too far.

It really only did take two hours from the time all their cheeks were swabbed to the results.