Underneath the Willow Tree
The night before the big trip, Shelly Onishi left Valentine Manor on pretense of mailing a letter. It was only half a lie.
Dear La La,
It’s been a crazy year. You’re not going to believe this, but Elizabeth is alive. She reminds me so much of you it hurts. Does this mean Jenny takes after me? Terrifying…
Elizabeth Valentine slipped her feet into her twin sister Jenny’s purple Keds at the front door and stalked after Aunt Shelly into the hot, sticky night. Blackbird Springs, the Napa Valley wine hamlet they called home, was more humid than it used to be, according to Shelly, who had been griping all summer. The starlit heat and sweat triggered a sense memory in Eliza: vacationing in Mexico with Nurse Bennet. The thrilling Mazatlan taxicab rides, street vendors with their dancing toys, coconut-scented sunscreen, and a hint of Danger.
Shelly bypassed the family town car and took her old Volvo, gliding down the quarter-mile driveway lined with grapevines and passing through tall iron gates bedecked with a resplendent golden V for Valentine. Unseen, Eliza trailed in one of Valentine Vineyard’s many silver jeeps with the headlights off. They’d taken the soft tops off for the summer, letting her hair toss around delightfully in the wind while the AirPods in her ears canceled out the roar as she drove.
Just another perk of inheriting obscene wealth. When he died suddenly from an apparent accident in his study, their father, RJ Valentine, left mysterious heirlooms to Jenny and six other heirs in his will, which he claimed were clues to the mystery of who killed him. How RJ could have possibly predicted his own murder remained a specious detail, but by the rules of the will, whoever solved the case won his whole publishing fortune, and Jenny and Eliza weren’t about to let that opportunity slide.
They didn’t actually solve it; they’d just framed RJ’s awful wife, Valerie Valentine, for it. And boom, now they were quarter-billionaires. The real killer, the Stranger, was still out there, and despite Eliza’s dire warnings, she still wasn’t sure Aunt Shelly took the threat seriously. And when Eliza wasn’t sure, she put on her dark wash Levi’s 710s and Jenny’s favorite black top with the three-quarter-length sleeves and followed.
It was only a few miles to Shelly’s destination: GolfMax, a new driving range where rich yuppy tourists worked off their wine hangovers. How odd. After Eliza’s true identity was discovered by Shelly, she’d learned a lot about her aunt over the past six months, including her oft-mentioned hatred of golf, which she called the sport of the bourgeois. So what was she doing here, at this huge eyesore, controversial amongst the locals for its bright stadium lights and traffic snarls? Granted, Jenny did own 30 percent of it due to investments RJ made at Val’s encouragement before he died, but it’s not as though Shelly liked to advertise that fact.
Maybe it was weird to go spying on her aunt on a late summer night, but compared to her sister Jenny, Eliza was the normal one. Their estranged father, the late RJ Valentine, had been famous the world over for his series of Trouble: Girl Detective junior readers mystery novels. He dubbed his main character after Jenny’s middle name: Trouble. In theory, it was a tribute to the long-lost daughter he couldn’t be there for. In reality, it gave Eliza’s identical twin an enduring complex about living up to her fictional counterpart, something that psychiatrists would classify as an Axis I clinical disorder.
But to Jenny, being Trouble was a feature, not a bug, and no amount of parental restriction, deadly violence, or court-ordered psychotherapy was going to change that. Eliza had a lot of mixed feelings about growing up in an adopted home, never even knowing about Jenny and Shelly till she was a teenager. Certainly, she’d grown to adore her aunt over these last six months together. But maybe, all things being equal, her anonymous childhood was preferable. God only knew how Eliza would have turned out if she’d known her whole life that Danger was her own real middle name. Following her aunt around was downright tame compared to some of the shit she and Jenny got up to.
Or used to, before Jenny left.
At the driving range, piped-in notes of some old Motown song ricocheted through the night from tinny speakers, interspersed with the occasional buzz of an electric bug zapper and the ping! of golfers teeing off. Shelly bobbed from stall to stall in a casual gait, keeping time with the music, an envelope clutched in her hand. Halfway down, she paused at a stall where a man in a tight leather jacket and tighter jeans was lining up his swing. She twirled and shimmied past him—flirting?!—to get his attention. When he glanced back and smiled, Eliza felt her own face flush: it was Blake Lockhart, the town sheriff, out of uniform. He and Shelly had dated briefly until Shelly learned he was a liar and dumped him. Jenny despised Sheriff Lockhart. Eliza certainly tried to, but my god: that jawline, his wounded soul eyes, those forearms…
Perhaps Shelly agreed since despite their ugly breakup, here they were openly checking each other out. Blake couldn’t have missed Shelly’s summer wardrobe change. Gone were the mom jeans and cellphone holster, replaced by crop tops, tennis skirts, and a hip new blonde hairdo. After Blake, Shelly had dated the school Journalism teacher, Mr. White, for a while, but that fizzled away to nothing when Eliza’s reveal took her aunt’s attention away from romance. Now Eliza was about to leave the country for two weeks on the senior class trip, leaving Shelly once again free to focus on herself.
Honestly, get it, Shells!
Eliza wasn’t close enough to hear them, but her aunt’s conversation with Blake was brief. He ended it with a sexy grin, and Shelly shuffled on. Shelly headed right past the end of the driving range, daintily swinging her legs over a railing, and disappeared into a line of foliage bordering the facility. A cool breeze raised goosebumps on Eliza’s arms as she ducked into a gap between japonica shrubs and followed. On the other side, she found a small clearing dominated by a massive Willow tree, the breadth of its hanging eaves defiant in this narrow strip of undeveloped wetland.
Shelly suddenly perked up, glancing around.
Eliza ducked back behind a shrub and held her breath. After a dozen heartbeats, Shelly turned back to a stump next to the willow and sat down. She opened the envelope and withdrew a letter. With a pen from her purse, she appeared to sign it, then folded and stuffed it back into the envelope. Then she placed a rock atop the letter on the stump and left.
Eliza was dying to know what was in that letter. Counting to 10 was all the discipline she could manage before stealing across the clearing to the willow and snatching up the envelope. When she saw the first words, “Dear La La,” she remembered with shame that today was her late mother’s birthday. But she kept reading right to the end.
…I’m so, so sorry. I know I say it every year, but I miss you. I love you,
— Shells
P.S. the nurse who secretly adopted Lizzy was named Bennett. Meaning she grew up as Elizabeth Bennett hahahahah
P.P.S. Mom is still trying to set me up with Jason Park
P.P.P.S. you’re slipping, Lizzy.
Eliza jumped with a start, darting her head around.
“For someone who swears she’s responsible enough to travel alone in Europe, you sure aren’t doing too good a job convincing me,” said Shelly, approaching from the hedge line with crossed arms and a cross face.
Eliza smarted, her cheeks reddening. Getting caught by her aunt was beyond embarrassing. In Trouble’s absence, Eliza had built a reputation as the Good One. Maybe she was slipping.
“I won’t be alone. The whole senior class is going. Also! I’m not the one sneaking out in the middle of the night!” she said lamely.
“Oh no, we’re talking about you, not me.”
“Did Blake tip you off? Did he see me?”
A rare, sly grin passed over Shelly’s lips. She reached out and snatched the letter from Eliza’s hand. “This wasn’t for you,” she said and tucked it back into the envelope.
“Sorry, I…” Eliza had no excuse for this violation of her aunt’s privacy. “I saw her name and couldn’t stop.”
It must have been the right thing to say. Shelly softened and rummaged in her purse, producing two sticks of incense.
“You can stay,” she said.
“Thanks,” said Eliza. Her thoughts returned to the letter as her aunt stuck the incense into cracks in the stump. “You wrote in there that Jenny takes after you. Weren’t you a good girl?”
“Teacher’s pet. Valedictorian. Didn’t date. Didn’t smoke,” Shelly nodded, producing a zippo lighter from her purse to Eliza’s mild surprise. “I was absolutely by the book, and so is Jenny. Problem is, she read the wrong book. I should’ve changed her name to Kazumi and never even told her your father existed.”
Shelly let out a long sigh and lit the incense.
“I’m Kazumi. She’d be Kohari,” said Eliza.
“Ah, Kanji humor,” said Shelly.
As the fragrant incense wafted over them, her aunt set the zippo’s blue cone of flame to the envelope and let it burn.
“This was Laura’s favorite scent,” said her aunt. “This used to be a big field, and we’d come here with our sensu fans and pretend to be Japanese princesses… Jenny should be here.”
Back when Shelly figured out about Eliza and the whole twin switcharoo thing, Eliza was secretly relieved. Enough of the games and hiding; they could finally be a family for real. She’d calmed her stunned aunt and texted Jenny the good news. Jenny’s reply was brief.
T: You deserve your own time with Shelly, so I’m gonna go away for a while. Don’t worry about me.
Shelly had seethed but wasn’t about to show it in front of her parents—whom they were due to meet in minutes. They had a complicated relationship ever since Mom died. So maybe it would be easier for Eliza to be Jenny, just one more time until they figured things out?
Fine, one more time.
Meeting her grandparents was magical. Like discovering an appendage she never knew she was missing. Obaachan didn’t mind her dicey Japanese and taught her to say “watashi no kazoku,” which meant my family. They’d showered her with presents from their trip to Okinawa and stuffed her with amazing food. Eliza sort of forgot to be the troublesome and delinquent child they were expecting, and they were absolutely delighted with her. When they left, she’d asked her aunt how she did.
“You were perfect,” Shelly’d said, though her smile seemed to cause her pain. “Everything they ever wanted.”
She couldn’t wait to tell Jenny. Couldn’t wait for Jenny to meet them too. Watashi no kazoku. But her sister didn’t reply to her texts all that night or the next. Finally, two days later, Jenny sent another brief reply.
T: Actually, it looks like I’m gonna be gone a bit longer. Trouble business. Thanks for holding the fort down. I promise I’ll be back before Senior year.
Senior year!?! Eliza fired back a bunch of texts, asking for some clarification. She got nothing. Not a text, an email, a carrier pigeon—no indication her sister was even alive—for six goddamn months and counting.
Eliza must have made a face.
“I don’t—” Shelly bit her lip. “Eliza, I hope you don’t think I… that I favor Jenny more than you. It doesn’t work like that with family.” She swallowed a sob. “I miss her.”
“Me too,” Eliza said, her voice cracking.
The flames consumed the paper envelope. They watched the black ash float away on the breeze, both missing their sisters. Jenny, at least, could still come back. She had to. Wasn’t this her story?
“I should have filed a missing persons report,” said Shelly. “I should have done something. She’s my dau—my responsibility.”
“She’s probably just staying at the Crow’s Nest, running some long con operation to catch the Stranger,” Eliza said, hoping it was true. “But if people know she’s gone, then they know about me. They’d figure out we framed Val, and then we lose the house and the money and—”
“We could go back to my parents’ house,” said Shelly. “You love them. And they love you.”
Eliza beamed despite herself. She’d never had grandparents before. Playing Shogi with her obaachan, eating her fish stew, impressing ojiichan with her suddenly drastically-improved report card: her heart had never been more full. She would die for her grandparents, but that was the problem: revealing herself would put them all in danger.
“I do,” said Eliza. “But you’d hate living there, and besides, the money isn’t the point. The Stranger is.”
“Yes, your ultra-dangerous boogeyman who somehow hasn’t made an appearance since your sister left,” said Shelly, rolling her eyes.
Eliza wasn’t sure whether to be concerned, or very concerned, that there’d been no sign of the Stranger since he poisoned her half-brother Jack and his sister Tori on Valentine’s Day. Not even a KiLLROY WAS HERE note. Tori was still in her coma at the hospital, and Jack had done everything he could to avoid her since. Maybe Jenny smashing his heirloom blackbird statue had something to do with that, though.
“We shouldn’t argue if we’re paying tribute to Mom,” said Eliza.
Shelly softened and nodded. Eliza let the lavender and sage incense fill her lungs, imagining that she remembered the smell from those five days of her life when she had a birth mom. She took her locket out, the silver one Jenny had given her for Christmas, and smiled at the photo of her mother inside. She wanted to say something to her aunt, but the words wouldn’t come, so she hugged her instead. Shelly didn’t speak a word either, but she returned the embrace, giving Eliza’s shoulders a good long squeeze.
Her watch vibrated then, a little used code. One. One-two. One. For a brief, thrilling moment, she thought Jenny was back. But no, it wasn’t her.
“We should go,” Eliza said, pulling away.
Shelly doused the remaining ashes with a Hydroflask from her handbag. They’d taken three steps back toward GolfMax when a shadow materialized in the path between the bushes.
The Stranger stepped forward under the waxing moon.
The inky black coat with the upturned collar, the impenetrable mask, the fedora—he was just as he’d left Eliza after attacking Drew and Jenny in the alley last winter. A tall, dark, and strangesome menace.
“Beware!” said the Stranger in a low, growly voice.
“You!” said Eliza.
She tried to step in front of Shelly, but her aunt suddenly pushed her aside.
“Back the fuck off, asshole!” Shelly shouted, raising a snub-nosed revolver from her purse and aiming it at Trouble’s arch-nemesis. “Unless you want a lead salad! Just try me!”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” said the Stranger after a pregnant pause.
“Shelly, don’t!” Eliza yelped.
She shoved her aunt’s arm aside. It was all the distraction the Stranger needed to beat a hasty retreat back into the japonica shrubs.
Shelly kept the gun aimed, her knuckles white, and her eyes locked on the bushes.
“I thought we hated him,” she said through gritted teeth.
“We do, but…” Eliza scoffed, searching for an excuse. “Trouble doesn’t use guns, Shelly. Blake has his service revolver, that’s it. You’re messing with the canon—he hates that.”
“You sound like your sister,” she frowned. “Whatever, Blake gave me this one, and a concealed carry permit, so you can tell your Stranger to shove his canon right up his ass.”
A minute passed, but the Stranger made no further appearance. Shelly cautiously lowered her revolver.
“You’re sure that’s the same guy who attacked Drew? And Val’s kids?”
“Yes,” Eliza hissed and lowered her voice. “And if he finds out about me, I’m expendable. I’m not canon either. Only Trouble.”
“Fine. But she better get her ass back before school starts,” Shelly said, returning the gun to her handbag but keeping a grip on it. “And no way are you two doing the switcharoo thing at school when she does.”
They followed the dirt path back to the big lights and piped-in Motown of GolfMax. Eliza filled the walk with empty chatter about tomorrow’s big trip to Europe, not daring to voice her real fear: that the twin switcharoo wouldn’t be necessary if Jenny never returned. That she’d be stuck playing Jenny forever.
