Free The Inheritance (Happy Endings Resort Book 1) by Jennifer Benson

knees almost brushing against mine. He gently rubbed my knee as I took sip after sip of the water while I continued to look around the room.
    Is it possible that my grandmother and aunt being twins would have given them the exact same taste in interior design? I mean this wasn’t just a few things matching or the same theme running through the room. This was the exact same room. Right down to the pictures on the walls, the knickknacks on the shelves and on the fireplace mantel. The fucking curtains were even the same.
    “This is my grandmother’s living room. Right down to the curtains, pictures and knickknacks.” I pointed to the mantel behind him.
    “Well, they were twins.  I’m sure the might have liked some of the same . . .”
    “This isn’t some of the same stuff. This is the same couch, the same carpet, the same everything,” I stated. My stomach was in knots.
    “Should we check out the rest of the house? I doubt it would be the same all of the way through.” He stood up and reached his hand out to me.
    “But what if it is?” I mumbled as I took his hand and stood up.
    “Is the design the same? I mean did your grandmother . . .”
    “Oh my God!” I covered my mouth as we stepped into the kitchen. “The floor plan is different, but this is . . .” I turned around in circles looking at every inch of the room. “This looks exactly the same.” I opened the cabinet closest to me. “This can’t be real.” The cabinet had the exact same items lined up in them. I moved to the next cabinet. Then the next and the next until every cabinet and drawer was opened. “The dishes, the glasses, the silverware, everything.  What the hell is going on?”
    “Maybe we should go back to my place with the files.” He tried to pull me out of the room.
    “I want to see the rest of the house.” I let go of his hand and started down the hall to the first door. Every room. Every single room was the same. I hesitated at the last door. I had seen every room recreated from my grandmother’s house, but one. Mine.
    We had only lived in grandma’s house for a short time before—I hesitated at the word—“mother” died. She called it my blank slate. The first time I opened the door to go into the room I was disappointed that it had nothing in it.  She stood behind me looking into the room and said, “This is your room. Your space, your place. You do whatever you want with it.”
    My hand wrapped around the last door’s handle. I gripped it so tightly my knuckles were turning white and it felt like needles were beginning to poke at my skin.
    “Rory. Rory let go of the handle.” Jason’s hand covered mine and he eased my hand from the handle.
    “I have to see it. I have to see if that is my room.”
    “I’ll open the door.” He gently moved me aside and stepped up to the door. I held onto his arm as he turned the handle. “I’m going to count to three and then I’m going to turn the handle and open the door.” He squeezed my other hand as he began to count. I closed my eyes when he got to three.
    I heard Jason turn the handle and the swooshing sound of the door open. Jason took a step forwards. I heard his feet hit the bare, uncarpeted floor and my heart sank. The floor in my room had been uncarpeted. I only had a rug surrounding my . . . my eyes immediately popped open and were met with an exact duplicate of my room.
    My legs gave out on me and the heavy feeling of my body and mind had me dropping to the floor. I couldn’t help but continue to scan the room before me. The walls were the same light shade of purple. The queen size bed that stood in the middle of the room with the same bedding. My small wooden desk was in the far corner facing the door. My dresser was at an angle from my desk. Everything was exactly the same.
    “Why? What is going on? Why is everything the same?”
    “Let’s get out of here.” Jason bent down in front of me and lifted me with his arms under my elbows. I could barely move