This fic is based on the Ever After novel by the amazing Jude Deveraux. I just borrowed it and put my lovely OTP in it because ever since I read it, I immediately taught of Mercedes and Sam as the main characters. My mind loves to do that. 98% of the story will be the words of Jude Deveraux.

I hope you will enjoy the retelling of the story.

Mercedes couldn't find the packet of papers she needed to give her boss. She remembered putting them in a big white envelope, then slipping it into her tote bag. Although the bag was in the trunk of her car, the envelope wasn't in it. As she stood in the mall parking lot, she went over everywhere she'd been that morning. To the pharmacy to pick up her stepsister's favourite hair conditioner, to the dry cleaners to get the skirt Aphasia had stained, and she stopped by the garage to ask yet again when Aphasia's car was going to get ready so she could run her own damned errands.

Mercedes took a deep breath to calm herself. There were also six plastic bags in the trunk - all of them full of her stepsister's clothes, unopened bills, shoes, and beauty products - but none of them contained the envelope full of papers. She closed the trunk and turned away. Too much! She thought. It was all getting to be too much for her. Since Aphasia had returned six weeks ago, everything had been chaos. Mercedes was a morning person; her stepsister liked to stay up all night. Mercedes needed quiet to study for her exams; Aphasia didn't seem alive unless some machine was emitting noise. The car Aphasia had driven back from California was in such bad condition that she'd wanted to have it towed away.

"I'll just borrow yours", she said, then left the room before Mercedes could protest. But then Aphasia had made it clear why she was staying. She wanted Mercedes to sell the house and split the money. The fact Mercedes's father hadn't changed his will after he'd married Aphasia's mother made no difference. Aphasia said that legally the house might not be half hers, but it certainly was morally.

"He was my father too," Aphasia said, tears in her thickly lashed eyes. As a pretty little girl, she'd perfected the look of sadness that made people give her whatever she wanted. When she grew up to be an even prettier young woman, she saw no reason to stop using her looks to manage people. But Mercedes had never fallen for her act.

"Cut it out!," she said. "It's me, remember? Not some casting director you're trying to seduce"

With a sigh, Aphasia sat up straight and the tears instantly ceased.

"Okay, so let's think about you. Think what you could do with your half of the money. You could travel, see the world"

Mercedes leaned back against the car and turned her face up to the sun. Her stepsister's attitude of here's-something-else-you-can-do-for-me wore a person down. Aphasia's incessant talking, badgering, pleading, and at times anger made Mercedes want to throw up her hands and call a realtor. She'd shown on paper that if she sold the house, by the time she paid off the mortgage she'd had to get to buy a new roof and repair the plumbing and electrics, they would barely break even. But Aphasia had just waved her hand and said houses in L.A sold for millions.

But in the last two weeks Aphasia had been calmer, almost as though she'd given up. She'd been asking Mercedes about her work as a physical therapist, saying, "What would you recommend for a ma with a torn up knee?"

"Describe the injury to me," Mercedes said, and Aphasia had read about it from an email she'd received. Pleased by her stepsister's interest, Mercedes had outlined the lengthy rehabilitation the man would need. Although Aphasia wasn't forthcoming with the details, Mercedes assumed that her stepsister had a friend who'd been injured. Whatever the reason, it had been nice to have some relief from Mercedes' relentless pursuit of her goal. Mercedes began to think that her life was at last coming together. She'd finally finished her coursework, passed her exams, and received her Massachusetts physical therapy license. Next week, she was going to start a job at a small local hospital.

She glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to run home to get the papers and make it to the office before Dr Edwards left for the weekend. As she drove, she thought it was exhilarating to imagine having a whole new life. New career, new job, new world. Only it wasn't exactly new. Her job was close to the house she'd lived in all her life, and she'd be working with people she'd gone to school with and her stepsister also planned to stay in the area.

"You're the only family I have left," Aphasia said. Mercedes knew that meant her stepsister would be at her house for every holiday, weekend, and catastrophe in Aphasia's very dramatic life. Mercedes believed in looking on the positive side of life, but sometimes she felt like applying for a job in some faraway, exotic place. When Mercedes turned down her street, she immediately noticed the blue BMW parked in front of her house. It stood out from the Chevys and Toyotas like a jewel in a pile of gravel.

Across the road, Mrs Chang was opening her mailbox.

"Mike's home" she called before Mercedes could pull into the driveway. "You should come over and say hello"

At the mention of the lawyer son, Mercedes' heart did a little flip. "I look forward to it," she said honestly. Since she was a child, Mercedes had often gone to the older woman - a substitute mother - when Aphasia's give-me-give-me attitude got too much. Chocolate lave cake did wonders to soothe Mercedes's tears.

She parked the car, got out, and closed the door quietly. She glanced at the shiny car, she did wonder who it could be. Mercedes opened the back door slowly so it didn't squeak. As soon as she was inside, she saw the envelope on the table on the far side of the kitchen and she could hear voices. Since there was an open doorway leading into the living room between her and the package, she didn't know how she was going to get across without being seen. But the man's voice took her mind off the papers. She'd heard it before but couldn't place it. When she peeped around the doorway to look into the living room, what she saw startled her.

Aphasia, seen in profile, had on one of Mercedes's suits. She was taller and thinner than Mercedes, so the skirt was shorter and the jacket too big, but she did look businesslike. On the coffee table were a cake and cookies, and what Mercedes knew was Mrs Chang's best tea set. Obviously, Aphasia had known the visitor was coming, but she'd said nothing.

The ma on the couch was facing the kitchen, but his attention was fully on Aphasia. He was talking in a low voice, something about a house, and for a moment Mercedes thought he was a realtor. But, no, she had seen him before. When Mercedes turned back to the kitchen, she remembered. He was Sebastian Smythe, the famous architect. In school she'd dated an architecture student who'd wanted her to go to a lecture with him. The guy had raved about the architect who was speaking. Mercedes had expected to be bored, and she was by what he said, but the speaker was very good-looking; tall, slim but muscular, with dark hair. So, what in the world was the famous Sebastian Smythe doing sitting in her living room?

Mercedes tried to hear what they were saying, but their voices were too low. She didn't know if she should step forward and introduce herself or tiptoe out and leave them alone. She had just turned to leave when she heard Mr Smythe say, "Now, Mercedes, if you'll just sign here, the house will be yours"

Mercedes froze in place. Aphasia was pretending to be her and selling the house to this man?! She stepped into the living room. Aphasia, pen in hand, had just finished signing a paper. "May I see that?" Mercedes asked softly, her voice controlled in spite of the anger she could feel bubbling inside her. Aphasia, her face draining of colour, handed the paper to her stepsister. It had the small print of a contract, and on the bottom was Mercedes's full legal name written in a rather good imitation of her handwriting.

"Just let me explain," Aphasia said, her voice near to panic. "It's only fair that I get a house too. It's not fair that you get all the inheritance, is it?" I'm sure dad would want me to have half of whatever he owned. He would -,"

"Excuse me," the man said. "but would someone please explain what's going on?"

Mercedes's anger was rising to the surface. She held out the paper toward him.

"You're Sebastian Smythe, the architect, aren't you? I can assure you that if you plan to put a skyscraper in here, the neighbourhood association will fight you to the very limit of the law"

Her statement seemed to amuse him. "I will do my best to repress my tendency to build skyscrapers wherever I go. Are you Mercedes's stepsister?"

"No. I am Mercedes"

The smile left the man's handsome face and for a second he looked from one young woman to the other. Without speaking, he pulled a paper from inside his briefcase and handed it to her. Taking it, Mercedes was shocked to see that it was a photocopy of her passport - only in place of her photo was one of Aphasia. When she looked closely, she could see where her stepsister had carefully cut around the edges of the picture to make it fit. If you were looking at the actual passport, what she'd done would be obvious, but the photocopy hid what Mercedes knew was criminal fraud.

"I had to do this," Aphasia said, her voice frantic, "You wouldn't listen to me, so I did what I had to. If you would only listen, I wouldn't have been forced to -"

Her look made Aphasia stopped talking. Silently, Mercedes went to her bedroom, opened the top drawer of her cupboard, and took out her passport. She went back to the living room and handed it to Mr Smythe. He studied the two documents, the looked at Mercedes who was still standing. "This is my fault," he said. "i didn't examine this carefully enough. Now I see what's been done." He looked at Aphasia, his eyes narrowed and angry. "I don't like being part of something illegal. My lawyers will contact you"

"I didn't mean anything bad," Aphasia said, tears welling in her pretty eyes. "I was only trying to be fair, that's all. Why should Mercedes get so much while I get nothing? Dad would have wanted me to have -"

"Quiet!" Sebastian said. "Sit there and don't say another word" He looked back at Mercedes. "I'm beginning to see the enormity of this and I can't apologize enough. I take it I haven't been emailing you for the past two weeks?"

"No," Mercedes was glaring at Aphasia, who had her head down, tears dropping onto her hands clasped in her lap. "I only know who you are because I attended one of your lectures"

Sebastian ran his hand across his face. "What a mess this is!" He looked back at Mercedes. "Since I don't know what's true and what isn't" he glared at Aphasia. "I'd better start at the beginning. You are a physical therapist and you just got your Mass license?"

"Yes"

"That's a relief! What do you know of your father's relatives?"

"Very little. He was orphaned young and raised in foster homes. He had no living relatives that he knew of"

"Right. That's what I was told. It seems that -" Sebastian glared at Aphasia. Her tears were now accompanied by sobs growing increasingly loud. Aphasia raised her head and looked at her stepsister. Her eyes were pleading. Pleading for what, Mercedes didn't know. Forgiveness? or to prove her 'fairness' by doing what Aphasia wanted?

"Aphasia" she said quietly, but firmly. "I want you to deliver the envelope of papers on the kitchen table to Dr Edward's office. I know you have no idea where I work, but the address is on the envelope. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mercedes. Of course you do, but when I get back, you and I must talk. And this time you have to listen to so you'll understand -"

"No!" Mercedes said firmly. "Aphasia, this time I am not going to forgive you. Now get the extra keys, take my car and leave"

Aphasia had the self-righteous look of someone who had been falsely accused of a crime, but she did what Mercedes told her to. When she was out of the house, Sebastian said, "If you want to prosecute, I'll bear all the financial responsibility. I feel really stupid about this"

"It's not your fault, Mr Smythe," Mercedes said in dismissal, and he told her to call him Sebastian. She glanced down and at the forged signature on the paper on her lap. With this as an evidence, she knew she could prosecute, but she also knew it wasn't in her nature to do so.

"Mercedes," Sebastian said as he looked at her, "I have a lot to tell you, explain to you and even more to make up to you. Mercedes, I mean Aphasia - was going to leave with me today"

"I see" Mercedes said, and for the first time she noticed her own luggage piled in a corner. Her tone told what she thought of the liaison.

"It's not like that," Sebastian said. "My wife and I live on Nantucket, and in about an hour I have to leave to board a friend's plane and return home. Aphasia was to go back with me, but I can assure you that it was purely business"

Mercedes wasn't understanding anything. "But what about the house? Why are you trying to buy it?"

"This house?" He glanced around it. "No offense, but -" He broke off when he realized how badly he was explaining things. "Your stepsister wasn't trying to steal this house from you. I'm the executor of the will of the late John Figgins and he left his house on Nantucket to you"

This news shocked Mercedes that she was barely able to reply.

"I don't know any John Figgins"

"I know" Sebastian tapped his briefcase. "It's all in here, and I sent copies of the documents to your stepsister. It will take some time for you to read them all. And..." He let out his breath.

"There's something else you should know" He paused for a moment. "Mercedes and I" Sebastian said, "I mean, Aphasia and I have been corresponding, but she's also been writing to a cousin of mine. She said she was a physical therapist and since he -,"

"Tore all four ligaments of his right knee while skiing," Mercedes said as puzzle pieces began to fall into place. "Aphasia grilled me about how to rehabilitate that specific injury"

"Uh...yeah...well..." Sebastian said "How do I say this? She gave permission for the old workshop on your property to be equipped as a gym" He hesitated. "And she invited my injured cousin to move into the downstairs living room of your house. She was to have the upstairs to herself. The plan was that her job for the next few months would be to get Sam back on his feet" His eyes widened. "If this, uh ... exchange hadn't been found out, how could she have done your job?"

"I have no idea" Mercedes said. "But then I never second-guess my stepsister" For a few moments she looked at him in silence as she tried to take in what he was saying. The first thing was to clear her mind or else anger would take over. As far as she could tell, right now she had two choices. She could stay here, start a job that was stable but offered little in the way of advancement, and live in her childhood home. But that would mean that she'd have to deal with Aphasia' never-ending whining about the injustices of her life - all of which could be solved if Mercedes just gave more, did more, cared more for her stepsister.

Or, Mercedes thought, she could go to Nantucket and ... she didn't know what was waiting there fore her and right now that sounded heavenly.

She took a breath. "Are you saying that I have a house and a job waiting for me on the beautiful island of Nantucket?"

Sebastian smiled at her tone. She sounded like she was on the receiving end of a magic wish. Considering what he'd just seen of her stepsister, that's what she was being offered. "If you want them, that is. You could leave with me now, or come later. Or I could sell the house for you and send you the proceeds. It's your choice. I'll help you, whatever you want to do. I certainly owe you"

For the first time since she'd come home, Mercedes smiled. "Can I have twenty minutes to pack?"

Sebastian grinned. "I'll call the pilot, delay the flight, and you can have thirty"

Mercedes went to her luggage, which Aphasia had filled with her own clothes, emptied the contents onto the floor, and pulled out her things that her stepsister had 'borrowed'. She looked at Sebastian.

"If Aphasia wanted to do this, that means your cousin Sam must be either gorgeous or rich - or both"

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't know about gorgeous. He's short and stocky, just a kid, really, but his stepmother is the writer, Mary Phillips"

Mercedes nodded. "Rich. I thought so. I'll be ready in 25 minutes"