So Wright (The Wrights 1)

“What did she tell you about this project?” Marty asked, his voice low so he didn’t interrupt Miranda.

“Just that she volunteers her welding skills,” Jack said, “and that her fondness for veterans comes from her relationship with you.”

He smiled and shook his head, staring out at the landscape. “Figures.”

Miranda turned right at the road and dodged other vehicles and workers. “If you’ve done any research, you’ll find people who believe container homes are no less expensive to build than brick-and-mortar, but I’m here to tell you that’s not true. Keeping costs under control involves planning.”

She spoke about using recycled materials and ingenuity of design to utilize the container’s strengths along with standard-size building materials to keep costs under control.

“Smart,” Jon said.

Jack glanced over his shoulder and found his father leaning forward, hanging on Miranda’s every word as they rolled up on a cul-de-sac where the land had been graded for home sites and foundations had been poured.

“We carefully clear the land and place homes using existing trees to protect containers from weather and to prevent drainage problems, which can cause rust issues.”

Jack’s father asked more about rust, and Miranda told him about pretreating and painting the containers for prevention. “Container selection is critical to strength and longevity, so I inspect each and every container before I clear it for use.”

“What about energy efficiency?” Roman asked. “How do you keep them cool in the summer and warm in the winter?”

“Spray insulation is best suited for the underside of the container,” she told him, “while blanket insulation can be used in walls and ceilings. On this project, we have a company donating the spray insulation, so we use that exclusively, but you could save some money by using both spray and blanket. Good insulation saves money on utility costs, and when we’re talking about limited- and fixed-income residents, that’s important. We also design windows and doors to allow cross breezes and install ceiling fans in all bedrooms and living rooms.”

She backtracked along the street, took another turn, and started up a slight grade to the next cul-de-sac. “Many container homes are built at a factory and transported to the site, which makes the construction of a home extremely quick, often only hours. To keep our costs low and involve the community, we’re building on-site.”

The next cul-de-sac had containers on foundations. Crews were busy framing up the interiors. But the gears of Jack’s mind had gotten stuck back on her comment about container inspection. A few of Miranda’s phrases stuck in his mind. I inspect each and I clear them for use.

As she explained how welders cut openings in the containers for windows and door placement, Jack turned to Marty. “What did you mean when you said it figures?”

Marty continued to look out over the construction with the satisfied expression of a proud father. “She always undersells herself.” He looked at Jack. “This entire project is Miranda’s baby.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning this is all her, from the ground up,” he said. “Miranda prefers to focus on her welding, so she’s set up a strong management team to handle other aspects of the project. But this whole development was Miranda’s brainchild.”

He fixed his gaze on Jack. “About three years ago, one of her coworkers at Pinnacle wanted to build a hunting cabin using a container and asked Miranda if she’d do the welding. She fell in love with the whole process and immediately saw all the possibilities containe

r homes could offer. It was like a light clicked on. Since then, she’s pulled together all the donations, resources, and volunteers. She’s interfaced with the local building department to ensure a smooth build and worked with the Department of Veterans Affairs to obtain available grant money.”

He returned his gaze to the land. “This is the first large-scale build of its kind and holds amazing implications for more communities like it. There are a lot of eyes on this project. If it succeeds, it will mean a whole new level of success for Miranda’s future.”

At some point, Jack’s jaw had unhinged. He was still trying to wrap his mind around Miranda’s skills and ambitions. “Why in the hell does she work at a bar? In addition to her job at Pinnacle? Where does she find the time?”

“That’s a point of contention between us. It’s my bar. Miranda doesn’t think I should be slinging drinks into the wee hours of the morning, so she picks up shifts when someone calls in sick or there’s a popular band booked at the Opry. Don’t get me wrong, at my age, I appreciate the help, but she also uses it as an excuse not to move forward with her own plans. I had to go behind her back to bring in Roman. That’s the way it is with Miranda. Sometimes you just have to circumvent her own self-limiting beliefs.”

“Plans?” Jack found himself annoyed he was having to get this information from Marty. “What are her plans?”

“A company of her own, building these kinds of communities for the less fortunate and those living on a limited and fixed income. Seniors, section eight, veterans, single-parent families. She wants to get people off the streets and into affordable little homes like these, creating communities where like-minded folks can come together and support each other. Where struggling families can be safe.”

“So, is Steele an investor for this development?”

“No. This project is fully funded and staffed. Well, mostly funded. We recently came up a little short, but we’re working on it. This phase of the project—one hundred and twenty-seven one- and two-bedroom homes—is a done deal. This property is large enough to support four phases.”

Just as the enormity of this project and Miranda’s potential hit Jack, she turned onto another street, where the containers had been fully constructed into homes. And to his surprise, no two looked alike. They might have been variations on a theme, all modern and sleek, but each had its own individual layout and style. Some had pitched roofs, others a single slant of metal. Some had courtyards and pergolas, others had decks and lawns. All had small footprints, but some were single-story structures, maybe eight hundred square feet, and others were more spacious split levels or two stories with about twelve hundred square feet. The perfect size for the elderly who were struggling or downsizing.

But while his professional opinion of Miranda skyrocketed, his personal emotions swirled with conflict. She’d kept her job at Pinnacle from him. She’d kept the scope of this project from him. She’d been willing to break off their relationship rather than confide in him. Him. Someone who could completely identify with her abilities and ambitions. Someone who had connected with her on the most intimate level.

His father turned in his seat, meeting Jack’s gaze with all the amazement this project warranted. “I think we’ve been underutilizing Miss Wright’s expertise at Pinnacle.”

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