So Wright (The Wrights 1)
“What a night.” She sighed, following the curving gravel drive toward what she affectionately referred to as “the compound.” She, Marty, and Elaina, Marty’s mother, all had a trailer on the property, each set up to be close enough to socialize, far enough apart for privacy.
It was a stunning spring day, the air crisp, the sun warm.
Life was good.
When Miranda crested the sloping path, the land opened up into a place she and Marty had worked hard to manicure into a truly lovely settlement. Picnic tables and barbeques squatted under a stand of big leafy cedar and black walnut trees. A couple of hammocks were strung between elms and poplars, amid a smattering of dogwoods that bloomed stunningly in April. Gentle hills rolled in the distance, where fifteen shipping containers rested in three tidy lines. Eventually, they would replace the trailers as homes.
Every time she saw them, she itched to start building. She’d already created the drawings for all three homes, but she needed a crew of construction workers with different specialties to finish off the containers once she’d done the welding. That all took money and time. Marty had been putting the profits from the bar back into the business to upgrade and sustain its popularity, and, between work and volunteering, Miranda didn’t have the time to dedicate to the project.
Someday…
The path forked into two roads, one that dead-ended near the center of the common area, creating a driveway of sorts, and the other circling around the back of the trailers. A sexy little dark blue soft-top Jeep was parked between Marty’s Ford truck and Elaina’s Buick sedan.
Miranda followed the path to the right and spotted Marty, sitting in the Adirondack chairs at the firepit with a woman. And it definitely wasn’t his mother, Elaina.
Miranda pulled up behind her trailer and parked. She got out of her truck, wandering toward Marty to ask if he still wanted to drive together to the Warrior Homes jobsite.
As soon as she cleared the edge of her trailer, she caught the profile of the woman sitting with Marty. Her feet halted. Her stomach dropped.
Gypsy.
Before Miranda’s thoughts could catch up with her reaction, Marty lifted a hand and waved Miranda over. “Look who I found.”
Gypsy followed Marty’s line of sight. She was still smiling at whatever she and Marty had been talking about as she met Miranda’s gaze. Miranda hadn’t seen or spoken to Gypsy in four long years, hadn’t seen her in longer, and her half sister had only grown more beautiful.
Her raven-black hair fell to her shoulders in loose spirals, and dimples still flashed in both cheeks. Even from this distance, Gypsy’s green eyes seemed radiant. She’d lost a little more of the round face she’d always had as a kid, and the new, more heart-shaped look elevated her from pretty to stunning. Everyone told them they looked like twins, but Miranda knew Gypsy was, far and away, more beautiful.
Regret swamped Miranda first. But she only had to remember their mother’s funeral for anger to whip up. For her barriers to rise and lock into place. For all the joy from her night with Jack to evaporate.
“Hey, Miranda.” Gypsy stood and faced her as Miranda made her way closer. “You look great.”
Because Gypsy looked like she might try to hug Miranda, she stopped a good ten feet away. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. Gypsy read Miranda’s expression, and the happiness in her expression drained, replaced by a subdued and contrite smile Miranda recognized well. The one Gypsy always wore when she was asking for forgiveness when she should have asked for permission in the first place.
“Gypsy.” Just saying her name hurt. Miranda was suddenly bombarded by her past. Her tumultuous, painful, complicated, ugly past. “What do you want?”
Gypsy released a heavy breath. Her smile fell, but she held Miranda’s gaze. “I wanted to see my sister.”
“Bullshit.”
“Miranda.” Reprimand rang clear in Marty’s voice. Miranda knew how he felt about family. But she knew how much turmoil and hurt remained between herself and her two half siblings, Gypsy, the youngest, and Dylan, the middle.
Marty pushed to his feet. “I’m going to let you two talk.”
“No time.” Miranda turned her gaze on Marty. “We’re due at the jobsite.”
Marty met her gaze with a frown. When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off with “I’ll just meet you there.”
Marty looked at Gypsy. “It’s great to meet you, Gypsy.”
“You too.”
Neither of them spoke as Marty made his way to his trailer and started up the steps.
Once he’d disappeared inside, Gypsy said, “Wow, he really moves well with that prosthetic.”
Miranda waited for Gypsy to look at her before asking, “Why are you really here?”
“I really wanted to see you. It’s been too long. I don’t want to let the past linger between us anymore.”