So Wright (The Wrights 1)

And that would screw with a lot of veterans who were bumming couches from friends or family, transitioning from long-term care facilities, or curre

ntly living on the streets.

“Pinnacle won’t donate?” Gypsy asked.

“They have, several times. In fact, they donated the last lot of building materials, so I don’t want to ask again so soon.”

“I’d love to see it sometime,” Gypsy said. “I came across your drawings while I was cleaning. Really creative, cool stuff you’re designing.”

Miranda’s spine stiffened. She didn’t like people digging into her dream. Even when they praised and supported her, Miranda felt awkward about it. Marty continually told her she had to get over it. She needed to talk more about her dream if she wanted to be taken seriously, if she wanted to find investors. But it still felt fragile, as if the idea would shatter into a million pieces if she were criticized or laughed at.

“Thanks,” was all she could manage. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Gypsy took a slow, deep breath, and Miranda realized her sister wasn’t any more thrilled about this conversation than she was. “I hate the bad blood between us.” The regret in her voice told Miranda she was sincere. “And I know it’s mostly my doing. But, in the last few years, I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve had time to think about things—life, family, goals. I really fucked up with you. I should have come to help when Mom was sick. I should have been there for the funeral. For you. I was being selfish, and it was wrong of me. I’m really sorry about that, Miranda.”

This was coming out of left field. “Sounds like you’ve been talking to Marty and Elaina.”

“About the bar, not about this.” She paused, looked at her hands. “When Mom died, I didn’t even think of her as my mom. As little time as I spent with her, she was more of a nuisance than family. The only reason I didn’t fight what little visitation we had was because I knew I’d get to see you.”

She lifted her head and met Miranda’s gaze. “I was in my second year of college when she was sick. I had a full load of classes, and I was working two jobs. Her funeral was right smack in the middle of finals week, and I had to ace my tests to keep my scholarship.”

“Your father is loaded. Why didn’t he pay for college?”

“I didn’t want him to. I really wanted to make it on my own. The way you always have. That’s another reason I didn’t move to Switzerland with them. Plus, his wife never warmed up to me—unless she needed a babysitter for the younger kids, who were, for the most part, the spawn of Satan.”

This was all news to Miranda. Gypsy never complained during those short, infrequent visits in their youth. Gypsy’s and Dylan’s fathers would only allow the kids to see their mother when she was clean and sober. Since those bouts were few and far between, the three kids never spent much time together.

“I admit, I had a very single-minded outlook on life when you needed me,” Gypsy said, “and I didn’t feel like I could give up the time Mom required without screwing up my classes. But, if I could go back, I would have taken a semester off school and come to ease your burden a little. I would have been there for the funeral.”

The apology felt awkward to Miranda, the words bouncing off her instead of sinking in. She knew that was from years of keeping her barriers locked in place to deflect the hurt her family always seemed to bring.

“When I told you I came because I wanted to be closer to you, I meant it,” Gypsy said. “This isn’t just a visit. I came to stay. To rebuild what we had when we were young. To make up for at least some of the time we lost.”

So far, Gypsy was being honest, as far as Miranda could tell. But her earlier lies had Miranda on edge, second-guessing everything her sister said. Maybe she’d simply had an ah-ha moment in her life. An occurrence that showed Gypsy how much life she was missing without her family. Or maybe someone had tried to give her a dose of reality similar to the one Marty had given Miranda.

“There’s a lot of water under the bridge, Gypsy. To be honest, I’ve built up a lot of resentment over the years. That’s not all going to crumble away tomorrow.”

“I get that. I held a lot of resentment toward my Dad for moving overseas. Toward his wife for hating me, and, sometimes, even their kids for getting the family I didn’t. I know it takes time to work things out in your head and let the anger go. I don’t expect that overnight either. That’s why I’m staying, not visiting. I’m serious about this, Miranda. You’re my family. You’re important to me.”

Miranda couldn’t pinpoint why this turn of events made her so uneasy. She felt as if Gypsy’s words hoisted a boulder above her head, one that could drop and crush her without warning.

“And I don’t expect you to house and feed me,” Gypsy continued. “I’ll find my own place. Make my own life. I guess I just need to know you’re willing to work on things with me. If you hate me or if you’re dead set against being my sister, I’ll make another plan. But I really want to stay. And I really want us to be friends.”

Friends. Family. The whole subject brought on a mild anxiety attack.

Miranda took a deep breath and focused somewhere beyond Gypsy. Coworkers made their way to their vehicles in groups of twos and threes and yelled goodbyes to Miranda across the parking lot.

“I’m used to being alone,” Miranda said. “And I was always more of a mom to you and Dylan than a sister. Then I lost you both so young… It changed me. I’m not sure I even know how to be a sister, and I don’t seem to be good at having friends either.”

Miranda paused, looked away, looked back. God, she wanted to tell Gypsy “no.” Send her away. Crawl back into her safe, small life. But Marty’s words kept replaying in her head.

She looked down and scuffed the ground with her boot. “I guess we can give it a try.”

Not exactly enthusiastic, but there it was.

“Yeah?” Gypsy seemed cautious as well, and that gave Miranda a little more confidence. Confidence that Gypsy would take this relationship seriously. That she understood the stakes of trying to mend their family.

Miranda gave a nod.