The Family You Choose (28 page)

On Thursday afternoon, she called Emily’s.
"Miranda! Hey stranger, what’s going on?"

Emily sounded so weak. "Are you alright?"

"Um, yeah, I guess...we have a little
catching up to do."

Miranda laughed a little. "Yeah, I think so.
What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Screw that," Emily said. "What are you doing
tonight?"

They arranged to meet at five at Princess
Cappuccino. Michael wouldn’t be home from work for another two
hours, but that’s not what Miranda told Emily.

Miranda was aghast when she saw Emily drawn
and pale. "Emily, are you okay?" She hugged her, and she felt frail
and bony. "What’s wrong?"

Emily smiled. She looked even more tired. No
easy way to say it. "I’m pregnant, Miranda. Just about six or seven
weeks."

Miranda’s jaw dropped. "Oh my God! Why didn’t
you tell me?"

"I was going to, but—" She took a deep
breath. Her skin looked so drawn. "I got really sick right before I
was supposed to come over to you. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t
too worried."

"No, no," Miranda stammered. "It’s okay.
But—are you better now?"

Emily grimaced. "I’m not in danger of passing
out, but I’m not exactly one-hundred percent yet. I guess that’s
okay, because I don’t even remember what that feels like anymore."
Miranda bit her lip. It seemed like someone had sucked the life out
of Emily. "But, um…" Emily took another deep breath. "Zainab told
me a little about what happened with Alex. Honey, I am so sorry I
wasn’t there for you. What happened? Are you okay?"

Inexplicably, Miranda felt tears come to her
eyes. She wiped them away, and Emily put her hand on hers. Miranda
teared up even more. "Alex—lied to me about my whole life. My whole
damn life. And my mother too." She shrugged. "Everyone had Alex’s
number way before I did. Everyone knew what a scheming bastard he
was. Even I knew. I just never thought..." She cried a little bit
more, glad Michael wasn’t here to see this.

"I’m sorry sweetie," Emily said, and she
sounded like she got a little stronger with her words. "But it’s
over now. You’ve got me and Zainab, and Richard. And Jessie’s
getting better, right? And now Alex is out of your life, and as a
bonus, so is that freak Michael. See, it’s all good."

"Oh, Em!" Miranda buried her face in her
hands and shook as she cried.

Emily reached over awkwardly to stroke
Miranda’s arm. "It’s going to be okay, I promise. It’s all better
now."

Miranda looked up at Emily miserably. She
wished she could not tell her, but she had to. "Emily, Michael
isn’t out of my life. And he isn’t going to be." Emily kept her
hand on Miranda’s arm, but she looked confused. "Michael and I got
married. Michael is my husband."

Emily let her hand drop. "What did you
say?"

"I married Michael this weekend. I married
Michael." She blinked. "I love Michael."

Emily started gripping her fingers. Miranda
knew she was remembering what Michael did. "You saw what he did."
Emily whispered. "You cried. You told me you couldn’t turn him in
because of Alex. You told me you couldn’t even turn him over
Jessie." Emily took a deep breath and shook her head. "And you
hated him. He made you cry. He took things away from you. Your
friend Sophie." Miranda closed her eyes. "You didn’t marry
him."

Miranda opened her eyes. "I did marry him. I
know everything he did. And I’m sorry for it all. He’s changed.
He’s not the same person. He wouldn’t touch you again."

"Really?" Emily whispered. "You’re sure? How
are you sure, exactly? What did he do? Is he in therapy? Is he on
medication? When did he see the light, Miranda?"

Miranda shrugged helplessly. "It’s me. I’m
sure because he loves me."

Emily blinked, and then laughed. "He loves
you? You love him? Since when?"

"He’s always loved me," Miranda said. It made
perfect sense to her now. Why couldn’t it make sense to everyone
else?

Emily looked pale again. "And you love him?
Since when?"

"Because he’s the one who told me the truth.
Because he’s the one…" She bit her lip, knowing it wouldn’t make
any sense. "He’s the one who takes all the sadness away. He’s the
one who makes everything good." She smiled. "Better than I ever
thought."

"You loved Alex two weeks ago."

"I was a fool."

"And suddenly you stopped being one?"

Miranda’s lip trembled. "I’m not you. How
long did it take for you to decide that Mitch was worth loving? How
many hoops did you make him hop through before you’d decided that
he deserved to be loved?"

"Did you make Michael jump through any?"

"Alex gave him a concussion, does that
satisfy you?"

Emily shook her head, tears in her eyes. "No.
Not until he’d never hurt anyone again."

"What would I have to do? What would he have
to do?"

"You don’t understand. You can’t change that.
Those people don’t get better."

"Don’t say that."

"Maybe it’s okay for you. Maybe even me
someday. But not…" Emily couldn’t finish her sentence, but Miranda
understood. "I can’t take risks for other people. Not the ones that
I’m supposed to protect." Miranda looked down at the table as Emily
stood up. "I hope I’m wrong. For your sake."

Miranda cried for an hour that night, unable
to get out a full sentence when Michael asked her what had
happened. Finally, she was too exhausted even to cry, and she fell
asleep in his arms. The last thing she heard was that he loved
her.

The Hendrickson money cleared three weeks
later, and it was even more than Richard had guessed. Michael had
wanted to quit his job immediately, but he finally agreed with
Miranda to wait until he could figure out what he was going to do
next.

They were lying in bed, sipping wine. "That
is more money than we’ll need, I think, unless you wanted to do
something crazy, like start a company with Richard," Miranda said.
"I think you should give some of it away."

"Hmm...Michael Abbot, philanthropist. I sort
of like the way that sounds," Michael mused. "What did you have in
mind?"

"The library," Miranda said almost
immediately.

"The library?"

"You know, it’s this place where you get
books and music and movies. And it’s free, so anyone can use
it."

"Oh that place," he smiled. "And why should I
give them some of my hard-inherited money?"

"Because they are always ludicrously
under-funded. They haven’t closed any branches yet, but the hours
for some of them are ridiculous, and they don’t replenish their
collections as often as they should. A good donation could make a
big difference."

"And you used to like it there, right?"
Michael said, as he put his glass down. "That was your little
refuge."

"I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, but—hey, how
did you know that?"

"I might have gotten into your room a couple
of times to go through your things."

"And you’ve managed to be un-creepy for so
long. What a shame."

"Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I
used to follow you there sometimes."

Miranda stopped drinking. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to see what you were really
like. Without Jessie, without Richard, without Alex. What went on
inside that pretty little head of yours?"

She pulled the covers over herself. "And what
did you find?"

He smiled and moved in closer. "That you
believe in romance. You root for the underdog. You like quiet
moments. And you like simple, beautiful things—nothing too
swanky."

She put her glass down. "That was probably
easy enough to gather from breaking into my room."

"But then I would never have seen you
dreaming by the fountain in the courtyard."

"Why...why didn’t you say something, if you
were there?"

"I don’t know what I would have said."

"’Hello’ usually works best."

"Why are you angry?"

"Because I was lonely, and you were
being...normal, mostly, except for the stalking part." She looked
at him. "Maybe I could have seen a different side of you."

She lay on her back, and he put himself in
plank over her. "Do you think you would have loved me?"

"Do you think you would have been nice to
me?"

"Eventually."

"And do you think you would have told me the
truth?"

Michael smiled and shook his head. "No."

Miranda frowned. "Why not?"

"Because then you might have left Alex, and
you might have left me. I know, that’s pretty selfish and messed up
and—oof!" Miranda had grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him
down so he came crashing on top of her.

"Is that really why you didn’t tell me?" she
whispered after she kissed him.

He nodded shyly. "Yeah, it really is."

"You’re such a strange man," she whispered as
she kissed him.

"One step up from creepy." Then he moaned as
Miranda hungrily bit into his neck and chest.

~~~

For the first time in years, Alex made a
point of staying in Boston. He insisted that most business be
conducted on the phone, or dispatched his most senior employees for
things that absolutely required face to face contact. He was
reluctant to trust people, even those who had worked with him for
years, but he had to balance his interests. He needed to get
everything in order before he could go anywhere.

He was at home when Keith announced Lucy
Bartolome. Alex hadn’t seen her look so happy in years.

He leaned back in his chair. "Good afternoon,
Lucy. What can I do for you?"

Lucy took off her gloves. "Nothing at all,
Alex. This is strictly a social call."

"I’m flattered."

"I thought you might be." Lucy smiled
broadly. Alex narrowed his eyes. "Good news travels fast, though I
must say, I was a little hurt not to receive official
notification." Silence. "And not even an announcement in one of the
papers. Aren’t you happy for them?"

"As long as they’re happy," Alex said, not
taking his eyes off of her. "That’s what’s really important."

"I wouldn’t have expected any less from
you."

"Lucy, I’m touched, really, but you didn’t
have to go to such trouble to congratulate me. A card would have
been perfect."

"But then I’d have missed the look on your
face."

"So now you’ve seen it and—"

"Don’t worry; I had no intention of wearing
out my welcome. But I also wanted to know if you were planning on a
match?"

"A match?"

"For Michael’s generous gift."

Alex sat up. "What gift?"

"Haven’t you heard? Michael just came into
his inheritance. From the Hendrickson side. He’s made a very
generous donation to the library, according to Richard. I’ve got to
imagine that’s Miranda’s influence." Lucy smiled and sighed. "Isn’t
it wonderful to see how much redemption and respect you can buy
these days? Michael learned so well from you." Another smile. "In
so many different ways."

Alex stood up. "Lovely to see you as ever,
Lucy. Let me show you out."

She grabbed her gloves. "There’s very little
you can show me anymore," she said before she turned and left.

Alex strummed his fingers on the table. That
might work to his advantage, but it was a little bit of a risk at
this point.

Miranda had been searching for the perfect
dress to wear to the Friends of the Boston Public Library Benefit
for weeks. She’d found it at last. It was a long, black silk
column, with a very slight tulip hem. She’d had it altered so it
fit her perfectly. The tailor had recommended that she wear a very
high heel with it to accentuate the long lines of the dress. She
wasn’t used to that, but for one night she could manage.

Michael put on a black suit and had finally
gotten his hair cut for the occasion. Miranda laughed because he
wouldn’t otherwise admit how much this event meant to him.

Once again, Michael was speechless when he
saw her. "Wow," he finally managed. "You look beautiful."

She came up to him. In the heels, she was
almost as tall as he was. "And you look very handsome."

"We’re such a good looking couple," he
teased. "I think we should just stay in and let them mail us the
plaque."

"Do you know how much I spent on this dress?
I think I’d like to be seen in it for a few hours. Just to get my
money’s worth."

"Babe, you already have."

They took a cab to the hotel and were seated
with the Chairman and his family. Miranda, well-versed in the
library history and current affairs, had given Michael a preview of
topics that might come up. Michael held his own in conversation and
brought up a few ideas for fundraising. Miranda smiled yet again.
What other hidden talents would she find in him?

After the Chairman’s speech, Michael went up
to hand over the ceremonial check and accept his plaque. "Thank
you. But the real thanks tonight should go to my beautiful,
generous wife, Miranda Abbot. Without her, I wouldn’t be standing
before you right now, donation or no." The Chairman raised a glass
to Miranda, who beamed at her husband.

Michael was pulled away into several
different conversations. She excused herself to go into the powder
room. She came out a few minutes later and was walking back to the
hall when she heard someone behind her.

"You look lovely in that dress, Miranda. But
black has always suited you."

She turned around. There he was. All those
years that she’d pined for him to acknowledge what she felt—what he
felt—there it was. But it didn’t matter anymore.

"Hello, Alex," she said politely. "I didn’t
realize you were a contributor."

He took a step closer. "Someone makes a
donation that large, word gets around."

"And you made a donation yourself just to be
invited?"