Authors: Brandi Megan Granett
“Jinx?”
“Yup, you owe me a Coke. Only I already had a Coke today, and Daddy says only one soda once in a blue moon.”
“Blue moon, eh? I think our first meeting deserves some celebration. Maybe I can get him to bend a little?”
“That was quick,” Scott said. “I knew you would side with Randa Panda, sugar, I just didn’t think it would take all of ten minutes. Girls always stick together, eh?”
“It’s not like boys stick around.”
“Touché,” he said in a whisper. “Who is coming to the store with me to get marshmallows?”
Lynn sprang to her feet. “Shotgun,” she said. She quickly added, “But not really, I’m too short. It’s back seat city until I break four feet nine inches, if I break four feet nine inches!”
“I don’t know,” Miranda said. “Your dad’s pretty tall. You might make it.”
Lynn shook her head. “My ma was really short, though, four eleven. Right, Daddy?”
Scott winced a little. “Yup, sugar. Four eleven. Are we getting these marshmallows or what?”
Lynn galloped toward the door of the den. Miranda watched her, hanging back. “I’ll just wait here,” she said. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”
“I told you I could explain,” Scott said, looking down.
“I want to believe that, Scott, but I can’t even imagine a reason that it would be better for you to stop talking to me, to all of us, especially a reason that included Lynn. Why wouldn’t you have wanted her to be a part of our family?”
Lynn bounced back in with her puffy winter coat zipped all the way up. She bounced around Scott’s feet, making a circle around him.
“It wasn’t my choice,” Scott said. “But give me a chance. Later?” He shifted his eyes toward Lynn.
“Daddy, are we going? Are we going? Are we going?” Lynn began to chant.
Miranda nodded to Scott.
Miranda found Avery and her Dad watching television in Avery’s den, a room decorated to look like a Victorian tea parlor. Several tea sets littered the room on strategically placed antique tables. Their last housekeeper took one look at this room and asked for a raise. But in the middle of the room sat an oversized chair. Avery curled up next to Stanton, her legs in his lap. Tiger Woods and his caddy filled the television screen.
“So,” Avery said. She shifted in the chair to be more upright.
Miranda knew it was coming. The cross examination.
“You honestly had no idea about Lynn?”
“None.”
“You mean to tell me in this time of instant communication, all this social media and what have you, you and Scott never once even emailed?” Avery asked.
Stanton picked up the remote and muted the television.
“I tried. He wouldn’t write me back. And you both made it clear that this subject was not to be broached. In this day and age of tolerance, did Bunny and Linden really disown their son for having a baby out of wedlock? Did I lose my best friend because of some Puritan ideal?”
Her father chortled. “Well, that’s putting it square on the nose.”
“Yeah, but why did we have to spend the last six years pretending Scott never existed?” Miranda asked. “What happened?”
“I don’t really have the full story, but it wasn’t just Lynn. It was something about the mother and drugs. They didn’t want the woman using his trust fund for drugs, so they cut it off. Then Scott blew up and vowed to never speak to them again,” Stanton said. “Ugly, ugly, ugly, but somehow some common sense finally sunk in on both sides.”
“I still don’t understand how we got disowned in the process, too.”
“Drugs do terrible things to a person, and I couldn’t be sure Scott wasn’t using, too,” Stanton said. “I thought that it might be for the best.”
“What do you mean you thought it might be for the best? What did you do, Daddy?”
“I always knew that boy had eyes for you. I teased him constantly. I warned him to keep his distance until you were of legal age. But I am not daft. I saw the way you always followed after each other. I knew it would happen sooner or later. But when this unpleasantness happened, I asked Linden to deal with it. I couldn’t have you caught up in that mess, too.”
Avery stood up and joined Miranda staring at Stanton in disbelief. “Stanton, you never told me this. You told him not to talk to her? How could you?” Avery asked.
“You couldn’t trust me? You went behind my back and arranged things?” Miranda asked.
“He was spiraling out of control. I did not want you to lose out,” Stanton said.
Scott entered the room with Lynn up on his shoulders. She held the bag of marshmallows up high. “Who is losing? Tiger Woods again?” Scott asked.
“Just a case,” Stanton said. “You remember, sometimes you find yourself on the wrong side of the jury.”
“It’s been a long time since I was in that position,” Scott said. “Can’t say I miss it much.”
“Well, I for one must go back to it right now,” Avery said.
Stanton’s phone rang as if on cue; he waved as he followed Avery out of the room.
Miranda and Scott stood there staring at each other. After what she had just heard, she had no idea what to say. Her father made him leave her alone. And Scott let them do that. Part of her wanted to grab her things and leave the house. She couldn’t imagine staying here with any of them. She eyed the door just behind him.
“Don’t leave,” Scott said. “I don’t know what they told you, but don’t leave.”
Lynn said, “Miranda, don’t leave! We have the booty!”
“Booty? Are you a pirate?” Miranda asked, trying to change the subject.
“They celebrated ‘International Talk like a Pirate Day’ at school. What can you do?” Scott said.
“But Daddy, it was your idea! You told Mrs. Jean all about it.”
“Oh, what can you do, eh?” Miranda said.
“Aye, Captain, but I come only for hospitality and merriment. No plundering or pillaging in sight save this bag of marshmallows,” Scott said.
“Arg!” Miranda said, deciding to play along. She crooked her finger at Lynn. “And you wee lass, you come to plunder the kitchen of turkey on the morrow?”
“Urgh, captain, no siree, I come for thee sweet potatoes. The candied sweet potatoes.”
“Good choice, good choice.”
Lynn slid off Scott’s shoulder. “Shall we do the marshmallows now?”
“First go take your vitamins. They are in your bag upstairs. Grab a bottle of water from the fridge where Mrs. Avery showed you.”
Lynn heaved out a heavy sigh. “All right. I knew that was coming.” She slunk out of the room defeated.
“She’ll only be gone a minute, and I really can’t talk about this in front of her,” Scott said.
“I just don’t understand, Scott. What happened? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“My father made it pretty clear you didn’t want to talk to me. He made it sound like you thought I was a deranged drug addict.”
“A drug addict? I didn’t know anything about that. I sent you all of those emails. I called.”
“Emails? That was my address at the firm. I wasn’t allowed to forward anything. I couldn’t afford the phone, so I had it turned off.”
They heard Lynn start down the top of the stairs.
“Can we talk about this later?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.
“You keep saying later. Just tell me this. What changed? Why are you back now?”
“She needed a family,” he said. “If it’s what she needs, I can forgive them. For our sake, I’d ask you to do the same. Or at least pretend this weekend.”
She studied his face. He looked older and probably a little tired. But she saw the face of the person she always believed to be her other half. He balanced out every ounce of her seriousness with unadulterated enthusiasm. For all of his wild schemes, she held the set of detailed plans to make them happen. A pair. A team. At least they once were. She knew in her heart she could never deny Scott.
“Vitamins all taken,” Lynn announced. “Now for the challenge. Randa Panda, you go first. How many can you fit into your mouth without swallowing? Daddy will count since he made you do it last time.”
“Me?”
“Yes, taking turns is fair.”
“That’s right, taking turns is fair. Do they teach you that at school?”
“Yes. We have to take turns at each of the stations, and we take turns with the different teachers. But I don’t get a turn in Daddy’s class because he is mine.”
“Daddy’s class?”
“Yup. Third grade!”
“I’m a Montessori teacher now,” Scott said.
“Yes, everyone loves him. Even my teacher, Mrs. Jean! But she’s a Mrs. and not a student so she can’t love him like everyone else. He even coaches the soccer team. I’m the manager.”
“Manager, that’s an important job.”
“I make sure everyone shows up on time and has the right equipment and eats a healthy snack. We aren’t allowed to have chips or cookies.”
“Lynn, don’t talk Miranda’s ear off—are we going to do this dare or what?”
“She’s not talking my ear off; I like hearing what she has to say. I’d love to know more about your life now. Clearly, I’ve missed a lot.”
“I’d love to know more about your life, too,” Scott said. He lifted his eyes to meet hers.
One glance took her breath away. “Sure,” Miranda finally said. “Where are those marshmallows?”
L
ATER THAT NIGHT AFTER A DINNER of takeout Chinese food, Miranda slipped upstairs to her room, leaving everyone to retire to Stanton’s den to watch another nature video. She wanted to get a few more poems posted before Thanksgiving. Responsibility to her followers tugged at her. She liked the idea of making someone smile while they basted the turkey or sat through an uncomfortable meal with a tipsy aunt. Even with the door shut, she heard Avery’s pretend complaint that, “Oh, animals are gross.” And the whispers of Lynn’s insistency that, “No, they are not.”
Something about Lynn being there made the whole holiday seem better, more like a holiday should be. Something about her easy laugh and endless excitement reminded Miranda of her mom and how they had celebrated holidays before everything ended.
Miranda pulled out her Scrabble board from home. She dumped the tiles out on her bed and swirled them around. She made random words and tried stringing them together. But nothing made sense. Nothing gelled. They just sat there looking back up at her. On a good night of “writing,” she could fill the board connecting thought after thought in a Scrabble free verse. Today nothing. She leaned back into the plush pillows and closed her eyes. She must have drifted to sleep because when her eyes fluttered awake, Scott was peeking his head into her room.
“Miranda?” he asked.
At first, she couldn’t answer. The whole day slipped from her mind during her rest. Then she remembered. Him. Here. Lynn. “Hey,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Ten thirty. I just wanted to know if you were up for an adventure.”
“An adventure?” She still wasn’t fully awake.
“Wear warm clothes,” he said. He ducked back out of her room.
Downstairs, she found Lynn in her puffy pink parka clutching a long stainless steel thermos.
“Cocoa,” she said holding it up. “Daddy says we’re going to take the train. Mr. Stanton gave us his pass.”
“The train?” Miranda asked.
Scott came up behind her. “We’re going to Central Park.”
“To see the balloons,” Lynn squealed.
“Have fun,” Avery called from the foyer balcony. She had finally switched from her lawyer uniform to a purple terry cloth robe.
“We will?” Miranda asked.
“Yes, we will,” Scott said. He put his hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze before spinning her around toward the door.
The walk from the train station was crisp to say the least. Something about the wind whipping through the tall buildings and the concrete losing all the day’s trapped heat quickly at dusk made walking in Manhattan like walking in a refrigerator. Lynn huddled between them as they walked. Her thick coat and warm boots gave her a wobbly bop; she alternated between bouncing into Scott and bouncing into Miranda.
“You sure you don’t want to take a cab?” Scott asked her.
“I’m sure. Then we wouldn’t see the diamonds,” Lynn said.
“Tiffany’s?” Miranda asked. “You’re a little young for that aren’t you? Though you are Bunny’s granddaughter.”
“Not like Grandma Bunny’s diamonds! The diamonds on the sidewalk. Look!”
Sure enough, the concrete in front of them sparkled. Four or five runs of sidewalk shimmered with mica flecks, then it went to plain for a block or two, then more that sparkled.
“I want to know what makes them different,” Miranda said to Scott, pointing at the abrupt change from sparkle to non-sparkle on the sidewalk in front of them.
“But knowing the difference would ruin it,” Scott said.
“You’d rather think it was magic?”
“I like the idea of magic. Don’t you?” he asked.
“I don’t take much stock in that,” Miranda said.
“Daddy, look!” Lynn said.
And there in front of them was a huge elephant balloon with a circus ball balancing on his trunk. The ball wasn’t all the way inflated yet; it wobbled a little and the sides of the elephant shuddered some as the helium pumped in. But an elephant as tall as a house at Central Park was a sight to behold no matter the size or amount of helium left to go. The crowd around them seemed to holding their breath in anticipation as the ball slowly rose.