Free The Family You Choose by Deborah Nam-Krane Page A

the most part it hadn’t mattered for the face of what Michael
had become. But here, in this room, was the ghost of the man
Michael could have been. Miranda smiled as she looked at the
handsome red-haired man, whose face she had seen many times in
pictures in Alex’s study. And now he seemed so much more familiar.
She stifled a tear as she realized why. He had the same face as his
son.
    Michael burst in. "Alright girls, enough
rifling through my things, if you don’t mind. Richard and Alex are
done with the veiled threats, so I think we can eat now." Miranda
and Zainab rolled their eyes behind Michael’s back as they all
walked out, and Miranda was relieved that Michael had stayed true
to form.
    Michael was not a bad cook, but generally it
was difficult to ruin such expensive cuts of beef if you had some
working knowledge of a kitchen. Zainab tried to force some small
talk with Alex and Michael, then gave up and started chatting up
Miranda about summer co-ops and fall classes. But no matter how
much the two of them talked, the tension between the men was
inescapable.
    By the time Michael brought out the chocolate
mousse, Miranda and Zainab had given up and simply traded looks,
then looked at the men eating silently. Suddenly Miranda burst out
laughing, and everyone looked at her. She tried to stifle it, but
she couldn’t help it. She apologized and excused herself into the
kitchen. Zainab was right behind her.
    "What’s so funny?"
    "I just couldn’t stop thinking about Mitch
all of a sudden."
    "Maybe you shouldn’t have worked so hard to
put him together with Emily then since he’s off the market
now."
    "Oh please. Not that way. I was just thinking
about how angry he was with me," she wiped tears from her eyes, but
still laughed. "I don’t think he could even look at me, much less
talk to me. And now no one’s talking tonight. Do you think Mitch
would get a kick out of that?"
    Miranda laughed and cried a little bit more.
Zainab put her arm around her waist. "Hey, Mitch was a jerk, okay?
Emily told me they got into a little fight right after they
left."
    "Boy, can I throw a party, or what?"
    "Mitch doesn’t get it, but Emily does. And I
do. And no one blames you."
    "So does that mean Mitch is a jerk, or that
we should welcome Emily into our society of misfits?"
    "No, I don’t think I want Emily in the club."
Michael had come in, carrying empty dessert bowls. "So I guess this
means nothing was wrong with the mousse?"
    "No, Michael," Miranda said, wiping the last
of her tears. "Everything is fine."
    "Zainab, I think I need a word alone with
Miranda. You don’t mind do you?"
    Zainab looked at Michael, but he was looking
at Miranda. And Miranda looked in Michael’s direction as if he
weren’t there. "Of course," Zainab said, squeezing Miranda’s waist
before she let go. "But I’ll be right outside the door."
    The swinging door closed behind Zainab.
Miranda reluctantly looked at Michael. "If you have something that
you need to say to me without anyone else hearing it, this has to
be good."
    "I wanted you to see my home."
    "I’ve seen it. It’s actually a few blocks
from here."
    "That was never my home."
    "What do you want? It could have been your
home, but you did everything you could to make sure it wasn’t.
Congratulations. Now you have your real home back, and I really
hope you’re very happy here."
    "Didn’t you ever wonder about where you came
from?"
    "Yes, I have. One of the nicest places in
Massachusetts."
    "Not just the place but the people, the
memories, the habits—the things that fill a place and make it a
home. Ever notice that Richard never really had one?" Michael was
ten inches away from her now.
    "You do know that you had something to do
with that, right?"
    Michael shook his head. "It was always like
that. Lucy and Jim never liked each other—at least, Lucy never
liked Jim. She never liked anything. Even Richard. Sometimes
especially Richard."
    "So much would be explained if you and
Richard