“Of course.” She shook her head. “She’d like him if she got to know him.”

“I know. But first impressions die hard.”

Sara was back, carrying a beat-up brown toolbox. “Here.” She set it down on the table. “Sorry,” she added sheepishly.

“I don’t mind if you borrow stuff. Just put it back, please.” He chuckled.

She shrugged. “Sometimes I do. I’m just scatterbrained.”

“Listen,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “nobody who speaks six languages fluently could even remotely be called scatterbrained. You just have a lot on your mind all the time.”

“What a nice way to put it. No wonder you’re my favorite brother!”

He gave Michelle a droll look.

“Well, if I had other brothers, you’d still be my favorite,” Sara amended.

“Are we going to drive some more today?” Michelle asked him hopefully.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said after a minute. He forced a smile. He left, quickly.

Michelle sighed. “I can’t follow orders,” she explained while Sara put water on to boil and got out spaghetti.

“He’s just impatient,” Sara replied. “He always was, even when we were kids.” She shook her head. “Some habits you never grow out of.”

Michelle knew a lot about Sara, and her childhood. But she was too kindhearted to mention any of what Gabriel had told her. She just smiled and asked what she could do to help.

Graduation was only days away. So much had happened to Michelle that she could hardly believe how quickly the time had gone by. Marist College had accepted her, just as Gabriel had told her. She was scheduled for orientation in August, and she’d already had a conversation online with her faculty advisor.

“I’m so excited,” she told Gabriel. They were sitting on the front porch, watching a meteor shower. There were a couple of fireballs, colorful and rare. “I’ll be in college. I can’t believe it.”

He smiled. “You’ll grow. College changes people. You see the world in a different way when you’ve studied courses like Western Civilization and math.”

“I’m not looking forward to the math,” she sighed. “People say college trig is a nightmare.”

“Only if you don’t have a tutor.”

“But I don’t...”

He glanced down at her. “I made straight A’s.”

“Oh.” She grinned. “Okay. Thanks in advance.”

He stretched. “No problem. Maybe you’ll do better at math than you do at driving.”

She thumped his arm. “Stop that. I can drive.”

“Sort of.”

“It takes practice,” she reminded him. “How can I practice if you’re always too busy to ride in the truck with me?”

“You could ask Sara,” he pointed out.

She glowered at him. “I did.”

“And?”