Dawn had barely broken when Mira hefted her small suitcase onto the wooden bench at Willowbrook's bus stop. The station was little more than a weathered shelter at the edge of town, rarely used except by the occasional visitor or the few young people who'd chosen education or employment in larger towns.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-soaked grass and distant farmland. Mira pulled her light jacket tighter around her shoulders, watching her breath form small clouds in the cool air. September mornings in Willowbrook always had this biting chill that gave way to warmer afternoons.
"You've got your ticket? And the address Sophia gave you?" Martha fussed, checking Mira's bag for the third time that morning.
"Yes, Mom," Mira reassured her with a patient smile. "And the emergency money, and Sophia's phone number, and the map of the city transit system."
Robert stood a few paces back, hands deep in the pockets of his work jeans, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation. He'd said little during breakfast, but Mira knew her decision to visit Sophia weighed heavily on him.
"The Hendersons promised to help with the harvest preparation if you're not back in time," he said finally. "But don't you worry about that. Just... be careful in that city. People there aren't like us."
Mira nodded, having heard variations of this warning throughout the week since she'd confirmed her plans with Sophia. Her sister had been ecstatic, immediately sending detailed instructions for reaching her apartment in Highland Heights, along with emphatic recommendations for clothing and accessories Mira should bring.
Mira had studied the letter with growing confusion. Half the items Sophia suggested were things she didn't own designer labels and makeup brands that had never found their way to Willowbrook's general store. In the end, she'd packed her best clothes: a sundress for warm days, a modest navy blue dress that her mother insisted was appropriate for any formal occasion, and practical separates for everyday wear.
"The bus is coming," Martha said suddenly, her voice tight as she spotted the approaching vehicle at the bend in the road. "Oh, Mira..."
Her mother pulled her into a fierce hug, and Mira breathed in the familiar scent of baking bread and lavender soap. "I'll be fine, Mom. It's only two weeks."
"Call us when you arrive," Robert said, stepping forward to embrace her awkwardly, his work-hardened hands gentle on her shoulders. "And remember, you can come home anytime if things don't... if Sophia isn't..."
"I know, Dad." Mira smiled reassuringly, though her own stomach was tight with nervous anticipation. "I'll call tonight."
The bus wheezed to a stop before them, its doors folding open with a mechanical sigh. The driver, a middle aged man with a weathered face, nodded at them. "Morning. Heading to Capital City?"
"Yes," Mira confirmed, suddenly feeling the weight of her decision as reality set in. She was leaving Willowbrook, the only home she'd known, for the first time in her twenty-two years.
She hugged her parents once more, then climbed aboard, selecting a window seat that would allow her to wave goodbye. As the bus pulled away, she kept her eyes on the diminishing figures of her parents until the road curved and they disappeared from view. Only then did she allow herself to acknowledge the conflicting emotions churning within her—excitement, trepidation, and a whisper of guilt at the relieved freedom she felt.
The bus journey would take nearly four hours, with several stops in small towns similar to Willowbrook before reaching the sprawling metropolis of Capital City. As farmland gave way to more populated areas, Mira's hand unconsciously rose to the pendant beneath her blouse. The familiar contours of the silver piece had always brought her comfort in moments of uncertainty.
She thought back to the day before, when she'd been packing and Martha had entered her bedroom with a small wooden box.
"I've been saving this," her mother had said, opening the box to reveal a set of old photographs. "These were with you when you came to us. I thought... well, I thought you might want to take them with you."
The photos were few and faded a smiling young couple standing before a garden gate, the woman holding a bundle that must have been infant Mira; another of the same couple sitting on a park bench, both looking at the camera with gentle expressions. The woman wore a pendant identical to Mira's.
"My birth parents," Mira had whispered, carefully touching the edge of the photo.
Martha had nodded. "Emma and James, according to the paperwork. They died in that terrible accident when you were just six months old. No other family came forward, so you came to us." She'd hesitated before adding, "The social worker mentioned they were city folk, originally. Well-educated, apparently."
It was the most Martha had ever revealed about Mira's origins. She'd always known she was adopted, but details had been scarce, and she'd never pushed for more, content with the love of the only parents she could remember.
Now, watching the landscape gradually transform outside the bus window, Mira wondered if some unconscious part of her was seeking connection to those origins. Perhaps that was partly why Sophia's invitation had pulled so strongly at her.
Sophia. The thought of her sister brought a complicated mixture of emotions. Two years older than Mira, Sophia had always been the restless one, the dreamer who found farm life stifling and provincial. While Mira connected with the rhythms of nature and found purpose in nurturing growing things, Sophia had yearned for excitement and recognition that Willowbrook could never provide.
Mira closed her eyes, memories washing over her. Sophia sneaking fashion magazines into their shared bedroom, poring over them by flashlight and cutting out pictures of glamorous women to paste on the wall behind her bed. Sophia at sixteen, experimenting with makeup ordered secretly through mail catalogs, practicing sophisticated accents when she thought no one was listening. Sophia arguing tearfully with Robert and Martha about attending the community college two towns over, insisting she was meant for more than rural education could offer.
And finally, Sophia at nineteen, boarding this very same bus line with two suitcases and fierce determination, barely looking back as she left for Capital City with vague plans of finding work in fashion or entertainment.
The first year, Sophia had called weekly, her initial excitement gradually giving way to frustrated accounts of menial jobs and cramped shared apartments. Then the calls became monthly, her tone increasingly guarded when asked about her living situation or employment. By the second year, they heard from her only on holidays, receiving carefully worded updates that revealed little about her actual circumstances.
And now, suddenly, this invitation, bursting with enthusiasm about her "gorgeous apartment" and prestigious social connections. What had changed? Had Sophia truly "made it," as she claimed? Or was there more to this unexpected reunion?
The bus jolted over a pothole, startling Mira from her thoughts. Outside, the landscape had transformed dramatically. Small towns had given way to expanding suburbs, and now they were entering the outskirts of Capital City itself. Mira pressed closer to the window, eyes widening at the rows of identical houses that stretched as far as she could see, gradually yielding to taller buildings as they approached the city center.
"First time in the city?" asked an elderly woman who had taken the seat beside Mira at the last stop.
"Is it that obvious?" Mira smiled sheepishly.
The woman chuckled. "You've got that wide-eyed look. Don't worry, everyone does their first time. Where are you headed?"
"Highland Heights," Mira replied. "To visit my sister."
The woman's eyebrows rose slightly. "Fancy neighborhood, that. Your sister must be doing well for herself."
Mira nodded, uncertain how to respond. Sophia had emphasized the prestigiousness of her address in their phone conversation, but the woman's reaction suggested it might be even more exclusive than Mira had imagined.
As they ventured deeper into the city, buildings grew taller and closer together, casting long shadows over the streets below. People hurried along sidewalks in business attire, many with phones pressed to their ears or coffee cups clutched in their hands. The sheer number of people was overwhelming more than Mira would see in a month in Willowbrook.
"Highland Heights is the next stop after Central Square," the woman informed her, gathering her belongings as the bus approached her destination. "Best of luck to you, dear. The city can be wonderful or terrible, depending on what you're looking for in it."
With that cryptic advice, she disembarked, leaving Mira alone with her thoughts and growing nervousness. Twenty minutes later, the bus stopped at Central Square, a bustling plaza surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers and high end shops. Most passengers exited here, but Mira remained seated, clutching her suitcase tightly.
When the bus finally reached Highland Heights, Mira stepped out into a different world. The streets were immaculately clean, lined with ornate streetlamps and carefully tended trees in decorative planters. The buildings were elegant art deco structures with doormen stationed at their entrances. Well dressed people strolled unhurriedly along the sidewalks, many accompanied by small, purebred dogs.
Following Sophia's detailed directions, Mira walked three blocks to The Harrington, supposedly her sister's residence. She paused before the imposing building, its marble facade and gilded entryway more suited to a luxury hotel than an apartment complex. Gathering her courage, she approached the uniformed doorman.
"Excuse me," she said hesitantly. "I'm here to see Sophia Evans in apartment 12B."
The doorman surveyed her with a polite but evaluating gaze, taking in her simple clothing and small suitcase. "Your name, miss?"
"Mira Evans. I'm her sister."
He nodded slightly, then picked up a phone mounted beside the door. "Miss Evans, there's a Mira Evans here to see you. Says she's your sister." A pause. "Very good, miss."
Replacing the receiver, he opened the door for her. "Miss Evans will meet you in the lobby. Just through here, please."
Mira stepped into a marble floored lobby adorned with fresh flower arrangements and plush seating areas. A chandelier cast sparkling light across the space, which was occupied by a few residents reading newspapers or conversing quietly. She stood awkwardly with her suitcase, feeling painfully out of place in her simple traveling clothes.
"Mira!"
The voice was Sophia's, but the woman hurrying toward her seemed almost a stranger. Sophia's once wild chestnut hair was now sleekly styled in an elegant bob, highlighted with subtle gold tones. She wore a tailored cream suit that emphasized her slender figure, accessorized with delicate gold jewelry. Even her walk had changed the casual farm girl stride replaced by graceful, measured steps in high heeled shoes.
"Oh my God, look at you!" Sophia embraced her briefly, the scent of expensive perfume enveloping Mira. "You haven't changed a bit."
Mira returned the hug, noticing how her sister held her body slightly away, as if afraid of wrinkling her immaculate outfit. "Neither have you," she lied, struggling to reconcile this polished woman with the sister she remembered.
Sophia laughed, a practiced sound that bore little resemblance to her once boisterous mirth. "Don't be ridiculous. I've changed completely, thank goodness." She lowered her voice, taking Mira's arm. "Come on upstairs. You must be exhausted from that dreadful bus ride."
As they crossed the lobby toward the elevators, Mira felt Sophia subtly guiding her to walk straighter, to match her graceful pace. The pendant seemed to grow heavier against her chest a reminder of who she was and where she came from, even as she stepped into her sister's unfamiliar world.
In the gilded elevator ascending to the twelfth floor, Mira caught their reflection in the mirrored wall two sisters standing side by side, one sculpted by city sophistication, the other still bearing the simple grace of rural life. Both carried the same facial features, the same chestnut hair, though Mira's fell in natural waves while Sophia's was artificially straightened. But their eyes were different; Mira's were amber, unusual and distinctive, while Sophia's were a more common hazel.
"You're going to love it here," Sophia declared as the elevator doors opened to a plush hallway. "I've got so much to show you, so many people for you to meet." She flashed a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "This is going to be the most exciting two weeks of your life, little sister. I promise you that."
As they approached apartment 12B, Mira couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping not just into Sophia's home, but into a carefully constructed illusion one that might begin to unravel with her arrival. What secrets lay behind her sister's newfound prosperity? And why, after years of minimal contact, had Sophia suddenly decided to open her door?
The answer, Mira sensed, lay beyond that threshold, in a world as foreign to her as the pendant around her neck was to the Salvador legacy she had yet to discover.