Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
F rankie woke up in the soft luxury of a California king as a storm ravaged Nantucket Island. She felt woozy and confused yet terribly pleased with herself. Like she’d gone through something very difficult and come out on the other side. She stepped out of bed and went to the window to watch as lightning ratcheted across the dark sky. What time was it? She felt like she’d been sleeping forever. As though she’d crawled out of her bedroom window years ago.
The escape had been spontaneous. Wild. Electrifying. Frankie had texted Zane to tell him that her family was being strange and wasn’t respecting her boundaries. She hadn’t told him her mother had seen all the cash. Immediately, he’d texted: Why don’t you just move in with me? It had sounded so ludicrous. So exciting. He’d driven over at four thirty in the morning with a big ladder and helped her down. Once in the convertible, they’d sped off like Bonnie and Clyde and kissed wildly, even with Zane’s foot on the gas. Frankie had thought, This is the first day of the rest of my life.
She’d given only one thought for the sorrow her mother would have upon waking up.
Now, Frankie searched through Zane’s bed and discovered her phone in need of charging. She’d find a charger somewhere and text her mother to tell her she was all right. She owed her that, even if she couldn’t tell her mother about the money.
The money had really gotten out of control. Frankie had to admit that.
That first Tuesday’s gig had brought her two hundred dollars. But Wednesday had brought along three separate gigs, and Thursday had brought four, and Friday had had six gigs spread out throughout the day. She’d been perpetually on call, ready to leap at a moment’s notice to deliver packages from an inn or a bakery or a coffee shop to the ferry to be taken elsewhere. Because she’d done so well, Zane had increased her payment so much that she’d already made nearly four grand after just a few days of work. At that rate, she was well on her way to funding a brand-new life for herself.
But she didn’t need a new life if she stuck with Zane.
Zane’s beach house was immaculate—and that was coming from a Coleman who’d spent Christmases at the Coleman Estate. It sprawled over the bluffs at the edge of Siasconset and looked out over a frothing and angry ocean. There were eight bathrooms, twelve bedrooms, three kitchens, three pools, a bowling alley, a movie theater, a gorgeous dining room like something from 1700s France, and much more that Frankie didn’t know about yet. This had been Zane’s initial introduction that morning before she’d collapsed in that bed upstairs and slept till now.
Frankie crept downstairs to find she and Zane weren’t alone in the mansion. Zane was having a party.
From the stairwell, just barely hidden, Frankie watched the party rage. There were bottles of vodka and champagne and tequila everywhere—nothing cheap, only the good stuff—and women and men in beautiful clothing and swimsuits, dancing to music and swinging their arms around each other. Occasionally, a few announced they were headed to the other room to do drugs. Frankie’s spine shivered. She’d never done drugs, had never wanted to do drugs, especially because of what her mother had said about Aunt Sophie.
Where am I? How did I get here?
But the minute Zane stepped through the crowd, Frankie forbade herself from thinking negatively. She had to fall into the beauty of the day. She had to remind Zane why he was falling in love with her in the first place.
Frankie hurried downstairs and met Zane in the center of the decadent living room. The minute Zane saw her, he smiled, wrapped her in a hug, and swung her around the room. Everyone watched and cheered. Somebody handed her a glass of champagne. Frankie heard herself asking for a cell phone charger, but nobody heard her; everyone wanted her to celebrate with them.
“Welcome to the factory, honey,” Zane said, setting her down. “It’s like this every day of the week.”
Frankie laughed and eyed the gorgeous women in the room—some of whom were wearing only bikinis or slinky dresses.
Why would Zane ever date me when these women are here? she thought. But she shook it off a second later and reminded herself, What Zane and I have is special. It’s different.
“Zane told us how you escaped your house from a ladder,” a guy who wore sunglasses inside said, coming up beside her. “That’s epic.”
Frankie laughed and sipped her champagne. She told herself to relax.
“Oh! There’s Bernice!” Zane said, stretching an arm out to beckon a woman in her twenties. A woman with thick black hair and a T-shirt that read: Born to Run.
“She’s going to take over your route today,” Zane told Frankie. “We figured you need to rest.” He laughed. “Plus, you said maybe your parents will be out looking for you?”
Frankie’s stomach sloshed with worry. Does that mean he won’t want me anymore? Because I can’t work for him?
But Zane maintained his smile. “Not to worry. If you can’t work here, we have other locations. I’ll come with you. We’re thinking about setting up a base in Savannah. Have you ever been there?”
“Never,” Frankie said.
“Beautiful.” Zane dropped down to kiss her on the cheek. “We’re going to be so happy wherever we go.”
During that first day of hanging and partying at Zane’s beach house, Frankie was able to deduce the following: most everyone referred to Zane as the CEO of the company; they often referred to the company as “The Factory”; Zane’s second-in-command and third-in-command and fourth-in-command were all men, including Greg from the ferry boat that first day. More than anything, it seemed that nobody was willing to discuss what, exactly, Zane’s company did. Frankie learned quickly to stop asking for specifics. She learned quickly to pretend she was drinking faster than she was.
She was offered drugs many times, but she always turned them down. Always.
Zane never pressured her to do anything she didn’t want to do. He’s a good guy.
When the clock struck nine that first night, Frankie remembered to ask for a phone charger and texted her mother to tell her she was all right.
FRANKIE: Hey, Mom. Sorry about last night. I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’ll be home soon.
Immediately, Ida called her. Frankie froze as the phone buzzed and buzzed in her hand. She ignored it and sent an additional text.
FRANKIE: I can’t talk on the phone.
MOM: Pick up the PHONE, FRANKIE.
FRANKIE: I love you, Mom.
Immediately, both Nellie and her father flooded her phone with messages.
NELLIE: We are freaking out. You have got to be KIDDING ME, FRANKIE.
DAD: Hi, honey. Can you give us a call when you get a chance?
Zane spotted her in the corner on the phone and said her name, drawing her out of her anxious thoughts and back into the party.
“Get back out here!” he called. “We’re making margaritas.”
Frankie peered up at him, falling into the dark abyss of his gaze. “One second.”
Frankie turned her phone off. She’d needed them to know she was all right, but that was all she planned to give them right now. They couldn’t understand how essential Zane already was in her life. They were star-crossed lovers and would do anything to be together.
Zane handed her a margarita and hurried across the room to turn up the volume on the speaker system. Frankie sat down on the sofa beside Bernice, who’d handled Frankie’s delivery route. A thick envelope filled with cash sat to the right of her thighs.
“He’s so amazing, isn’t he?” Bernice said.
Frankie’s adrenaline spiked. She reminded herself, Everyone here is in awe of Zane, but I’m the one who gets to date him. I’m the one he scooped up on the Nantucket ferry and brought into his world.
“Yeah. He’s amazing,” Frankie agreed.
“Where did you meet him?” Bernice asked.
Frankie felt woozy as she said, “We met on the ferry. It was so random.” And romantic. She sipped her margarita and asked, “What about you?”
“We met in Manhattan,” Bernice said. “He told me he had all these grand plans. That he wanted to live all over the world. I was totally flailing in the city. I could hardly pay my rent, you know?”
Is she in love with him? Frankie searched Bernice’s face and decided Bernice was delusional if she’d thought she could come to Nantucket and make Zane fall in love with her.
“Now he takes care of all of us,” Bernice said. “It’s incredible. I’ve never had a better time in my life.” Her grin widened, showing too many teeth. “He says you’re going to Savannah?”
“That’s my hope,” Frankie said.
In her mind’s eyes, she’d already imagined her and Zane walking beneath moss-covered ancient oaks in Savannah. She’d already imagined them getting married in a limestone church.
Frankie stayed up till two that morning, drinking margaritas and laughing with Zane’s friends and colleagues—people fast becoming her friends and colleagues. Zane was garrulous, telling stories from his adventures all over the world. It was increasingly difficult to imagine he was any younger than thirty- five. Such was the weight of his life. Frankie craved a life like that. She craved a life of meaning.
Frankie kissed Zane good night and returned to the California king upstairs. Her phone remained off and sat like a brick on the nightstand. Another storm flashed over the island, and she lay propped up on pillows, watching the lightning. It wasn’t until another hour that sleep found her.
Frankie found Zane asleep in bed with her the following morning. Sunlight spilled in through the open window and illuminated his muscular chest, his long legs, and his hand across the left side of his chiseled abdomen. Frankie had never seen him like this before, and the intimacy was startling. For many years, she and Colin had shared a twin-sized mattress and elbowed one another in the face when they rolled over. That wasn’t love.
Frankie padded to the bathroom and returned to find Zane’s eyes open to slits. He smiled, and her heart pumped. She cocooned herself in the blankets with him and kissed his forehead and his nose.
But they couldn’t stay in bed long. Zane explained that there was a mountain of work to be done. “I have to rally the troops,” he said.
Frankie put herself to work in the kitchen making coffee, pouring batter for pancakes, and greeting everyone who’d stayed the night with a chipper, “Good morning! Anything to eat?” She felt dutiful; she felt as though she belonged. It seemed as though anywhere between twelve to twenty people had spent the night at Zane’s beach house last night, and they got up, rubbed their eyes, and ate and ate and ate. They ate whatever Frankie gave them. Initially, Frankie was pleased to find that the fridge and cabinets were stocked with plenty of food, but the situation dwindled quickly, especially after lunch that afternoon.
Frankie mentioned to Zane that they needed groceries, and he clapped his hands and said, “We have a delivery scheduled for later today. Don’t you worry yourself.” He kissed her then, in front of everyone.
These were the most delirious days of Frankie’s life.
They were days that made her question whether the first twenty-three years of her life had happened.
They were days that made her feel—finally—as though she belonged.
She could have kept up this life forever.
But on the third day at the beach house, everything changed.