Chapter 15
FRANKIE
“He’s ruined everything else. He doesn’t get to ruin my senior year, too.”
I’m driving Livvie to Napa High, even though Charlie and I told our little sister she could skip school if she wanted.
We thought a break might give her some time to deal with everything that’s been going on, and there are only a few weeks left until winter vacation anyway.
But Livvie was adamant. She said she didn’t want to miss any of the reviews before midterm exams, insisting she’d finish the quarter with her usual straight As, come hell or high water.
It’s about an hour and ten minutes to NHS, so we left extra early and hit the Starbucks drive thru before hitting the road this morning.
Our breakfast sandwiches are long gone, though Livvie ate half of mine, but my little sister is still fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on her cup while she stares out the car window.
Even though she’s tried her best to put on a happy face, it’s obvious that everything is weighing heavily on her—and I hate that I don’t know how to make it better.
I still see red every time I mentally replay that horrible scene with the men who came to the winery to take the Friesians. Which Dad still hasn’t apologized for.
In fact, he hasn’t reached out at all. Of course he hasn’t. Slow clap for Absentee Father of the Year.
It’s infuriating the way he’s left Livvie without a positive male influence in her life.
I know how I felt growing up without one.
And look what happened—I eloped with the first man who threw any attention at me, married him without a second thought.
His bullshit promises to take care of me were like my own personal aphrodisiac. I don’t want that for my sister.
Unfortunately, solid father figures don’t exactly fall from the sky when you need them.
Although…now that I think about it, I might know someone who fits the bill.
After I drop Livvie off at the school’s front doors, I watch her disappear into the teeming rush of teenagers and overstuffed backpacks, and then go park in the lot.
It’s been years since I walked these halls, and I can’t help but smile as I make my way to the front office. School was my sanctuary, though I never fully appreciated that until after I’d graduated.
When I ask the admin behind the curved reception desk if I can visit Mr. Matthews, my old school counselor, she smiles. “Mr. Matthews is no longer a counselor here,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, deflating. “Do you know if he transferred somewhere else, or—”
“He is Vice Principal Matthews now,” she clarifies. “And I happen to know that he’s free.”
She has me sign in on a clipboard and then motions me down the hall. As I knock on his door, I briefly wonder if he’ll remember me. I’m sure he’s seen thousands of students pass through NHS during his time here.
“Come on in,” he calls out. Just the sound of his voice is a comfort.
When I step into his office, a welcoming smile spreads across his face.
“Hello.”
“Francesca Abbott. What a nice surprise.”
“You remember me,” I say, pleased.
“How could I forget? You might be the only student I’ve ever had who never ducked into my office as an excuse to cut class,” he teases.
Mr. Matthews is an older man with dark skin and warm brown eyes, though he has a lot more grey at his temples than he used to.
He was always a steady presence when I went to school here, and though I hadn’t visited him often—usually just to choose my electives or get my class schedules in order—I can honestly say that I’ve never felt as comfortable with any other man.
He gestures for me to take the seat across from him. “So. What can I do for you, Frankie?”
Haltingly, I remind him of how he’d reached out to me when I was a student at NHS. “I guess you’d surmised that things…weren’t so easy at home. And you offered counseling. You also said I could stop by any time if I needed a break from class.”
Nodding, he says, “My door’s always open. That goes for all the kids here, even the ones who aren’t on my roster. Although everyone’s on my roster now.”
“Congratulations on the promotion, by the way,” I tell him.
“Thank you.”
I lean forward. “So here’s the thing…I didn’t take you up on your offer at the time, but I realize now that I should have taken the help.”
“No hard feelings,” he says kindly. “Looks like you’ve turned out just fine.”
“Yeah. But I guess I was just wondering…” It takes me a second to gather my thoughts, and my courage. “I’m wondering if I might be able to take you up on your offer now. Only not for myself, but for my sister.”
“Olivia Abbott. Great student, great attitude. What’s going on?”
The sincerity in his eyes makes me feel more confident, and I explain a little bit about our situation—not the worst of it, of course, but enough to give him an idea of what Livvie’s going through.
“Maybe you could look out for her?” I ask. “Let her know…you know. That you’re here. That she has someone she can talk to.”
He spreads his hands. “Of course. I’m happy to help, however I can.”
“She could use a good male influence, Mr. Matthews. She needs to see…what that’s like. I didn’t have any good men in my life, and it’s—I’ve made some choices I regret. I don’t want Livvie to end up like me or Charlie.”
His expression gets more serious. “Is she safe?”
“Yes. She’s living with our older sister. Indefinitely. It’s just been an adjustment.”
“Okay. Good, then. I’ll reach out to her this week.” He pauses, seeming to mull something over. “You know, I can still help you, too, Frankie. If you want.”
I laugh. “I appreciate that, Mr. Matthews. But my fate is sealed. It’s too late for me.”
Deep lines mar his forehead as he looks at me. “Any life can be changed. It’s never too late.”
I wave him off. “Livvie’s the important one. What I’ve done, I’ve done for her. Please. Help her.”
He reaches across the desk and lightly pats my hand. “I will. I promise you that. And I appreciate you dropping in to visit me—always good to see my old students again. Stop by any time.”
I thank him again and leave, feeling marginally better for the first time in a long time. If only the nervous rolling in my stomach would stop.
Ever since I got Dante’s text last night, my stomach’s been a pit of nauseous dread.
I assume that settling things “once and for all” means he’s ready to serve me legal paperwork nullifying our marriage, or maybe he’s found some loophole he can use to assert his claim on the Abbott Winery.
Whatever he has in mind, it can’t be good.
I spend the short drive over to Bellanti Vineyards trying to calm myself down, and failing utterly.
I’m leaning against the parked car staring at the door to the Bellanti offices (and gathering my courage to go inside) when I spot Candi coming out of the tasting room.
She smiles, looking like she wants to talk, but I wave her off with a friendly smile of my own, starting resolutely down the gravel drive toward the offices. I’m afraid if I stop for chitchat, I’m going to completely lose my nerve.
But Candi doesn’t get the hint and hurries over to intercept me before I reach the door.
“Frankie! It’s so good to see you.” She throws her arms around me in a bear hug that almost has me breaking down. Lowering her voice, she adds, “Are you on your way to see Dante, by any chance?”
“Actually, yes. Why? Did you need something from him? Because I don’t think I’m the best person to be asking him for any favors right now—”
“No, no. Not at all. I just…look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I know it’s not good. Which is none of my business, and that’s okay, but I thought I should give you a heads-up that Dante’s been a beast for the past few days according to the staff.”
“So what else is new?” I quip.
“Seriously,” Candi commiserates. “But yeah. I was supposed to meet with him a half hour ago, but he never showed. Apparently he left the office in a rush earlier and never came back. Said he had to take care of something at the house.”
“That’s weird. And rude, considering you had a meeting scheduled with him.”
Candi shrugs. “Too bad, I had to meet with Armani instead…”
“Doesn’t seem like you were too put out,” I say, picking up on her dreamy look.
“Do not get me started,” she says. “I could meet with Armani Bellanti all day long. That man isn’t just eye candy—he’s the entire candy store. Perfection.”
With that, she gives her fingers the classic chef’s kiss, and I can’t help laughing along with her.
“Okay, well, thanks for the intel,” I say, feeling a little less panicked thanks to Candi’s sassiness. “I’d better go find him before he disappears off to somewhere else.”
After a few more words of encouragement and another hug, she heads to her car. I take a deep, steadying breath and then turn on my heel and take the path toward the main house.
The front door is locked, which is odd—it’s the first time I’ve ever encountered that during the day—so I go around to the back door.
Hopefully Alain will let me in if he’s working in the kitchen.
I’m just about to check the door handle when I hear a faint voice speaking in Italian from an open window somewhere. Huh.
I follow the sound around the other side of the house, until I’m close enough to the window to catch the sound of the deep male voice culminating in a, “Bellissima, Jessica.”
It’s like I’m compelled to stand on my tiptoes and peer over the sill, and it only takes half a second’s glance to see my nemesis on her knees across the room. She sits back and licks her lips like a satisfied cat. She’s practically purring.
My throat burns with bile. I’ve been nauseous with worry all morning, and now I’m flooded with a sickening rage that pushes me over the edge. I bolt for the hedges that line the walkway and lose what little breakfast I had into the bushes.
I’m shaking all over as I stalk back to the car. God damn him. Right to hell. And damn me for feeling this way. I’m the married one, after all. Dante doesn’t owe his loyalty to anyone. Fuck, fuck, fuck these stupid feelings.
I get in the car and slam the door, then slump down in the driver’s seat, hands over my face. I can’t do this.
I dig my phone out of my bag and send Dante a text.
My husband and I will meet with you tomorrow morning to discuss the terms of our arrangement. 9 a.m. We’ll finish everything.