Chapter 10 Cal
Cal
Mom spreads a blanket on the grass while Dad unfolds chairs for the both of them.
, Junie pulls Frankie down next to her on the blanket and climbs into her lap, which sets off a warmth in my chest that I’d call heartburn if it hurt anymore.
I almost laugh at the absurdity of my daughter in her ladybug boots stopping this famous actress from leaving.
Instead, I smile at the sweetness of it.
I also worry. I want to keep Frankie close. This instinct to protect her rises whenever she’s near, but what if my desire to keep her safe confines her instead?
The rest of my family sits down in a haphazard circle, everyone pointed in Frankie’s direction, like she’s the guest of honor—even if some of them still aren’t sure they want her here.
I sit on one side of Frankie, Mom on the other, leaving the camp chair next to Dad empty.
She leans against his legs instead, so Dad can rub her shoulders.
Mom pats Frankie’s legs and says, in her friendly way, “Okay, sweetie. How about a sandwich.”
Dad opens the picnic basket next to him and hands Mom two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper which she holds out to Frankie. “I’ve got turkey, or veggie. What would you like?”
I feel Frankie brace herself, like someone waiting to be charged for the kindness.
“Veggie. Cheers.”
Mom hands her the sandwich marked with a V. I’d bet the ranch it’s the only veggie sandwich in there, since the rest of us have a hate-hate relationship with most vegetables. I wonder if Frankie’s vegetarian. And if she is, I need to join whatever network is feeding Mom all the Frankie info.
My brothers and sister don’t wait for Mom to hand them sandwiches. They descend like locusts pushing and shoving each other out of the way. This is how it’s always been: survival of the fittest. With four boys, if you didn’t get what you could when you could, you were likely to go without.
Cassidy learned early how to fend for herself—how to elbow and punch back. Not in a hateful way. In the way brothers and sisters do, knowing if there’s one place they can be themselves at their best and their worst, it’s with their family.
Frankie looks on, a bit horrified. Hayes takes my spot next to Frankie before I can sit there again. I consider wrestling him. I’d win, but I stop and let him have this one, so I don’t look immature. But also, because Frankie relaxes into a smile and shifts Junie in her lap to hold her closer.
“So, Frankie,” Hayes says, snapping into a carrot, “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
“That’s the best you’ve got?” Bennett chimes in from the other side of the circle. “Been bucked off one too many times, bro? You’ve lost your game.”
He looks from Hayes to Frankie whose mouth twists into a smirk as she turns to Hayes and sits taller. “I’m waiting. Give it another go.”
Everyone laughs—except for Wes and Cassidy. But they have grins trying to escape.
“Why don’t you start by telling her which of her bikinis on Surf City High was your favorite?” Hayes counters, tipping his chin at Bennett.
“You watched that show?” I ask Bennett. I was in college when Surf City was popular, so I missed the phenomenon.
“Religiously.” Cassidy offers with a smirk.
“So, which one was it?” Frankie’s eyes drill into Bennett working their magic on him. His cheeks go red and his mouth gaps open, stunned and speechless.
“Go ahead, Benny. Frankie Forsythe is waiting.” Hayes dishes out his revenge with his widest grin.
Bennett shoots a glare Hayes’s way, then looks shyly at Franke. “The yellow one with the little cherries on it.”
“Bennett, for heaven’s sake. Don’t embarrass our guest.” Mom follows her reprimand by smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the blanket.
“I don’t think she’s the one who’s embarrassed.” Wes taunts Bennett.
Frankie beams. “That was my favorite, too,” she says with a wink at Bennett.
Or Wes. Maybe both. “I picked it out myself and brought it to wardrobe. The stylist gave me different togs to wear, but I ignored her and wore what I wanted. Once we started taping, she couldn’t say anything.
We were already behind shooting that scene. ”
She pulls out a sliced cucumber from her sandwich and takes a bite. She knows exactly what she’s doing to my brothers—not one of the three can take their eyes off her—and she’s enjoying the attention.
The fact is, I can’t take my eyes off her either. All of it gives me one more thing to worry about. The fact I can’t look away and the fact Frankie doesn’t want any of us to. She may have run from the spotlight, but she’s still drawn to it. And it’s drawn to her.
Frankie’s beautiful, but not in a traditional sense.
Her hair’s wild and looks more red than usual in the fading daylight.
Her eyes are big and green but set too far apart.
Freckles dot her nose, and her top lip is fuller than her bottom.
All these things together make her face interesting, if not beautiful.
But she has a spark that makes her impossible to ignore. Even in Flamingo’s with her hair covered in a wig and her eyes hidden behind glasses, Frankie was the first thing I noticed when I walked into the diner after five years away. She’s the thing that’s kept me going back day after day.
Seeing Junie in her lap, though, tugs my emotions in two different directions.
I’m even more drawn to Frankie and this picture of her not just in my life, but in Junie’s too.
At the same time, there are so many things that could pull Frankie away from us.
Not just the call of the spotlight, but her dad, her ex-husband, and the blowback that will come if locals find out she’s behind Sanctuary.
The teasing and talking continue, with Frankie jumping in every once in a while. I can’t help admiring the way she’s handling being thrown into the chaos of my family. She’s relaxed into the situation, and her smile is real. Despite my worries, I like having her here. I like seeing her happy.
After Hayes tells us a story about his latest rodeo where a bull rider got hung up when his spur caught a loose flank strap, the conversation grows quiet. Mom doesn’t like hearing about cowboys getting hurt. She worries nonstop about Hayes when he’s rodeoing.
An owl hoots as dusk settles. Dad turns on the lanterns he brought down, and in the soft light, Cassidy turns to Frankie, clearly conflicted and looking like she’s got something to say. I lean forward in case I have to intervene.
“Listen,” she says sharply. “I shouldn’t have come after you the way I did back at the house.”
“No worries. People have said worse about me.” A subtle shift happens in Frankie’s voice—in her face. She’s all politeness and good manners. Her playfulness is gone. Or, at least, hidden. Tucked away for safety.
Cassidy’s eyes narrow. She feels the shift, too. “I’m trying to apologize here.”
“No need,” Frankie returns, growing more guarded.
“It’s just, you need to understand that—"
“—Frankie’s our guest, Cass,” I warn, trying to keep things friendly.
“That’s right,” Mom says in a soft, warning tone. “We’re eating. We can do hard conversations another day.”
With that, everything rewinds. Cassidy picks apart her sandwich while Frankie shifts toward Hayes who jumps right back into flirting with her quicker than he gets on his feet after being thrown from a bull.
Under the pretense of getting another sandwich, Bennett joins in, too, sitting in front of Frankie.
I catch Wes shifting back and forth, angling for a better view of Frankie now that Ben’s blocking him.
I’m entertained enough by it all, with the way she teases, not quite flirting, but not quite not flirting.
Junie, however, doesn’t like competing for attention. More than once she takes Frankie’s face in her hands and turns it back toward her to ask a question or point out something she’s already shown Frankie.
On her third attempt to win Frankie back from my brothers, I stand. “June Bug, come sit with Daddy. Let Frankie talk.”
“No, Dad. Frankie’s my guest,” she says firmly, wiggling deeper into Frankie’s lap.
Frankie glances at me but keeps talking as she winds her arm around Junie’s waist and gives her a little squeeze.
And I don’t know who I’m more jealous of, my brothers or my kid.
“Do you picnic out here often?” Frankie asks Mom between bites of her sandwich.
“We used to when we were kids,” Bennett answers for her. “Except it wasn’t this fancy. Peanut butter and jelly, and bags of potato chips whenever Mom was too tired to cook.”
“Which was most nights with these five.” Mom draws an accusing finger around our circle, incriminating each of us.
“You didn’t need to go to the work tonight,” Wes—always protective of Mom—grumbles.
“We rarely have visitors. I have to play hostess when I can.” As if to prove her point, Mom passes the container of watermelon to Frankie.
We all burst out laughing—except for Frankie, who looks at us, curious.
“Rarely means we haven’t had anybody out here for a couple weeks,” Bennett explains.
“Jo keeps us pretty booked with visitors.” Dad leans forward to massage Mom’s shoulders again.
“What can I say? I like people.” Mom smiles and leans into Dad’s touch.
“I like Fwankie!” Junie cheers and maneuvers in Frankie’s lap to throw her arms around her neck, nearly bowling both of them over.
“I’m keen on you, too, Junie,” Frankie laughs.
“We all like Frankie, don’t we June?” Mom tickles Junie’s side. “Should we keep her for a while?”
“Yes!” Junie shouts.
Frankie’s smile drops. She’s got that startled look in her eyes again—skittish, like she might bolt, or crumble under all the unexpected affection.
“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Cheers. I like you too.”
“Tell us about your family, Frankie,” Mom says, smoothing over the awkwardness that’s crept in.
“We already know about her dad,” Cassidy says, obviously still smarting from her failed apology.
Frankie colors, and I shoot my sister a warning look.