10. Frankie
TEN
Frankie
“I was able to improve the company’s ROI on ad spend by nearly ten percent last quarter.” I continued to list off one impressive stat after another as a middle-aged man with a sour expression nodded while writing them down.
Even though I had on a short-sleeve turtleneck sweater, I was burning up. The shirt had started to stick to my skin in the worst way, and I said a silent thank you that it was black. Even if I was sweating my ass off, the interviewer wouldn’t be able to tell.
“That’s impressive, Frances,” he said.
I winced at the sound of my full name. Even though I had told him I go by Frankie at the beginning of the interview, he didn’t seem to remember—or care.
I let it go, though, because I needed to nail this interview. It was like I had blinders on to anything else around me.
This position was far from my dream job. It was a level down in title and in pay. And to top it all off, it was located in Madison, Wisconsin. After applying to every job possible in the metro Atlanta area, I had decided to expand my search. At this point, I was open to moving anywhere. But Wisconsin? It wasn’t exactly a prime location for me. The brutal winters alone were enough to give me pause.
But times were tough and opportunities were scarce. This was my first interview beyond the basic phone screening with HR. So even though I wasn’t sure I was all that interested in the job, I felt desperate—no, hungry—to move on in the process.
He asked me a few more basic questions, to which I responded with what I thought were solid answers. By the time we hung up, I felt pretty confident that I’d killed it.
I blew out a sigh of relief as I closed my laptop. Crushing interviews made me feel a little bit like myself again. I was at home in conference rooms, with a slide deck prepared and a captivated audience of my coworkers. I lived for things people dreaded, like performance reviews and presentations. It had only been a few weeks since I’d been let go, but it was like that person was already fading away.
My phone dinged.
Oliver: How’s the wrist? ;)
Frankie: Excruciatingly painful, but I’ll survive.
Oliver: You’re so brave.
Frankie: I try.
Oliver: I have an idea for our next little funventure.
Frankie: Does it involve creating a vision board for your future? Because that sounds like fun to me.
Oliver: Ew
“Frankie?” Mattie called out from the stairway.
“I’m done,” I called back, stuffing my phone into my pocket.
“Come upstairs and hang out. Giles made some popcorn on the stove.”
As she said the words, the heavenly scent of butter and salt drifted into the basement. Right on cue, my stomach rumbled.
“Coming,” I shouted, heading for the stairs and rushing up them.
Mattie waited for me at the top, holding out a bowl. I took it from her and followed her through the kitchen and into the living room. Giles was already there, sprawled out on the couch, his dirty-blond hair tucked into a worn beanie.
“We just started a movie.” Mattie plopped onto the couch and nestled into her husband.
My heart swelled a little at the sight as I took the open armchair. My sister had always dreamed of getting married. She had wasted so much time with her asshole ex that I used to worry she might never wake up and realize her worth. But when she’d found someone as solid as Giles to start a life with, I was thrilled. He might not be a man of many words, but he—without the tiniest, solitary doubt—loved my sister more than anything. I could see it in the way he carefully pressed her into his side.
“I don’t want to interrupt your date night,” I said. But my eyes were already glued to the TV as I shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
“It’s fine,” Giles said, pressing play on whatever action-comedy movie they’d selected .
I hoped they didn’t mind me crashing their little family of two. Growing up, Mattie and I had always been close. So when I got laid off and booked the ticket, overstaying my welcome hadn’t even flittered through my mind. But now that I’d been here a while without an end in sight, I really should make sure I wasn’t imposing. Mattie would never ask me to leave, and Giles would never ask Mattie to ask me to leave. He’d do anything for her—and that included putting up with her directionless sister.
“I’m just glad I finally got you out of that dungeon,” Mattie added. “You’ve been down there literally all day.”
“I heard lack of sunlight actually helps you find employment quicker,” Giles deadpanned.
“Oh, you’re making jokes now, huh?” I teased.
He chuckled and shrugged.
“I resent that comment,” I added. “I get out plenty. I work at Marie’s almost every night, and I went snowboarding a few days ago, thank you very much.
“And what a success that was,” Mattie said, laughing.
I flexed my wrist a few times on instinct, a smile playing on my lips. Faking was such a strong word, but I had known there was nothing wrong with my wrist other than maybe it would be a little sore the next day. But I had been so sick of falling on my butt in front of Oliver, I had jumped at the chance to visit the medic. Perhaps I should be embarrassed that Oliver seemed to see right through me to my true motives, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated being bad at things. Snowboarding was a masochist’s sport anyway. Who was the first person that strapped a board to their feet and was like, yes, this is how I want to send myself down the mountain—who cares how many times I fall?
The movie had barely finished rolling the opening credits when Mattie shifted on the couch to look at me. “How did the interview go?” she asked.
“I think I killed it.”
“Are you interested in the job though? Didn’t you say it was below what you were doing before?”
My chest burned like that was somehow a dig at me and my skills, even though she was only repeating what I had told her.
“That’s the way the job market is right now,” I said.
“But you shouldn’t take the first thing that comes along if it’s all wrong for you.”
“Or I take it and then figure out a contingency plan later.” I tossed another piece of popcorn into my mouth. “It’s always easier to find a job when you have a job.”
“I guess.” I knew my sister, and I could hear the doubt in her voice as if she were screaming it. “I just know how hard you worked to get to where you were. I hate the thought of you backsliding.”
The movie that I had honestly forgotten about paused.
“Why did you pause it?” Mattie asked.
Giles looked between the two of us. “I thought you two were talking.”
“I was watching,” Mattie insisted.
“Same,” I agreed.
He raised a skeptical eyebrow but pressed play.
“And I’m not backsliding,” I continued.
“That’s what it sounds like,” Mattie argued.
Giles let out an audible sigh but didn’t attempt to press pause on the movie again.
“Look, I don’t even know if I made it to the next step yet. At the very least, it was practice. Stop being overbearing.”
I had been waiting for Mattie to overstep like this. Just because she had her life all figured out, she felt like she could impose some sisterly wisdom on me.
She shot me a disapproving look. “You’re beating yourself up trying to find something. I want you to know that it’s okay to take time for yourself.”
Easy for her to say. When her life had imploded, she’d moved to Key Ridge right away and ended up falling in love and finding this whole new idyllic life. Not all of us were living in a fantasy.
“Chill, Mattie. Frankie will figure it out.” Giles’s words were so soft I almost didn’t hear them. I flashed him a grateful smile, and he acknowledged it with a small nod.
Mattie glared between the two of us as if we had committed some sort of betrayal. “Okay, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“I’m sure that resolution will last all of one day,” I joked, feeling vindicated when Giles let out a small chuckle.
Mattie held up her hands in defeat. “Alright, if you two start ganging up on me, I’m moving out.”
“Did you send that table a whiskey and Coke?” Bev asked, holding up a brown beverage in a small glass.
“Yes?” I said it like a question as I toweled off the bar. While I was getting a little bit better at making drinks and multitasking behind the bar, I think it was safe to say I was not meant for the service industry.
It was too damn hard.
“Taste this,” Bev insisted, grabbing a straw off the bar and inserting it into the drink.
I took a sip and winced. “Yuck,” I said as soon as the sharp taste of tequila mixed with Coke hit my tongue .
Bev raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I know I haven’t been bartending much longer than you have, but I can’t say I’ve poured a lot of tequila Cokes in my time.”
She was the most chill boss I’d ever had. She never berated me for making mistakes or threatened to fire me over my obvious lack of skills. She was no pushover, but she took everything in stride. It made the fact that the rest of my life wasn’t going so great right now feel a little less sucky.
“My bad,” I said, hurriedly grabbing a new glass and double-checking that the bottle I picked up was indeed whiskey before pouring the drink. “I’m having an off day.”
Bev gave me a gentle, understanding smile, the corners of her eyes creasing a little. Bev had quickly made me feel right at home here. Even though it was Mattie who’d married into her family and not me, I still felt like she was my extended aunt or something.
Bev gave my shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. “Mattie told me you didn’t get a job or something like that?”
“Of course she did.” My stomach soured that Bev already knew about my rejection. The interview I’d spent the entire week preparing for—the only one I’d been granted since applying—had already sent me an email this morning, letting me know I wouldn’t be moving on to the next round. Despite the fact that I had answered every question flawlessly, made polite small talk, and that I was overqualified for the role. None of that had been enough.
“Their loss,” Bev said, taking in my forlorn expression.
I’d already spent the morning distraught and crying over this. I refused to tear up again, especially not in such a public setting. I had to keep it together.
“That’s nice of you to say, but you don’t even know me that well.” I sounded small, but all this rejection was starting to take its toll on me. Bev’s kind eyes made me feel like I could just curl up into a ball in her presence.
“I know enough,” she said, leaning against the bar. “And I know what those God-awful corporations are like. Enough of them have tried to purchase this lodge over the years. It’s always the same. A bunch of out-of-touch older men whose only personality trait is their career. You should wear it like a badge of honor that you don’t fit in there.”
I opened my mouth to protest but quickly shut it. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in Bev’s eyes when I explained that I, in fact, fit in perfectly with that crowd. Or at least, I used to.
“Thanks,” I said instead, desperately needing this conversation to end.
“At least you’re here. Key Ridge is a great place to heal and recoup.”
“I do like it here,” I murmured wistfully.
“Think you might stay?” Bev asked. I must have looked taken aback because Bev shook her head, laughing. “Geez, I asked if you were planning to stay and you’re looking at me like it’s some sort of death sentence.”
“No, I’m not,” I insisted, although I’m sure my expression hadn’t been far off from that description.
Bev leaned a hip against the bar and crossed her arms.
Before I could say anything else, the bell above the front door chimed. Oliver waved at me before stomping some of the snow off his boots on the front door mat. Seeing him almost instantly lifted the dark cloud that had been floating around me all morning.
It had only been a few days since my snowboarding career had started and ended, and he’d come into Marie’s every night for dinner or a drink. He’d sit at the bar and we’d talk a little. I was immensely grateful he was always around .
During our chats, I’d also tried to glean more information about him and his personal life, but he’d deflected every time. At first, I’d taken Oliver at face value. He was a fun-loving, good-hearted guy. But now, as we talked more, I realized he never shared anything about himself. Helping him with any sort of goal planning was going to be a lot harder than I thought it’d be.
“Look who it is,” Bev said. “Our new regular.”
Oliver’s broad smile wavered slightly when he approached and took in my sullen expression, which made me stand up a little straighter.
“Or should I say our new occasional regular,” Bev whispered to me, giving me a little nudge. “Funny how his visits line up exactly with your shifts every night.”
“It’s when he gets off work,” I said, attempting not to blush at Bev’s implication.
He sauntered over to the bar, shaking his navy jacket off and setting it on one of the hooks underneath the bar top. “Hey.” Oliver scootched onto the barstool across from me and took off his beanie to set it on the table in front of him.
Bev passed a glance between the two of us. “Oliver. How’s the snow out there?” she asked.
“Soft. Beautiful. Decadent.” He flung a hand up theatrically and waved it around. “A perfect spring day.”
Bev laughed. “You’re always a ball of sunshine. I’ll be sad to see you go when the season is over.”
“I’ll be sad to leave.” Oliver pretended to pout.
My stomach sank a little in response. I had no reason to care that the season was winding down and Oliver would soon be on his way. Honestly, when I’d first met him, I figured I’d be the one leaving long before he did. Too bad reality had other plans in mind for me. I wasn’t any closer to landing my next job than I’d been when I first got here. And now, the thought of Oliver leaving? The only positive thing in an otherwise bleak chapter in my life? Well, let’s just say I didn’t love the idea.
“Headed back to your house in Denver?” Bev asked.
“Nah. I’ve got renters in my house all year. I’ll have to figure something else out.”
My ears perked up at that. I knew Oliver had moved here from Denver, but a house?
“I’m sure you will.” Bev gave a small nod and excused herself to check on the kitchen.
My eyebrows shot up before I could even attempt to contort my face into a neutral expression. “ You own a house?” I asked, surprise leaking into my tone. Oliver had the whole, kid-at-heart routine down pat. Homeowner was not a phrase I had ever imagined would describe him.
He tilted his chin in my direction as if reading my mind. “Yes, I do, thank you very much. I don’t appreciate how shocked you look right now. Is it so wild to think that I might be financially responsible?”
Yes.
“Of course not,” I said, trying to save face. “You just never mentioned it so…I don’t know. I guess you seemed more like the type that would live out of a van than a house.”
He pretended to look thoughtful for a moment. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he finally said. “But vanlife isn’t for me. Not a lot of headspace for people over six foot three and I need to stretch out, ya know?” To demonstrate his point, he clasped his hands together and reached over his head, his chest puffing out in the process.
My cheeks reddened. “Sorry, right.” I stuttered over my words, tearing my eyes away from his face. “Obviously you could own a house. I just never thought about it before, but it makes sense. I mean, you had to live somewhere before this, and why not a house? Honestly, I never even thought about it.”
I was rambling uncontrollably, but my tangled tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. Normally, I wasn’t nervous around guys, but Oliver was different. The confident—though admittedly distraught—version of myself I’d been when I first met him felt like a distant memory. It was hard to believe I’d ever had the audacity to just lean in and kiss him like I had. His self-assurance, combined with how different he was from me, was disarming. Even if I still had my successful career, I knew it wouldn’t impress him in the slightest, and that thought made me uneasy. In fact, nothing about me could ever impress him. Now that I was aware of that, my heartrate spiked anytime I spent more than one interrupted second looking into his eyes.
“Frankie, relax.” Oliver laughed softly and shook his head. “I wasn’t offended. Trust me, if you ever meet my brother, you’ll realize my skin is thick as shit.”
“Okay,” I squeaked out, cursing my voice for cracking. I knocked on the bar and nervously scanned the restaurant. “Um, so, what’s for dinner tonight?” I asked him, not bothering to hand him a menu. Marie’s was technically more of a lounge than a restaurant—whatever the hell that was supposed to mean—and we only served about ten items. They consisted of small plates and whole foods that had a farm-to-table feel, and most of it was vegetarian. Oliver had already tried everything at this point.
“Another kale and super grain bowl, I guess.” Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like Oliver winced when he said it.
“I’ll put it in,” I said, but just then, Bev rushed behind me, holding plates and heading to the dining room .
“I got it, Frankie. I’m already running back and forth from the kitchen anyway.”
“Thanks, Bev,” Oliver called as she raced to a table to set down the plates of food.
His smile stayed plastered to his face. I’d grown to be slightly obsessed with the way it curled into his cheeks. Almost as if it were a smirk, but it was the most genuine thing I’d ever seen. I poured him his favorite beer and slid it across the bar.
He caught the beer and eyed my hand. “Glad to see your wrist has completely healed.”
My cheeks flushed as I stopped leaning on my hands to rub the completely falsified injury. “Still a little tender.”
Oliver’s eyes twinkled at my obvious lie. “Is it?”
“So, about my next intro-to-fun course.” I toweled off the bar, changing the subject.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Oliver asked. “I’ve got it all planned out. The day after tomorrow. Bright and early.”
“Can’t wait,” I said, not even having to feign my excitement.
“You’re going to love it,” he insisted.
“Am I?” I teased. I was excited at the thought of spending some more one-on-one time with Oliver. Time that didn’t involve a medic room or feeling self-conscious and nervous on a ski hill.
“It’s going to blow you away,” he confirmed.
“Wow, confident. I like it.” I winked at him, which caused his already-big smile to widen.
A new group came in and approached the bar. I held up a finger to Oliver before going over to take their order.
When I came back, Bev was already swinging by.
“Order up,” Bev said, as she set a bowl in front of Oliver.
“I’ll pick you up at six a.m.,” he said, before picking up a fork and taking a less-than-enthusiastic bite of the kale salad .
“You have a car?” I blurted out.
He froze mid-bite before chewing slowly, squinting his eyes and giving me a strange look. He swallowed and shook his head. “Yes, Frankie. Jesus. You don’t think I own a car either?”
“Sorry,” I sputtered. “I just didn’t picture you driving.”
Now I felt like an idiot. Who didn’t drive? Oliver almost felt like a character in a book to me. Like he was so far out of my typical reality, that he was almost fictional. It was hard to picture him doing normal things like driving, buying a home, going to work. But those were thoughts I really should have kept to myself.
“I drive,” he promised, a small sound of disbelief escaping his throat. “I really have some ground to make up on this date to impress you, huh?”
“Date?” I choked out.
He waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
No. I absolutely did not know what that meant.
“I’m excited,” I said, franticly needing to change the subject. “I could use the distraction.”
“Job hunt not going so well?” he asked.
“You could say that.” I sighed and dropped my gaze to the bar top in front of me. “I got my first rejection—well, interview rejection.”
“Oh well. You’ll get ‘em next time.”
Casual. Not a worry to be had. Exactly how I’d known he’d react.
“If there is a next time,” I muttered.
Oliver sat up, reached across the bar, and ruffled my hair.
“Hey!” I jerked away.
“Don’t be such a pessimist. There will absolutely be a next time, and until then, I will be dragging your ass out to have more fun because clearly, I underestimated how badly you need it. ”
“Fine,” I breathed out, as if spending time with Oliver was a chore and not the most exciting aspect of my life as of late. “In the meantime, I’ll start drafting up a ten-year plan for you to fill out. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about our deal.”
His smile dropped at that as he leaned away from me. “That’s alright. I’m not much of a planner.”
“Oh, but you will be. Trust me, a plan and goals can be so satisfying.” I watched as Oliver squirmed in discomfort. “Perhaps a ten-year plan is too extreme. What about five?”
He ran a hand along his jaw. “Five months? Seems a little far out to make plans.”
I let out a snort and followed it with a mock tsking sound. “Be ready, Oliver. You might have your plans for me on Monday, but I have plans for you too.”
He almost looked worried, and I loved it. If he was going to push me, then I was going to push him too. Or try to, at least. Oliver was a tougher nut to crack than he seemed.
We continued making chitchat long after he finished his dinner. I’d occasionally leave him to serve drinks or see if a customer needed anything, but any free second I had, I always spent circling back to him. Oliver was nothing like the guys I’d hung out with back in Atlanta. When I used to find time to socialize, it was usually with people in similar careers as mine. They were always sizing me up, unsure if I was competition or someone suitable for companionship—never both. With Oliver, everything felt easy. Obviously, too easy. This wasn’t anything that could actually go somewhere. But it was fun.