Chapter 6
SIX
FRANKIE
Now
Frankie’s right hand was still wrapped around the mouse as she spun the chair out from under the desk at Starview and half stood while continuing to scan the subject lines in the school inbox for more emergencies.
That one could wait. That one too. She’d been on her way out the door for a half hour, but at the last minute, she’d remembered she had to cancel a paper order they could do without for the month, and then she’d spotted a missed email from a parent asking about dress code guidance for the monthly showcase at the library that she was presently running late to.
Four days in, Frankie no longer had to wonder at Estelle’s long evenings at the school.
There was always something to do—from progress checks, performance arrangements, and staff meetings to creating lesson plans, parent communication, and now solving the financial issues and hiring too.
At least she’d told Kayla and Matt about the bills just to have someone to talk to about it, and Kayla was showing up for her in a major way, always asking what she could do or if there was anything Frankie needed.
It made her feel guilty about the way their friendship had drifted—like it was her fault and Kayla had always been there—but maybe their life paths had simply diverged.
Either way, it was nice to see more of her again.
Frankie’s phone buzzed with a message just as she locked the door to the office and hurried toward the front door.
She contemplated ignoring it because what if it was yet another busy task that would keep her from where she was heading, but then she sighed and pulled her phone out just like Estelle would have done.
Where are you? the text from Kayla read. About to start.
“Fudge.” Frankie tossed the phone back in her bag and set off running.
The library was only a few blocks away, and she made it there as Grant, the guitar teacher, was introducing his newest students.
Every month, Starview put on a free performance at the public library as a stage experience opportunity for any student willing to show off their skills to the community.
As with most other things Starview, this event was Estelle’s brainchild and an effort she’d managed to get the town hall to sponsor since it fit neatly with their commitment to community-strengthening, literacy, and the arts.
Over the years, it had proven to be a win on all fronts—each month, the showcase drew more visitors to the library, gave young musicians a chance to play in front of a friendly audience, boosted parent satisfaction, allowed the town leadership to mingle with the community and pat themselves on the back, and gave Starview a boost in exposure and a chance to entice new clients with little effort.
It was also plain fun.
Some of Frankie’s earliest recital memories were from inside these book-clad walls, and she knew she shared that experience with both Tina, the violin teacher, and Stefano.
Frankie found a seat at the back of the full room, waving to Kayla, who was overseeing a group of tiny ballerinas waiting their turn up front, to let her know she’d made it.
One of the librarians hurried back toward Frankie as three novice guitar players strummed up a shaky version of “You are My Sunshine.”
“We have a reserved seat for you at the front,” she whispered. “Come with me.”
“Oh, I’m fine here,” Frankie said with a polite smile.
“But Estelle always sat up front,” the librarian insisted. “It’s your seat now.”
Frankie stared at her. She wanted to protest as if that empty seat was an invite that could reach the afterlife. As if Estelle might still show up. Besides, Frankie was not an “up front” kind of person. If that’s who they expected, they’d be sorely disappointed.
Don’t be silly, Estelle said in her head. Expectations are opinions waiting to be formed.
Frankie caved. For better or worse, she was the face of Starview now, and if they wanted to sign up more students, it would help if she was visible.
Before she could change her mind, she followed the librarian to the front and sat down with the eyes in the room burning at her neck. But Kayla gave her a thumbs up, and after another few performances, Frankie allowed herself to relax and enjoy the show.
Once the final musician had performed, all the students got up in front of their audience to raucous applause.
It seemed to lift the ceiling today, and when Frankie turned around to face the room, she was surprised to see the audience spilling into the foyer.
They’d never had so many in attendance before, but perhaps that was another sign of how much Estelle had meant to the community.
A burst of grief threatened to shake loose the tears she’d locked up after the funeral, but it sputtered out as a glint of an idea ignited somewhere in Frankie’s mind at the sight of the crowd.
Unfortunately, before she could follow its sparking fuse, a familiar bottle-blonde updo swept toward her where she stood near the piano at the front of the room.
“Impressive turnout,” Orla Monroe said. She was dressed in a floral blouse and navy slacks today—more casual but equally as put-together as at the funeral. “I can see why the school is successful. You offer both music and academics now, right?”
Frankie studied the reporter for signs that she already knew something she shouldn’t but found her expression friendly.
Not that that necessarily meant anything.
“We have an academic curriculum for grades one to six in addition to the part-time music conservatory,” she confirmed.
“But I’m sure you knew that already. What brings you here tonight? ”
“Free musical entertainment,” Orla said. “Who can resist?”
“But you don’t live in Aspen Creek.”
Orla cocked her chin in the affirmative. “True.”
Frankie shifted her stance, keeping an eye on the people around them to gauge what she could and couldn’t say.
Her conversation with Bonnie earlier in the week had given her no rest, so when no one was in direct earshot, she took her chance.
“Why are you walking around questioning parents about Starview and Mom?”
Orla’s eyes widened briefly. “Oh, you’re direct. I like it.” She pushed a stray blonde strand off her temple. “Let’s just say—”
“Frankie!” Grant strolled up to them picking a casual melody on one of the strings of the kid-sized guitar he’d slung around his neck. “We’re heading out to catch the rest of the high school baseball game. Want to come?”
“Big one today,” Stefano added as he and Tina joined.
“How so?” Frankie turned her back to Orla. She’d come back to her later.
Stefano looked offended by her ignorance. “They’ll make it to state if they win.”
“Which they will,” Tina said. “Go Mustangs!”
Grant showed his agreement by plucking the first few notes to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” on his guitar.
“I’m good, but you guys have fun,” Frankie said. She could think of few things she found less interesting than watching people sweat over a ball.
She waited until they’d left before steeling herself for facing Orla again. “Where were we?” she asked, turning around, only to find the spot where the reporter had stood now vacated. She craned her neck but couldn’t spot her anywhere. Typical.
She’d meandered halfway through the room looking for the woman while accepting occasional praise on behalf of the school and nodding at well-meaning condolences when a waving hand caught her attention beyond the family of one of the tiny ballerinas.
“Frankie!” a brisk voice called. Not Orla’s.
She couldn’t see who it belonged to, but it had to be someone short because the hand barely cleared shoulder height trying.
“Frankie, yoo-hoo. Over here.” The hand waved some more.
Frankie’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t used to being yoo-hooed, but nevertheless, she pushed her way through the crowd until she stood before a lady clad in head-to-toe purple who grinned up at her with crinkled eyes from her wheelchair seat.
It was one of the Word Birds—a group of old ladies who’d made the library their daily hangout and who consequently showed up to every single one of Starview’s monthly showcases.
“Mrs. Blunt,” Frankie said, pulling the name from somewhere deep inside, even though she’d never exchanged more than a word in passing with the rather intimidating group of seniors.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Mrs. Blunt asked. “So many in attendance today.”
Frankie offered her a smile. “Not at all. How are you?”
“No, no,” Mrs. Blunt said sternly. “Not me. How are you?” She took Frankie’s hand as if they were longtime friends. “I wanted to offer belated sympathy for your loss. I would have been at the funeral if only my gosh-darned knee hadn’t needed replacing only two days prior. Hence the wheels.”
The wheelchair was also purple, as was the brace spanning Mrs. Blunt’s knee now that Frankie had a closer look.
“I can walk, mind you,” the old woman added. “But I’m saving it for shorter distances for now. Plus, the chair gives Owen something to do.” She peered up at Frankie, her pale eyes twinkling as she pointed behind her. “I trust you remember my grandson?”
Frankie’s gaze shot up, landing on the man who had his hands on the wheelchair push handles.
He’d been standing so still that Frankie hadn’t noticed him before.
Dark-blonde hair fell across his forehead, and several days of stubble covered his cheeks, giving what should have been well-known features a mildly boorish camouflage.
“Owen?” she asked, taking in the familiar slant of his eyes. Was it really him?
“Hi, Frankie.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”