Chapter 8 #2
A cavalcade of snapshots ran through Frankie like a reel—Mom dropping whatever she was doing to ask about Frankie’s day, her curious blue eyes crinkling and alive as she engaged with the stories Frankie told.
Her back hunched over her desk late into the evening when Starview demanded it.
Encouraging words before performances, not just to Frankie but to all the students.
A straightened ponytail. A tuned guitar.
How long it would take to walk through town with her because of how many people she’d stop to talk to.
Frankie should have thought this through better, should have known her question would spark curiosity, but she couldn’t mention the card.
Because no matter how pretty its glossy exterior, no matter that whoever had sent it was probably misinformed, the words inside cast a shadow at the edge of those memories.
“I don’t know,” she said vaguely, scrambling for an explanation. “I’m wondering if someone tried to sabotage the school or something. Just trying to think of why she made some of these financial decisions.”
His breathy exhale made Frankie pull the phone slightly from her ear.
“Ah. Yes. Success does draw in dark elements from time to time. Well, if you change your mind about the loan, let me know. There’s no shame in it, you know.
Without my Eton connections, I would have never gotten the company off the ground back in the day. ”
Frankie made a non-committal noise, thinking that day would never come, and then they ended the call, Frankie already planning to lock down Matt’s line of communication about these things with his dad.
Whatever was going on with Starview, she would handle it just like Estelle would have handled it—swiftly and professionally. There was no need to involve others.
The sun emerged from behind the dark clouds right as they hung up.
Frankie stepped outside, inhaling the earthy air as water droplets winked and sparkled at her from every leaf and branch.
There had to be another way to save Starview.
Think, think, think. Lavignes didn’t give up.
Lavignes pushed through and they got the job done because at the end of the day, no one looked out for you but you.
She slipped on her rainboots and gardening gloves and wandered into the garden where some of Estelle’s flowers were already in bloom.
Frankie’s vegetables and berries would not be ready for harvest for a while, but there was always something to do.
Weeding, pruning, tying supports. She lost herself in the repetitive work while the sun sent the lingering damp evaporating into billowing swirls of mist around her.
She didn’t notice her visitor until he was right upon her, that familiar, “Hey,” making her drop her trowel. Owen was standing on the other side of the raspberry bushes with a towel-covered basket in his hands.
Frankie straightened, pulling off her gloves. “Hey.” Maybe Kayla had been right—there was something unkempt about him. He was too pale for the sunlight, none of the glossy, all-American boy he’d been back in high school to be found in the man before her. Something must have happened along the way.
“I saw your car, so when no one answered the door, I decided to check back here. How are you?” he asked, a tightness she didn’t recognize bracing his frame. Nerves or something else?
She blinked at him. This version of him was awfully curt for a guy who’d once sent her a note likening her complexion to the brightness of the stars in the Milky Way. Then again, much time had passed. “Fine. You?”
A grimace crossed his features as if he, too, found their exchange lacking, but he caught himself and held out the basket. “Grams made cinnamon hot cross buns for Easter. We have too many, so she asked me to drop off a few for you.”
“For me? Why?” Frankie rounded the garden bed slowly.
Owen shrugged. “I don’t know what that woman is thinking half the time, but I suppose she reckoned you could use a treat. What with your mom and everything.”
He handed her the basket, and the most mouthwatering scent slipped out from under the cover.
“That’s very nice of her.” She carried it over to the weather-worn bench between the garden beds and sat down. “Want one?” she asked, gesturing to the spot next to her.
Owen hesitated, but then he joined her, taking a bun when she offered.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the creaking of the seat and happy insects fluttering about them disturbing the peace.
“It smells exactly like I remember here,” Owen said once he’d finished his roll, inhaling deeply. “Green. Warm. Happy.”
He sounded lost to whatever memory had prompted the statement, so Frankie didn’t respond. She wanted to ask where he’d been, where he’d lost whatever he was missing, but she wasn’t that person to him anymore. She had no right.
He stood suddenly as if he’d said too much. “I should get going. I didn’t mean to take up your time.”
Frankie put her half-eaten bun down on the towel, squinting up at him as if she might spot something that would explain his jumpiness. “It’s fine. They’re delicious. Please tell Mrs. Blunt thank you from me. Do you need the basket?”
“I’ll get it some other time.”
“So I’ll see you again?” Frankie didn’t have time to stop the question before it was hanging in the air between them. She couldn’t take it back either—that would give it more weight than she’d intended.
“Um…” Owen scratched the back of his head. “Probably. I’m helping Grams, so if she’s about town, I am too.”
“Like at the library,” Frankie added.
“Right.”
“I probably won’t have the basket with me then though.” Frankie tried for a smile.
Owen looked stumped at first, but then a shift swept past his eyes. A small crinkle at the corners. “No? I hear country chic is all the rage in Paris this season.”
There he is, she thought, a grin spreading on her lips. He smiled back.
“It’s good to see you, Owen,” she said.
He nodded. “Same.” He took a step back, then paused. “You are okay, right? I mean with your mom and the school. I can’t imagine…”
“I’m fine,” she said again. “Thank you.”
“You’ll do a great job leading it,” he said. “I have no doubt. The turnout Thursday was impressive.”
“Yeah, well, everyone loved Estelle.”
He was right. A lot of people had shown up and with short notice too.
Frankie had been unsure if their students would feel ready considering the interruption the week before, but everyone had stepped up, including the community.
As always, they’d come to support the young musicians and for the entertainment, but Estelle’s name had been on many lips as well.
She was still a string that bound them together.
“They love you, too, and the school. That’s Aspen Creek for you,” Owen said.
Something simmered at the edge of Frankie’s subconscious at his words. Aspen Creek loved Estelle, Estelle was Starview, so Aspen Creek loved Starview. And now Starview needed them.
“I wonder…” Frankie mumbled to herself.
“What’s that?” Owen asked.
Frankie picket up the basket. “Nothing. Just realized I have some work to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” Owen started to back away. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
But Frankie was barely paying attention, the idea blurring her surroundings as it took shape in her head.
The community was the solution. Once upon a time, they’d welcomed Estelle and Frankie into their midst, and Estelle had given her all right back.
Maybe they’d still show up for her. What was it Estelle used to say?
Loyalty is more valuable than any currency.
Yes. This could work.
Frankie watched Owen disappear through the gate, then she hurried inside to put her thoughts on paper. Tomorrow, she’d run the idea by the other teachers to see if it had legs.
If it did, she felt pretty sure she’d figured out a way to save the school.