Chapter 9
NINE
FRANKIE
Now
It was decided. They would put together a grand In Memoriam event with live music, games, food, and a raffle and auction featuring unique prizes related to Estelle’s life and work, to which they would invite all of Aspen Creek and the surrounding towns.
The more Frankie thought about it, the more she was convinced it would work.
The only caveat was that they’d have to do it no later than May 17 which was three and a half weeks away.
If they waited longer, they’d run into Memorial Day weekend, and then the end of the school year and summer break.
This meant there was a lot to do and expedience was of the essence, but for the first time since Estelle’s passing, Frankie had some genuine buoyancy to her step.
While Starview’s finances were still a point of concern, now there was at least a chance they would catch up, and that had lightened the heavy load on her shoulders.
She’d even decided to tuck the weird card from the funeral into a drawer to be able to give the auction her full attention.
Who cared what had compelled some stranger to write those misguided words?
Frankie knew Estelle and so did Aspen Creek, and that was all that mattered.
She let Kayla into her mom’s house Tuesday evening because there was one thing the whole venture hinged on, and that was memorabilia for the live auction part of the event that would put Estelle front and center.
She’d planned on going through Estelle’s things herself, but then Kayla had volunteered, and in the spirit of efficiency, Frankie had accepted.
It had been nice to spend more time with her friend lately.
“I’m caffeinated and ready to work,” Kayla said as she kicked off her sandals. Then she called toward the ceiling, “You’d better have some treasures lying around, Estelle.”
For a split second, Frankie listened as if an answer might carry on the air-conditioned wind, but then she scoffed at herself and followed Kayla into the living room.
“I found this,” Frankie said, picking up a CD of “My Only Child” from the side table and showing her friend. “It’s signed—that’s good, right?”
“Yep. Do you have pen and paper? Let’s start a list.”
Frankie fetched what they needed from the roll-top desk in the corner. “I’m putting her guitar from school on the list too, and I’ve been debating if we should include the framed gold record? That could bring in a lot.”
Kayla’s face fell. “Frankie, no. You can’t part with that.”
It would hurt, that was for sure, but if it was between that and the school… Frankie pictured herself getting up on a ladder and hooking it off the wall above Estelle’s desk at Starview, and her heart squeezed tight. “Okay. We’ll keep it off the list for now,” she said. “It can be a backup.”
“We’re going to find other things.” Kayla gestured around the room. “So where do you want to start?”
Frankie’s gaze was drawn to the stairs leading to the second floor.
She hadn’t been up there since it happened because she knew Estelle was everywhere in that space.
Her scents, her colors, the textures of her clothes, and the silence she’d left behind.
Ever since Frankie had moved into her tiny home, the second floor in this house had felt off limits—not because Estelle made it so, but because Frankie no longer had an obvious reason to be there.
And if she’d had no reason to climb those sixteen steps while Estelle was still alive, she couldn’t help but feel she had no business doing it now.
But Estelle would probably call nonsense on that.
She wasn’t the one who’d wanted Frankie to move out after all.
A pang of guilt jabbed Frankie between the ribs.
It was just that they’d already been working together, eating together, and sharing basically everything with each other.
Frankie had needed something that was just hers if for no other reason than to mark her transition to college graduate.
“I guess upstairs,” Frankie said.
“Then lead the way.”
The setting sunlight streamed in through the large window on the landing, and Frankie paused there to settle the wobble at her core.
A large portrait of her and Estelle from her high school graduation hung directly across from the window.
In it, Frankie was perched behind her mom, leaning on her shoulder with their faces cheek to cheek.
She could still feel Mom’s soft skin like a brush of velvet against her own.
Frankie tore her gaze away from it and led Kayla down the hallway into what had once been her bedroom—the most neutral ground on this floor. Over the years, it had turned into a crafting room slash sheet music storage area, so it was a good way to ease into their task.
“Remember when we drew flowers all over that wall during a sleepover?” Kayla asked.
Frankie walked over to the wall and peeled aside the bottom corner of the wallpaper where her bed had once stood so Kayla could see.
“They’re still there,” her friend squealed. “Come on, Estelle, that’s not a very good coverup.”
Frankie smirked. “It definitely would have worked better if I’d been able to stop picking at it.”
“As with most coverups.” Kayla held up a knitted green scarf still attached to its needles. “How about this? Handmade by Estelle Lavigne?”
It was a lopsided effort, but they needed prizes and couldn’t be picky, so Frankie agreed to add it to the list. If someone claimed it, it would likely be the first time one of Estelle’s crafted creations had been worn since her normal MO had been to leave projects half-finished and discarded.
Life is too short not to go where your interest lies, she’d often said, and that sentiment extended to any task that failed to hold her appeal.
“I don’t think there’s much of anything here,” Kayla said after they’d done a cursory inventory of the room. “Unless you think we could include a stack of random sheet music?”
Frankie considered the boxes. “It couldn’t hurt, right? If no one’s interested, that’s fine, but you never know.”
Kayla nodded. “Good point.” She dragged one of the boxes closer to where she was sitting on the carpeted floor. “Why don’t I sort through these then, and you can move on?”
Frankie took a deep breath. Moving on meant going into Estelle’s bedroom.
“You can do it,” Kayla said gently. “Remember we’re doing this for her. For Starview.”
Frankie nodded. Kayla was right.
Standing outside her mom’s room, Frankie resisted the urge to knock.
Instead, she pushed the door open and braced for attack by the invisible force she knew would linger inside.
The one with the power to throw her equilibrium.
She’d loved the movie Ghostbusters as a child, cheering on the heroes as they vanquished ghouls left and right, but as she stepped over the threshold and allowed the comforting notes of orange blossom and white musk to wash over her, she would have welcomed an apparition no matter its intent.
“How are you gone?” she whispered into the shadows left by a half-drawn drape, wrapping her arms around herself.
She stood there, still and waiting for a response that would never come, until a ruckus from the other room snapped her out of her stupor.
“Sorry,” Kayla called. “Dropped a box.”
Frankie’s gaze landed on the still-dented pillow on the bed where Mom had last lain her head, an ominous quaking rumbling beneath her skin at the sight.
The temptation to allow herself to crumble yet again was overwhelming, but now that other people were counting on her, that people’s jobs and children’s dreams depended on her saving Starview, she would lock that chamber in her chest up tight and do what she’d set out to do.
Still, her heart pounded unevenly as she approached the bed, her fingers caressing the soft duvet.
You’re my strong girl, the ghost whispered on the wind.
My survivor. Frankie flexed her hands once as if a concerto wanted to burst from her fingers, and then she pulled the drapes wide open, flooding the space with light.
She also opened the window, and with the first gust of fresh air bursting in, her lungs regained their full capacity.
Chin up, eyes forward. She was here to do a job, and she would do it well.
The walk-in closet was first. She wasn’t interested in the clothes and the shoes—most of those she’d donate at some point—and the small fireproof filing cabinet held only passports and other documents that were not for the public eye.
But there was a photo at the school from opening day in which Estelle wore a knee-length floral dress with a matching red cowboy hat worthy of the Kentucky Derby, and that hat could make a fine auction item if she could find it.
Kayla appeared in the doorway with her arms full of music.
“I’ve had an idea,” she said. “What if we make themed baskets instead for the silent auction—one each for piano, violin, guitar, voice, and ballet? I’m sorting through the stacks and there are some great scores here.
We could add treats and other fun items that would be geared toward the students. The parents would eat it up.”
Frankie lifted the lid off another shoebox on the floor and nodded. “I like it. Are you almost done in there? I’m looking for that hat.”
“Halfway. I’ll let you know when.” She disappeared again.
Plenty of shoes and hats later, she still hadn’t located the red one, and the closet hadn’t yielded anything else for the auction. They needed that one high-value item that would draw interest for a bidding war, and so far, all they had were small potatoes.
“Guest room next,” she called to Kayla.
“Okay, still got more boxes here,” was her response.