Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
FRANKIE
Now
Frankie sputtered out something that resembled a laugh. Not a real birth certificate. What else would it be? “Sure it is.”
Bob shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to come back when you have the real one.”
“No!” She stared at him, the word having burst from her lips propelled by the crush of yet another thwarted path. She remembered Estelle giving her this document when she’d sorted out Frankie’s important papers from her own. There had been no sign of deception. She remembered dammit.
Bob shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
He was close to kicking her out, Frankie realized, pushing the implications of what she’d just learned out of her mind to focus.
That tremor at her core. For all he knew, she was the one who’d forged it, and that was probably a crime, not to mention it meant the answers the account might provide would remain out of her reach. This would require another tactic.
“But you know who I am,” Frankie said. “You know who Estelle was. Can’t you make an exception?”
“That’s not how we do work here.”
“What if I have someone vouch for me?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Please. You don’t understand.” She needed to know what was in that account. Needed it more than it probably warranted, but with so few answers available to her, every possibility was high stakes.
Bob looked at her with a mix of sympathy and discomfort. “I think it would be best if you left now.”
Frankie sucked in a long breath, and then she nodded. “I’ll be back,” she said, the words sounding more like a threat than she’d intended. But she wouldn’t give up on this. Couldn’t. The very idea of driving back to Aspen Creek felt like admitting defeat.
She stopped before her car in the parking lot, the sun reflecting off the windshield.
There must be something else she could do.
Someone who could help. Her eyes swept over the surrounding buildings.
When she’d come here the first time, it had seemed so random that Estelle had decided to do her banking here and not in Aspen Creek, but Estelle had always been an intentional person.
If she chose this place, she must have had a reason.
Someone could have recommended it to her, Frankie thought. Someone who’d advised her mom in business for a long time. Ugh. Frankie didn’t want to call Uncle Ray again—he’d think she was incapable of handling her own business—but if there was a small chance he could help, she had to take it.
He answered after the second ring with his big rumbling, “Frankie, dear.”
“Hi, Uncle Ray,” Frankie said. “How are you?”
“Oh fine, fine.” He was silent for a beat. “I hear you’ve been out traveling.”
Matt again. Did he have to tell his dad everything? “I found my parents’ marriage certificate, so I got curious where they started out. Just a little road trip.”
“And did you find it?” he asked.
“Yeah, but the house was no longer there.” Why did she feel like he already knew the answers to the questions he was asking.
Was it just his salesmanship, a trait that came with built-in self-assurance?
Or maybe he did know more than he said. She decided to test the theory.
“Hey, Uncle Ray, do you know where Mom’s family came from originally? ”
“Sure. They were Irish, I believe.”
So she hadn’t lied to him. “I always thought they were French,” she said. “But then again, I didn’t know her real name was Stella-Jane Sutton either.” She held her breath, waiting to see what his reaction would be.
“I always thought Estelle Lavigne suited her better,” Ray said. “And it was certainly better for the stage. She was a smart woman, suggesting that change.”
An artistic choice then. If Frankie was going to be generous, she could admit it had a snappier ring to it than Stella-Jane. What she still didn’t understand was how she’d lived for thirty-six years and never known.
“She never told me,” Frankie said. “No one did. Did she want it kept a secret?”
“I wouldn’t know. It wasn’t something we discussed.”
Frankie pursed her lips. How convenient. Then another thought occurred. “When did she change it, do you know?”
“Oh, that must have been early nineties sometime. Before her career took off.”
That confirmed Bob’s assessment of the birth certificate as fake because on it, her mom’s name was listed as Estelle Lavigne, and with the knowledge Frankie now had, that should have been Stella-Jane, and Frankie’s last name should have been Milne.
Which brought her back to why she’d called him in the first place.
“Speaking of names,” she said. “I’m trying to access Mom’s bank accounts—you know, for the auction—and I’m running into an issue because I…
” She weighed her words so they’d be close to the truth without opening the can of worms falsified documents were wont to do.
“Because I don’t know where my birth certificate is,” she said.
“Do you happen to know anyone affiliated with Lake Norman Bank in Mooresville? I’m there now. ”
“Of course,” he said immediately. “The manager is a close friend. In fact, I’m only ten minutes out. I could swing by.”
Frankie closed her eyes, chin slumping to her chest. It would be so much harder to guard what came out of her mouth in person. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I’m sure a phone call would suffice.”
“Nonsense.” A car door closed on the other end. “I’ve not seen Jeremiah for some time. Hang tight, Frankie dear.” The call disconnected.
She let her hand drop to her side. Great.
Now she’d have to contend with his shrewd perception while actually lying.
It was bad enough when she had nothing to hide.
When they were little, she and Matt had been convinced for the longest time that Ray had spies following them.
How else would he have known about the contents of the cookie jar being “magically” transferred to a pillowcase that ended up in the tree house?
He wasn’t even home at the time. No, he wasn’t a man who let anything slip him by.
Uncle Ray’s Mercedes pulled up next to her eight minutes later. “Need a few strings pulled today, do we?” He grinned at her as he exited the car.
As much as she hated to admit it, she did, which made her no better than the nepotistic cronies he normally surrounded himself with. At least he knew she had nothing to offer in return.
“I called ahead,” he said at the same time as a rotund man with jet-black hair that belied his age exited the bank.
“Raymond Clark. Will you look at that,” the man said.
“Jeremiah!” Uncle Ray straightened to his very tallest as he shook the man’s hand. “Good to see you, old friend.”
“Who are you calling old?” Jeremiah slapped Uncle Ray on the shoulder.
They jabbed each other like that for a minute, then Uncle Ray introduced Frankie and explained she needed access to Estelle’s account.
“Lovely Estelle,” Jeremiah said. “Such a tragedy. My deepest condolences to you, young lady.”
“Thank you,” Frankie said, though her gratitude was more for them not questioning her story about her misplaced documents than for the sympathy.
“So what say you, Jerry?” Uncle Ray leveraged the full weight of his gaze on the other man. “My word still good with you? We don’t need to worry about this certificate, do we?”
Jeremiah rolled back on his feet. Cocked his head. “Are the greens at Pinehurst still true and fast?”
Uncle Ray let out a deep guffaw. “Why don’t I take you out there one of these days and you can see for yourself?”
Frankie wanted to sink through the concrete. This was what she’d stooped to—being an accessory to tit for tat. She reminded herself as she had many times before never to get on Uncle Ray’s bad side. Someone who could pull strings like that for you could also pull them against you.
The two men wrapped up their conversation with more handshakes and shoulder slaps, then Uncle Ray turned to Frankie, wide smile still in place. “Anything else I can do for you before I head off, Frankie dear? Got places to be, but you know I’m always happy to help.”
Frankie glanced at Jeremiah, who was waiting to escort her back inside. Something about being the focus of the two older men’s attention like this made her feel like she’d failed herself. Like she’d somehow shown incompetence when tested. It was all in her head of course. Lavignes are self-reliant.
“I don’t think so,” she said, making sure to keep her chin up. “I really appreciate it though.”
“Tell you what. You join us for dinner next time I have Matt and Kayla over and we’ll call it even.
” He nodded once to mark it a done deal, and Frankie didn’t protest. That dinner would likely never happen anyway.
In Ray’s world, invites and commitments like these were throwaways synonymous with goodbye.
“I’ll be in touch, Jerry,” he called while unlocking his car as if to make Frankie’s point. “Better warm up that swing.”
Jeremiah demonstrated the move. “You know I will.”
Frankie couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the branch manager.
Still, minutes later, she found herself in front of Bob once more. To the principled banker’s credit, he didn’t seem put off that she’d gone above his head as he finally accessed Estelle’s private account for her.
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He turned the monitor her way and pointed to the balance. “Fifty-three dollars and seven cents,” he said.
Not any hoarded-away riches then. From the way her stomach hollowed at the low number, Frankie realized she’d held out hope this whole time that this account would fix Starview’s problems. A secret stash. A nest egg for a rainy day. But no.
“Looks like that’s not changed in a long time,” Bob said. “The last deposit into this account was ten years ago, and it’s been idle since. A shame she kept paying for it if she didn’t need it.” The last comment he said more to himself than Frankie.
“Can you see the activity in it before then?” Frankie asked. “Did she use it as a regular checking account?”