Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
FRANKIE
Now
Loud voices reached Frankie after she’d finished her three o’clock lesson the following day. The argument was coming from her office, so she hurried through the hallway and entered the space.
“Oh good. There you are,” Kayla said as soon as she saw her, a visible wave of relief sweeping over her.
On the other side of the desk were Mrs. Weaver and Mrs. Nolan, and neither of them looked happy. In fact, they were glaring at each other with such animosity that Frankie suspected she’d interrupted just in time to prevent a physical fight.
“Everything okay here?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over the two irate women to Kayla.
“Small disagreement,” Kayla said.
“It’s not small,” Mrs. Weaver hissed. “I had already secured a tent supplier, and now Alicia wants to go with her husband’s contact instead. Not only was that not her job, but we’re down to the wire, and pulling out of my agreement will make me look terrible.”
Mrs. Nolan threw up her arms. “Forgive me for thinking a better deal would be more important than your standing with a vendor.”
“It’s about being true to one’s word,” Mrs. Weaver said. “But I guess to some people that doesn’t matter.”
“You mean like when you said you were fine with Lauren getting the final solo at the show and then you told Lorilynn and Felicity behind my back that Mira Kopp would have been a better pick?”
“Okay.” Frankie approached the desk, sharing a commiserating look with Kayla. “You’re both working so hard to get this done, and no one appreciates that more than me, but how about we take a small step back and breathe. We’re on the same team.”
“You’ve not exactly been around,” Mrs. Weaver sniped.
“My responsibilities here pull me in many different directions,” Frankie said.
“My point is, we all want this fundraiser to be a success.” She waited until the women had agreed with her.
“As far as the vendor goes, I’m inclined to agree with Mrs. Nolan—if her person is offering a better deal.
” She put up a hand to stop Mrs. Weaver from launching a protest. “But to ensure there’s no blowback on you, I’m happy to contact your person myself and take the blame. How is that?”
Mrs. Weaver huffed out a breath. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”
“Okay, good.” Frankie offered them a smile, the same one reflected back at her from the many framed photos of Estelle in the room. We’re all friends here, it said. Work with me.
“And what about the performance order,” Mrs. Nolan asked. “Like I said, we have a preliminary list put together already.”
“A great start no doubt,” Frankie agreed. “But the other teachers and I will finalize that. Everyone will get their chance to shine.”
Both moms nodded, looking down at their hands, and Frankie had never felt more like the principal of a school.
“Now if you don’t mind, I have to get ready for a lesson. Was there anything else urgent?”
“I’ll have quotes for sound systems for you tomorrow,” Mrs. Weaver said.
“And I’m sending you a list of all our donations,” Mrs. Nolan added.
“Thank you both so much,” Frankie said. She nodded to Kayla, who stood and gestured for the moms to follow her to the door.
As soon as they were gone, Frankie sank into the desk chair and covered her face with her hands, and that’s how Kayla found her a few moments later.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” Frankie said from behind her hands.
“Um, I have some résumés for you to look at. Voice teachers. When you get a chance. And the exterminator called about payment again. He’s kind of being a pest about it. Get it?” She snickered at her own joke.
“How did Estelle do this?” Frankie asked, her hands dropping to the desk.
“There aren’t enough hours in the day. I was planning on driving up to Mooresville to pawn this stuff after my five o’clock.
” She pulled out the plastic bag from her purse.
“But now I also need to reach out to the tent guy and call potential job candidates. Not to mention figure out how the heck I’m supposed to play at that wedding this weekend. ” She held up her useless hands.
Kayla leaned against the desk. “Well, first of all, I think part of why you’re in this situation is that Estelle, in fact, did not ‘do this.’ You’re trying to clean up a mess that she created, so don’t compare yourself. Second of all—you still can’t play?”
Frankie shook her head. “Not even a simple sonata.”
Kayla’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on with you?”
Frankie gestured around the room in response.
“No,” Kayla said. “There’s more. Things you’re not sharing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Matt says you’re not texting him back either.”
A pang of guilt hollowed Frankie’s gut. It was just that once she’d decided to keep what she was learning about Estelle from them, the secrets had piled up, and it wasn’t like she didn’t have reasons.
Kayla was friends with Tina and Stefano outside of work, Matt talked to his dad, they both had their own loyalties to Estelle, and word traveled fast in a small town like this.
“We used to tell each other everything,” Kayla said. “I know it was a long time ago, and that people grow apart. Matt and I found each other and built a life together. You’ve had Starview and Estelle. But we’re both still here. I’m still trying. Maybe I can help.”
Something tightened inside Frankie as Kayla’s words cracked a lens in the rose-colored glasses that she’d always viewed her life through. Work and her mom—that’s what her life had amounted to. What had happened to her dreams? To the girl Owen had kissed senseless on the bleachers?
She considered her former best friend; the woman Kayla had become. She would listen, Frankie knew that, but would she understand? Would anyone? “I’ll think about it,” she said. “It’s just… a lot.”
“Okay,” Kayla said. “But don’t take too long. You can’t go on like this.”
Frankie nodded, unexpected tears stinging behind her eyes.
“Will you at least let me help with this?” Kayla said, reaching for the bag of jewelry. “I don’t have class until seven, and I’m an excellent negotiator. I can go to Mooresville.”
Frankie looked up. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. And I’ll text you if I have questions. I’ll leave now.”
As soon as Kayla had left, Frankie pulled out her phone and opened Matt’s last message from yesterday. It was the third one from him that she’d ignored.
What’s up, Frankenweenie? Haven’t heard from you in a while. BBQ this weekend?
She typed out a quick response. Sorry. Things are busy. BBQ sounds good.
Kayla had been right—they were still trying, still including her after all these years.
Frankie was the one who’d pulled back. It wasn’t that she’d regretted letting Estelle introduce them, but she also hadn’t considered at the time that from that point onward, the two of them would have each other, independent of her.
Estelle was the one who’d pointed that out to her—that couples, especially new ones, didn’t need a third wheel always tagging along, so maybe it was best she skip that movie outing or hike or dinner.
She frowned at the memory, sucking in her lips as if something bitter had touched her tongue. It had been difficult in the beginning, had felt like her life had shrunk a little even if Estelle had done her best to make sure Frankie had things to do. Distractions.
Distractions.
A hot flush surged beneath Frankie’s skin. There was something there trying to get out. Something nauseating with deep roots that her instincts fought against.
The timer on her phone went off, reminding her that her next student would be there in five minutes. She still hadn’t made copies of the music he needed, so she pushed all other thoughts out of her head in favor of being practical.
It worked through her students’ warm-up scales and beginning measures, but then her phone started ringing.
“Sorry,” she told the kid, declining the call in her pocket.
“Phones off in the practice rooms,” the kid said.
“You’re right about that,” she said brightly. “Now from the top.”
Her phone rang again, this time only buzzing against her hip. She twisted away from the kid so she could peek at the screen without him seeing, while he stumbled through the piece she’d assigned for homework last week.
Thora’s name lit up the screen, and the rejected one from a minute ago was also from her. Frankie frowned. Something must be going on.
“Do that one more time and focus on dynamics,” she told her student. “Remember crescendo means…?”
“Stronger.”
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
She left the room in time for a third call to come through, and this time she answered it.
“Thora, is everything okay?” She hunched in a corner of the hallway with her fingers covering her free ear to block out the faint notes of violin and guitar trembling through the air from the other practice rooms.
“Put the phone down,” she heard Owen say somewhere in the background on the other end. “Frankie is working right now.”
“I don’t care.” Thora’s voice was loud and up close. “Marv will need a decision ASAP.”
“Grams…” Owen again, even fainter. “Unlock the door please.”
“Yes, everything is fine,” Thora told Frankie. “Owen’s just got his shorts in a knot.”
“And you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom,” Frankie guessed.
“Well, he didn’t want me to call you, but it was important, so I went rogue.”
“Do you need me to text him to back off?”
“Oh, would you? He’d listen to you, I’m sure.”
“Okay, hold on.” Frankie typed up a short message with the promised sentiment and sent it off.
Owen’s response was quick. Clearly she hasn’t told you why she’s calling yet…
What was that supposed to mean?
“Okay, he’s been benched,” Frankie told Thora. “Now tell me what’s going on please. I have a student waiting.”
“Well, Owen told me about the bank situation,” Thora said. “So I made some calls.”
Frankie straightened. “Don’t tell me you have contacts at the bank.”
“No…”
“Agents in England who have contacts at the bank?” Frankie guessed.