Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
FRANKIE
Now
Frankie sat at the electric piano that had been set up on the stage inside the big auction tent.
It was five minutes until the event would officially kick off, and she’d decided to do it with music.
Her hands would cooperate today, she’d decided.
No one determined what she could or couldn’t do but herself anymore.
She was in control. If she said she’d play, she’d make it happen.
One of the guys who’d come with the rented sound equipment stepped up next to her and adjusted the microphone stand on the other side of the piano because today she was singing too.
Nothing like having your sense of self stripped down to nothing and built back up to venture into unknown territory.
Plus, she needed the lyrics fresh in the audience’s mind.
Matt and Kayla and the other Starview teachers had already taken their places on the other side of the stage, and she reciprocated when Matt gave her a smile and a nod.
Her brother. Kayla hinted subtly toward the audience that was milling in to take their seats, and Frankie’s gaze followed her indication, spotting Raymond seated in the third row. Good.
Owen and Thora were two rows behind him, and from the looks of things, Owen was currently working hard at burning holes in the back of Raymond’s head with his eyes.
Despite what she’d told herself last night, the sight of Owen buoyed her heart.
There was something there, she couldn’t deny it, and maybe when all of this was over, they’d get a chance to see what might have been.
How lucky she was to have these people in her life.
Frankie could see now that the way she and Kayla had drifted apart was not from Kayla’s lack of trying.
It was the natural progression of one of them marrying and the other not.
For all Frankie knew, this fact might also have been of Estelle’s design.
Like with Owen and Zach, Estelle could have seen threats to her total control of Frankie in Matt and Kayla, so what better way to eliminate that than introducing the two of them.
Two birds with one stone. Frankie was willing to bet Estelle had hoped they’d move away too, but thank goodness they hadn’t.
Instead, Estelle had made Frankie partner and kept her busy at Starview—busy enough not to get too close to anyone else.
It was possible the school had never been able to afford that shift and expansion.
The school’s finances ending up in shambles still baffled them all, but all signs pointed to simple poor management.
Renovation costs that were never recuperated.
Interest on loans. An unwillingness to increase prices. Pride.
Well, that ended today.
Frankie placed her hands on the keys. It was time.
The audience quieted as soon as the first chord rang out.
Frankie’s hands trembled initially, but when the notes came sure and true, she relaxed and let herself breathe into the music.
The dam inside her finally broke as her fingers moved; each new key depressed melting another measure of tension until, finally, stillness settled at her core.
A collective inhale swept through the space when she leaned forward and started singing.
This would be the last time she ever played “My Only Child.” After today, this chapter would be in her past, and there it would stay.
Her performance brought down a swell of applause that seemed to lift the tent as she brought the microphone with her to go stand in front of Matt, Kayla, and the teachers.
The tent was filled to the brim just like the church had been at Estelle’s funeral, and the wall panels had all been strung open to allow the air to circulate and for more people to partake in the festivities from picnic blankets and lawn chairs in the park beyond.
Long tables lined the right-hand side of the tent, overflowing with baskets of varying sizes ready for the bidding.
Frankie had contributed one of her own last minute—a woven one with a purple bow stuffed with lavender products from Amber’s shop.
She’d sent her mom a photo this morning, to which Amber had responded that she was so proud of everything Frankie had accomplished.
Frankie couldn’t remember one time when Estelle had expressed something similar without making it out to be a joint achievement.
She took a deep breath, then brought the mic to her lips.
“Hello and welcome,” she said, spotting Orla Monroe at the edge of her seat in the first row.
Frankie had personally called to leave a message encouraging her attendance, as well as expressing a wish to amend their interview whenever there was time.
Squealing feedback cut through the tent, making everyone squirm, but Frankie got it to stop and let a smile settle her nerves. She found Owen in the crowd and kept her eyes on him as she continued speaking.
“Thank you all so much for being here today. We have a wonderful afternoon ahead of us with live music by our talented students, games and activities outside, a raffle and silent auction with donations from our generous community, and of course the main event that will take place at four o’clock when we auction off our big prizes that you can see over there.
” She gestured to a table below the stage.
“But first I’d like to say a few words about the woman without whom we wouldn’t be here today.” She paused, her gaze sweeping through the crowd of smiling and eager citizens. This was it.
“Estelle’s too-early passing was a blow for the Aspen Creek community. We all have our personal memories of her, but I think there’s also a communal sense of who she was to us. Entertainer, idol, teacher, friend, colleague, advocate, champion. To me, she was Mom.”
Several tuts of sympathy reached the stage, but Frankie forged on.
“To come to terms with her loss, I embarked on somewhat of a journey to… understand her better after she died. And I think I did, but what I found was something I never could have expected. You see, Estelle was not always Estelle. She was born Stella-Jane Sutton in rural Mississippi to Irish immigrants, and as I’ve learned more about her, an image has crystallized of someone who always wanted to be more than she was.
Who possibly even felt that she was owed a better life and did whatever she could to claim it. ”
Maybe that had even been Estelle’s original lie, Frankie thought. That she deserved more for no other reason than wanting it. Was that what had set everything in motion?
The first inklings of unease stirred pockets of the audience, but Frankie faced them head-on. “We all know this about her. She was ambitious. She was charismatic. She had talent. But the woman you all think you knew was also self-serving and manipulative.”
The whispers rose around the room, and outside the tent, Frankie spotted some people moving closer.
“How many of you in here know the story behind the song I just sang? Of what happened to me?” Frankie asked.
Almost everyone in the tent raised their hands.
Frankie nodded. “Well, the truth is that the song was inspired by an abduction in Hattiesburg in 1985. It turns out it’s not about me at all.
In looking for things for this auction, I discovered the original draft of the song which is dated several years before I was born. She lied. To you and to me.”
The whispers rose in volume, with a few audience members growing visibly agitated.
Owen stood. “Let her finish please. Listen to what she has to say.”
“Thank you,” Frankie mouthed, allowing herself another private moment with just him before facing the audience again.
“I know this is difficult to hear, but that wasn’t the only lie she told.
And I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m choosing to share this here.
Now. We are gathered to celebrate her, after all.
To honor her legacy. But while she did have an admirable career both as a singer and as champion for our town through the school, I stand here before you today with the truth because anything else would mean allowing the deception to continue, and the truth is that Estelle wasn’t who we thought she was. ”
At the core of everything lay a simple fact.
Estelle had always done whatever she needed to do to get what Estelle wanted.
First with her career and Amber, and then with Frankie and Aspen Creek, and she’d pulled it off.
She’d arranged her world so that she’d always felt adored and important—an inspired songwriter, a caring mother, a matron of the arts, a cornerstone of society.
The tenacity would have been admirable if Frankie hadn’t been on the receiving end of her grandmother’s fixations.
Frankie’s lips parted on an inhale, then she let the words go.
“Estelle was not my mother; she was my grandmother.” She ignored the ripple of shock through the room and continued.
“My real mother had me when she was fifteen, and I was just able to reunite with her this past weekend. Needless to say, this has come as a shock to me, as have the intricacies of the lies Estelle told, but I’m choosing to see it as separate from the task at hand, and my hope is that you will too.
” She gestured to the room as if underscoring that hope.
It was, of course, an understatement. She’d seen first-hand in Aftbury what could happen to a community when its heart disappeared, so she needed the people here to rally despite what she was telling them.