Chapter 39 #2
“The truth is also that our school needs money to survive. Starview has been in financial jeopardy, and none of us up here knew about it until after Estelle’s death.
There is no downplaying what this school has meant for Aspen Creek—I know it, and you know it—but I can’t in good conscience ask for your support without you knowing what you’re contributing to, and that’s why I’m choosing to lay all of this out for you.
“After today, the school will no longer be called Starview Conservatory. We are renaming it Aspen Creek Academy to represent the town, to acknowledge our academic one-to-six curriculum, and to sever its close association with Estelle. I am also stepping back from its leadership. It’s time for me to move on.
The very competent teachers you see behind me will take over operations of the school and, I’m certain, ensure its continued success. ”
The room broke out in chatter, and this time there was no stopping it, but Frankie remained at the mic, her gaze going to Raymond, who was looking visibly pale beneath his tan. At the same time, Kayla and Matt stepped up closer behind her.
“Do the feedback thing again,” Kayla suggested when no natural lull in the conversations appeared.
“Good idea.” Frankie brought the mic closer to her lips and said, “One more thing.”
The siren-like note had the desired effect, and in two seconds, the room had stilled once more.
“In light of what I’ve shared with you, we up here all understand if you choose to forgo the festivities today or even to withdraw from the school altogether, but I want to plead with you not to make any rash decisions for Aspen Creek’s sake.
When Estelle and I moved here twenty-five years ago, this was a waning town.
Rich in history and tradition, but not a place with a real future.
But it turns out that people move where their children can thrive, and while I’m not so conceited as to think it was all Starview’s doing, we did turn the tide.
For that, if nothing else, we have Estelle to thank, and while her legacy is now tainted, I believe the school’s legacy is one to preserve. You are all part of that.
“That said, should you choose to leave today, and the auction fail to reach our funding goal, I want to assure you that we are not in dire straits anymore. We have a generous benefactor among us who has pledged to fund the school to ensure its continued success for at least another fifteen years—please give it up for my biological father, Mr. Raymond Clark.” She gestured to the man in question while locking him in her iciest glare.
Sporadic clapping commenced as some of those in attendance needed longer than others to put two and two together. It was easy to tell who still remembered her remark about Amber having her at fifteen by the craning necks and loathing gazes that followed.
To ensure there would be no public protestations from Ray, Frankie knew that Matt was currently gesturing the letters D-N-A to his dad.
There would be no way for him to get out of this.
He was now publicly committed to this ongoing patronage, while small-town talk would likely drive him out of Aspen Creek for good.
Matt had also promised that if his dad did put up a fight behind the scenes, he’d be happy to let Ray’s business associates in other cities and states know exactly who he was and what he’d done.
When Frankie had wrapped up the most unorthodox welcome speech of any fundraiser, Kayla pulled her into a tight hug. “You did the right thing,” she said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Frankie spotted her brother stalking out of the tent after their father. “Is Matt okay?” she asked. She knew what it felt like to be left without family, and she hated that she’d done that to him.
“He’s upset naturally,” Kayla said. “But he’ll be fine. I think he’s more worried about you. Starview has been your life. Aspen Creek is your home. Giving everything up seems so… drastic.”
Maybe so, but it wasn’t like she was planning on catching the first flight out tomorrow.
She’d take her time, complete the transfer of the school to the other teachers, sell Estelle’s house, make a plan.
She needed to talk to Owen. They’d both been through enough to bypass playing coy.
Maybe this exact moment wasn’t theirs, but someday soon she hoped that would change, and she thought he did too.
“There could be a multitude of places out there that fit me better,” she told Kayla. “That’s the thing—I won’t know unless I go. And I’m too closely tied to Estelle to stay with the school. If we want to contain the blowback, it’s better to make a clean cut. I want to see what else I can do.”
“So no regrets?” Kayla gestured to the audience that was still milling about the tent.
“No. They deserved to know. Estelle will always have her gold record and her standing as a vocalist, but it wouldn’t have been right to let these people continue to idolize her.
The only thing I still wish is that I could have done more to get justice for Amber, but she’s moved on and says she wants me to do the same. ”
“And will you be able to?”
Amber had assured Frankie that Ray suffering financially and socially, plus losing his only son’s esteem, was more than she’d expected or hoped for, and if she could look ahead, who was Frankie to cling to the past?
No one was leaving, she realized, looking out at her fellow Aspen Creekers.
A mass of people had congregated in front of the table with the baskets, two students who’d switched their violins for fiddles had their own audience clapping along outside, and beyond them, howls of laughter rose from the three-legged sack race.
The town, too, had chosen to put Estelle’s past aside and focus on the future of the school.
Kayla was right. Frankie’s life had played out here in this town, good parts and bad, and starting over someplace else would be a major change.
But in that lay adventure, possibilities, and freedom.
After everything she’d learned, after having been so wrong about that which she’d taken for granted, it felt okay to invite in a little ambiguity.
“I believe I will,” she said, looking out over the crowd below the stage.
There were the parents who alternated between rejoicing in and worrying about their children every day in the hopes of them thriving.
The teachers who relied on equal parts patience and passion to teach the next generation of musicians.
Her friends who’d saved a space for her in their hearts even when she was too preoccupied to inhabit it.
Thora, whose age brought both fragility and impressively strong connections.
Owen, who’d fought his way back to the surface against currents that worked to keep him down but lit up at the sight of her.
There would be ups and downs ahead, that much was certain. But as Frankie joined the festivities, she welcomed what Estelle had kept from her for so long—the autonomy to choose and to meet the consequences of those choices head-on, no matter what they were.
It was possible, likely even, that everything wouldn’t always be fine. But why that had once scared her, she could no longer remember.