Chapter 6
Note to self:
Rearrange all of Frankie’s kitchen cabinets while he’s at work.
And hide his hair gel.
Frankie was waiting by my front door when I arrived home, still in his uniform from working a ten-hour shift overnight. Like everything in his life, Frankie took his job seriously, right down to the creases in his uniform pants. He worked out every day, ate the recommended number of calories to maintain his physique, and made sure to get the right amount of sleep to keep him alert.
And although he’d never admit it, he spray-tanned on the regular. Ruth happened to work at a tanning salon. I couldn’t confirm which came first—the spray tan or the girlfriend—but it all led down the same path. My meathead brother, with his obsession for rules, and slightly orange skin.
He was also my next-door neighbor. Mom loved this arrangement. She had a built-in snitch.
“Hello, brother, dear.” I bounced up the steps to my front door and opened it.
Frankie pursed his lips. “You left it unlocked again.”
“Oh, whoops.” Of course, I left my apartment unlocked. This was Two Harts. I did lock it at night but otherwise, technically anyone could walk right in and make themselves at home when I was gone.
After slipping off my shoes, I wandered into the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water for Frankie and me and then wandered back into the living room and flopped on the recliner. I loved my little apartment with its big picture windows that allowed light to stream in in the mornings. The couch was an indiscriminate tan but covered in colorful throw pillows to distract from its boringness. Any space that could hold a picture frame, did. The walls were crammed with photographs of all the people I loved—my parents, my brothers, Mae, and, yes, Theo.
“You need to lock it, Ali.” He followed me inside. “Things happen. Last night, we got called to the Sinclairs for a possible prowler.”
The Sinclairs lived two streets over from me and a block away from a certain mayor. “Oh, a prowler? What happened?”
Frankie threw himself on my couch and caught the water bottle I tossed him. “Someone stole their garden gnomes.”
“No way.” I took a gulp of my water to hide my grin.
“Yep.” He stretched out on the couch, the hand with the water bottle dangling over the side and his other arm over his eyes.
“That’s crazy.”
“Crazy is one way to describe it,” he muttered. “The funny thing is that we got called to Peter Stone’s house this morning and can you guess what we found?”
“A whiny man-child with strong narcissistic leanings?”
He lifted his arm and turned his head enough to glare at me. “We found the gnomes, doing very un-gnomelike things, by the way.”
“Do we know what gnomes do in their private lives? Sounds pretty judgmental if you ask me.”
He grunted. “We also found lots of other things that came from a lot of neighbors’ yards. All over Peter’s lawn.”
I tsked. “Who would have thought the mayor was behind all this? I hope he was arrested. It’s not safe for him to roam around. You know the saying: gnomes today, public statues tomorrow.”
Ignoring me, he waved his water bottle in my direction. “I managed to divert their attention away from you, sis. You’re welcome.”
“Aw, shucks. You do love me.”
“However, I could always tell Mom.”
“You wouldn’t.” But it had been established long ago that he could.
“Unless you can make it worth it for me to keep my mouth closed.”
“Does your boss the sheriff know about your proclivity to blackmail me?”
Frankie swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “Mario actively encourages it.”
“Whatever.”
He stood and waltzed to the door. “Two dozen chocolate chip cookies should do it.”
“Fine.” I sighed. “Hey, before you go, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Hypothetically, if Abe showed up to Cal’s wedding, what do you think Dad would do?”
Frankie blinked, surprise written on his face. After a moment of thought, he shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I could say I knew for sure he could forgive and move on, but Dad and Abe were always butting heads over every little thing. It sure would be nice to see him, though.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sat, staring at the door long after Frankie left, wondering if this might be my chance to finally correct the mistake I’d made eleven years ago. Or if it was a disaster waiting to happen.