Chapter 11
Frankie took a second sip of her wine before retreating to one of the counter stools. She thought about how best to answer those questions. “The kids are good. Jason’s marriage has been a little up and down, but they’re working on it. Willa’s still focused on her doctorate in education, so she’s busy with that. My life is all right. I’m glad for the summer break. I’m illustrating a children’s book right now. Or about to start, I should say.”
“That sounds pretty exciting.”
“It is,” Frankie said. “I’m glad to have the work. I can’t really do too much illustrating during the school year because I’m just so busy, but summer break is the perfect opportunity to take on extra work. I could use the money, too.”
“Don’t assistant principals get paid pretty decently?”
Frankie nodded. “Yes, but the divorce kind of left me in a bad spot. You know that.”
Harper nodded. “I do. I guess I wasn’t sure where you were with all of that.” She took the lid off the pot of water and dumped in a bag of what looked like high-end penne pasta.
“Fancy pasta,” Frankie said. Any pasta that came in a fancy bag instead of a box was high-end to her.
“I like the good stuff,” Harper said. “So? How are things post-divorce?”
“I’m still recovering financially, is how things are,” Frankie answered. “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I might be recovering for years to come.”
“That bad?”
Frankie sighed. “I had to borrow money from my parents to pay for the attorney and even though they’ve said I don’t have to pay it back, I want to. It’s not fair to them not to. They aren’t rich.”
Harper nodded, sympathy on her face.
Frankie sat back and asked a tough question. “How’s your mom?”
Harper’s face immediately changed into an expression that said there was no great answer. “She’s not well. The dementia is winning. She no longer knows who I am and, frankly, I’ve stopped visiting. She gets so angry at me and there’s nothing I can do about it. The staff said it would be better for her not to get riled up, so…” Harper shrugged. The pain in her eyes was clear.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.” Harper gave her a quick, sad smile, then stirred the pasta. Once that was done, she opened the bag of frozen peas, then moved on to juicing the lemon into a small bowl. “I’m glad your parents are doing well. They are, aren’t they?”
Frankie swirled the wine in her glass. “They are. Mom still walks a mile every morning. Dad has coffee once a week with his buddies from the FOP. They both volunteer at the church a bit, too. They stay busy.”
“The FOP?”
“Fraternal Order of Police.”
“Oh, right.”
This felt like the opening Frankie had been looking for. The way to tell Harper what she’d really been up to for most of the year.
Harper stirred the pasta again. “Well, this might sound callous, but I’m glad my dad went so quickly. The suddenness of his heart attack was hard on me and my mom, but he didn’t have to watch her decline. And he didn’t have to suffer through a long illness, either. Strange to think of a heart attack as a blessing, but when compared to what my mother’s going through, it definitely seems better.”
“No, I get it,” Frankie said. This wasn’t the moment. Harper needed to be in a good place mentally. Frankie changed the subject. “This house was quite a gift from Arlington.”
“Tell me about it. He used to talk about his beach cottage in Florida all the time. I never had any idea it looked like this.”
“You must have been floored when you showed up here if you thought it was going to be a cottage.”
“I didn’t think I was at the right place. I checked the address three times, but then again, they had me down as the owner at the guard hut, so obviously I was.” Harper gave the bacon a stir.
“And the key worked.”
Harper laughed. “As did the alarm code, thankfully. Arlington left an escrow account set up to pay the taxes and utilities on this place, too, along with a few other things. Enough to cover the next five years.”
Frankie leaned in. “Seriously? That’s amazing. You’re going to stay here, right?”
Harper shook her head. “That wasn’t my plan. Just to get away while things calm down. If they calm down.” She suddenly cleared her throat. “Which I’m sure they will. Do you mind a little black pepper?”
“No, that’s fine.” Something was up. Why would Harper think the news about her breakup with Ford Keating might not go away? It was like she expected something worse to come from it.
“Were you his assistant? Is that what you’re worried about people finding out?”
“No. I didn’t work for him. We met at Arlington’s funeral and just got to talking. Mostly about Arlington, but we hit it off.”
“I see.” Except Frankie didn’t. Not really. Harper was acting like there was something serious to be worried about and Frankie just didn’t get it. But she wasn’t in the mood to dig deeper. She’d only arrived, and she just wanted to have a good time with her sister. She wanted to catch up and reconnect and keep things on a good level.
Then, when the moment was right, she’d share the big news she’d been holding back. She really had no idea how Harper would react. She might love it. And she might be totally against it. “What can I help with? Doesn’t seem fair that you’re doing all the work.”
“You opened the wine.”
Frankie nodding, smiling. “True, but that wasn’t exactly hard. Do you want me to set the table?”
“I was thinking we’d just take our plates outside. There’s a table out there. If that’s all right with you?”
“I love that idea. What’s the point of having this kind of view if you don’t take it in?”
“My thoughts exactly.” Harper opened a few cabinets, both top and bottom, until she found a strainer. She put it in the sink, then went back to the pasta and tested a piece of it. “Just about done.”
She added a decent glug of white wine to the pan with the bacon, then the lemon juice and mixed it with a wooden spoon.
“That smells so good,” Frankie said. “How did you learn to make this dish?”
“I’ve picked up a lot of great dishes from my clients. I know most people think Hollywood celebrities all have personal chefs, and to some extent, that’s true, but a lot of them know how to cook, too. Mostly because going out to eat generally becomes more of a bother than it’s worth.”
Frankie rested her elbow on the counter and leaned her chin on her hand. “That has to be such a hard way to live. Always being watched. Chased after, even, in some circumstances.”
Harper dumped the peas and chicken into the sauté pan as well, then did some more stirring. “It’s incredibly hard.”
“I guess you’re feeling a little bit of that right now, aren’t you?”
“Some. Yes. Nothing like what real celebrities go through, though.” Harper’s brow furrowed and she chewed her bottom lip. She quickly moved to empty the pasta into the strainer. A wall of steam hid her from Frankie for a moment.
Something was definitely bothering Harper. Something more than what she’d told Frankie, obviously. Frankie was concerned, but as curious as she was, she was not going to pry. If Harper wanted to talk about whatever was going on, she’d bring it up.
Or she wouldn’t.
Either way, it was Harper’s business. She and Frankie were getting closer as time passed, but they weren’t the kind of sisters who told each other everything.
Not yet anyway. Maybe that would change soon.
Or maybe Frankie’s revelation would put them right back to square one.