Chapter 27
Frankie used her tablet and stylus to sketch out the first illustration for the children’s book. When she was happy with it, she’d transfer the work to her laptop for finetuning.
She worked on the back deck, enjoying the view and the warm weather and the soft breezes that made it all bearable. Archie had come with her, too. He was lying on the deck, stretched out on his side, sleeping in a narrow strip of sunlight.
What a life this was. If not for all her responsibilities and the need to earn a living, she wouldn’t leave.
Harper might have something to say about that, however. Especially after last night’s discussion.
It hadn’t escaped Frankie’s notice that Harper had left the house pretty early this morning. Before Frankie had even come down. Whether or not Harper was deliberately avoiding talking about their mother, Frankie couldn’t be sure, but it was definitely the first thing that popped into her head.
The slider came open and Harper peeked out. “There you two are. Beautiful day, huh?”
Frankie nodded in agreement. “Very. I love working out here. It’s almost like not working at all.”
Harper laughed. “Archie’s not bothering you then?”
“Archie’s been comatose since about five minutes after we came out here.”
“He knows how to live, doesn’t he?”
“I’ll say. Where did you get off to?”
“I went next door to return Joyce’s container. You want an apple cinnamon muffin? She sent me home with four of them. They smell great.”
“Joyce of the oatmeal bars?”
“The one and only.”
Frankie nodded. “I could take a little break. But no more coffee. I’ve already reached my limit.”
“Oat milk?”
“Not even if I had a mouthful of sand.” Frankie set her stylus aside. “But I could use some water.” She got up. “I’ll get it.”
She went in behind Harper, both of them headed to the kitchen. “You were over there for a while. Joyce must be the chatty type.”
“Joyce wasn’t there until the very end, but Mitch was. We had a much better interaction than I expected. He actually invited me in for coffee and we talked a little.”
Frankie had a hard time believing that. “The same guy who yelled about Archie?”
Harper took the lid off the muffin container. “The same guy. I did apologize and tell him I was sorry we’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Not sure if that’s what changed things, but I suspect it had something to do with the letter Arlington left him.”
“Could be.” Frankie got a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with ice and water from the dispensers on the fridge.
Harper took two muffins out and resealed the container, then got herself a glass of oat milk.
Frankie had no idea how anyone could drink that, although looking at Harper’s figure made her slightly curious. Could oat milk really be the secret to looking that good? She prayed that it wasn’t.
They took their drinks and muffins out to the deck. Archie had changed positions but didn’t seem to be any more awake than he had been before.
They sat on the couch, using the coffee table for their mini-meal.
Frankie set her muffin down, moved her tablet and stylus out of the way, then took a long sip of water. She picked up the muffin and peeled part of the paper back. “All right. Tell me. What did you and the famous Mitchell Ripley talk about? I’m dying to know. And slightly jealous that you’re friends now.”
Harper snorted. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but we did talk. Mostly about his books and Arlington’s role in the series and Mitch’s late wife. She decorated the house and it’s really beautiful. Serene. Craftsman style, but not over the top. Really livable and cozy.”
“Sounds nice. Did you bring up his books or did he?”
“Wondering how egotistical he is?” Harper took a bite of her muffin.
“Something like that.” Frankie took a bite of hers, too. It was even better than the oatmeal bars. Fruity and warm with the kind of spices that went so well with apple. Cinnamon, clove, nutmeg. There were raisins and walnuts, too. “Wow, this is good.”
Harper nodded, still chewing. She swallowed before she spoke. “That Joyce can bake. And I brought up the books. I didn’t really mean to, but we were on the subject of Arlington and one thing led to another.”
“Was he nice then? And is he as handsome in person as he is in his author photo?”
“You saw him the other day out running.”
“Yes, but he was sweaty and wearing sunglasses.”
Harper laughed. “He’s not bad-looking. And he was mostly nice. More so after we started talking. He’s clearly struggling with some things. Still very much grieving his wife. I get the feeling that grief is making it hard for him to write.”
“I could see that,” Frankie said. “It’s not the same thing, obviously, but when I was going through the divorce, my illustration work suffered. When I was even able to do it. I kept at it, though, and eventually, being creative is what kept me sane. It became an outlet for me. Although, like I said, not initially.”
Harper turned to see her sister better. “So how did you stay creative when you didn’t feel like it?”
Frankie thought a minute. “Sheer determination, I guess. I just didn’t let myself quit. I hated what I was producing. It was dark and angry and nothing like my usual work, but I figured better to get that out than keep it in. After a while, it was out. And I began to create pieces that looked more like what I’d done in happier times.”
“Good for you. A lot of people would have given up.”
“I couldn’t. I had bills to pay and the only way to make extra money was through my art. My little online shop doesn’t get a ton of business, but it does get some. Besides that, putting new product out made me feel like I was doing something positive.”
“I can see that. I’m proud of you, you know.”
Frankie glanced over, surprised. “You are?”
“You bet. You’ve had a couple of rough years, but you got yourself and your kids through it. Without needing therapy.”
“I don’t know. I think we both could have benefited from some of that. Speaking of which…”
Harper sighed. “I know. You want to talk about her again.”
“I’m not trying to rush the conversation, but Shar’s waiting for an answer.”
Harper grabbed her glass, nearly sloshing oat milk over the top. “She’s in no position to demand anything.”
“She isn’t demanding anything. But I do want to meet her, and I’ve said as much. It’s really just me waiting on you now.”
Harper ate more of her muffin before answering. “Does she know about me? That you and I are in contact with each other?”
“She does.”
“Does she know we weren’t adopted together? That we didn’t get to grow up as siblings because of her? That our childhoods were destroyed because of her actions?”
Frankie tried not to react in a negative manner. She didn’t want to get Harper any more riled up than she already was. “I didn’t tell her that, no. I’m sorry you had such a hard time with things. My childhood was pretty good.”
Harper frowned and stared toward the water while she picked off tiny pieces of the muffin and ate them. “My childhood got better after I was adopted, but I always knew about you. Always knew you were missing. But it was because of your parents and their digging that we were able to reunite. My parents tried but that was right around the time my dad passed.”
“That had to be so hard.”
“It was. But I’ll always be grateful to your folks for getting us back together.”
“Me, too.” Frankie glanced down. “But you can’t blame me for not remembering more. I was practically a baby.”
“I know. And I don’t blame you.” Harper heaved out a breath and shifted positions. “But the fact remains that I have a lot of unresolved issues and anger over what she did to us. Issues and anger you don’t seem to have because you were younger.”
She looked at her sister. “I wish I’d been younger, too. I wish I hadn’t been able to remember life before foster care.” She paused a moment. “I wish I didn’t have all this anger. Maybe…maybe meeting her and hearing her side of things would help that.”
Frankie leaned forward, not sure she’d heard her sister correctly. “You mean that?”
Harper ripped the last piece of muffin in two and shrugged. “I guess so. I was about to say things couldn’t get worse, but they could. I just hope they don’t.”
Frankie sat back. She hoped they didn’t, either, but she also knew it was entirely possible.
Harper ate the last of the muffin and stood, washing it down with oat milk. “I have a few emails to send, a little work to do. And I know you do. Why don’t we do what we need to do and plan on watching a movie tonight?”
“Sounds good. I’d love a few more hours of work on this book.”
“Perfect. See you for dinner then.” Harper glanced at Archie. “Let me know if he has to go out. I should walk him at some point today.”
“How about right before dinner we both take him?”
Harper smiled. “Yeah, that would be good for all three of us.”
She went inside, leaving Frankie with her thoughts.
She picked up her laptop and tapped the keyboard to bring the screen to life. She had to figure out where a good meeting place was, then email Shar back to see what dates worked for her.
She’d said she was willing to come on short notice. Frankie prayed she meant that. Now that Harper had agreed to meet, Shar changing her mind would only make Harper angrier.
Although she’d seemed calmer today than she had last night.
Maybe Mitch and his grief had put some things in perspective for her? Frankie wasn’t sure, but she wanted this meeting to happen as soon as possible so that neither Harper—nor Shar—changed their minds.