“No worries. People have said worse about me.” A subtle shift happens in Frankie’s voice—in her face. She’s all politeness and good manners. Her playfulness is gone. Or, at least, hidden. Tucked away for safety.
Cassidy’s eyes narrow. She feels the shift, too. “I’m trying to apologize here.”
“No need,” Frankie returns, growing more guarded.
“It’s just, you need to understand that?—"
“—Frankie’s our guest, Cass,” I warn, trying to keep things friendly.
“That’s right,” Mom says in a soft, warning tone. “We’re eating. We can do hard conversations another day.”
With that, everything rewinds. Cassidy picks apart her sandwich while Frankie shifts toward Hayes who jumps right back into flirting with her quicker than he gets on his feet after being thrown from a bull. Under the pretense of getting another sandwich, Bennett joins in, too, sitting in front of Frankie. I catch Wes shifting back and forth, angling for a better view of Frankie now that Ben’s blocking him.
I’m entertained enough by it all, with the way she teases, not quite flirting, but not quitenotflirting.
Junie, however, doesn’t like competing for attention. More than once she takes Frankie’s face in her hands and turns it back toward her to ask a question or point out something she’s already shown Frankie.
On her third attempt to win Frankie back from my brothers, I stand. “June Bug, come sit with Daddy. Let Frankie talk.”
“No, Dad. Frankie’s my guest,” she says firmly, wiggling deeper into Frankie’s lap.
Frankie glances at me but keeps talking as she winds her arm around Junie’s waist and gives her a little squeeze.
And I don’t know who I’m more jealous of, my brothers or my kid.
“Do you picnic out here often?” Frankie asks Mom between bites of her sandwich.
“We used to when we were kids,” Bennett answers for her. “Except it wasn’t this fancy. Peanut butter and jelly, and bags of potato chips whenever Mom was too tired to cook.”
“Which was most nights with these five.” Mom draws an accusing finger around our circle, incriminating each of us.
“You didn’t need to go to the work tonight,” Wes—always protective of Mom—grumbles.
“We rarely have visitors. I have to play hostess when I can.” As if to prove her point, Mom passes the container of watermelon to Frankie.
We all burst out laughing—except for Frankie, who looks at us, curious.
“Rarely means we haven’t had anybody out here for a couple weeks,” Bennett explains.
“Jo keeps us pretty booked with visitors.” Dad leans forward to massage Mom’s shoulders again.
“What can I say? I like people.” Mom smiles and leans into Dad’s touch.
“I like Fwankie!” Junie cheers and maneuvers in Frankie’s lap to throw her arms around her neck, nearly bowling both of them over.
“I’m keen on you, too, Junie,” Frankie laughs.
“We all like Frankie, don’t we June?” Mom tickles Junie’s side. “Should we keep her for a while?”
“Yes!” Junie shouts.
Frankie’s smile drops. She’s got that startled look in her eyes again—skittish, like she might bolt, or crumble under all the unexpected affection.
“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Cheers.I like you too.”
“Tell us about your family, Frankie,” Mom says, smoothing over the awkwardness that’s crept in.
“We already know about her dad,” Cassidy says, obviously still smarting from her failed apology.
