Junie’s fourth birthday includes sandcastles, balloons, and birthday cake with the family, followed by a party with her preschool friends on Saturday. A few more days pass until an entire week has gone by without hearing from Frankie again. My texts go unanswered, and I don’t try calling.
But I do notice the construction at Sanctuary stops. The trucks are gone. The entrance to the beach is open. Mom and Dad don’t hear anything else after refusing Wild Coast’s lower offer for their avocados and beef.
More weeks pass, and regular school hours are back in session at Miss Merry’s. Monday morning, I drop off Junie and head to Flamingo’s by myself for the first time in months. It’s still not the same without Frankie. But even though I’m reminded of her everywhere I look, I like the company there.
I slide into the seat next to Barry’s, in the middle of the Oatmeal Mafia. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to recruit me. They’ve suggested I change my name to Gary. I’m considering.
Barry sets his Barry’s Bait and Tackle hat on the counterbetween us and smooths his hair—what little there is of it. “You know, my granddaughter’s coming to town, Gary.”
“Name’s still Cal, Barry. Haven’t officially changed it.” I hold up my coffee cup for Lindsay, the new waitress, to fill.
Although, I guess she’s not so new anymore.
“How you doing, Cal?” She flutters her fake eyelashes at me.
She’s cute but seeing her in the blond beehive wig just makes me wish it were Frankie wearing it.
“Good. Thanks.” I try not to make eye contact.
Her overt flirting makes me uncomfortable every time I come in. I might not mind it if she were good with Junie, but she’s not. She treats Junie like she’s an annoying appendage I’m planning to have removed.
“You remember her, right?” Barry asks.
“Who?” I’m grateful for someone else to look at besides Lindsay, but I have no idea what Barry’s talking about
“Emily. My granddaughter.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I nod.
I mentioned a few days ago that I hadn’t heard from Frankie. I guess the matchmaking to fill her place has begun.
Emily and I ran with some of the same kids in high school, but never really connected. She’s pretty. I should consider asking her out. But how would that be fair to her if I can’t stop thinking about Frankie?
“Let me think about it, Barry.”
“You know, Gary, I’ve got a niece,” Larry leans forward to tell me. “Jennifer.”
“Yeah, Lar. She used to be my babysitter.” I don’t bother looking at him. Jennifer’s at least ten years older than me and is in a committed relationship with a woman.
“Hey Cal…” Gerry says next to me.
“Yeah, Ger?” I’m ready to be offered adistant cousin or a neighbor’s brother’s sister-in-law’s daughter, but at least he called me by my name.
Instead, he passes me a copy of this morning’s edition ofLA Daily. “Did you see this?”
I assume he means the newspaper itself since I can’t remember the last time I actually read one in print instead of on a screen. But then I notice the headline. “Billionaire Malcolm Forsythe dead at 55.”
I start to read the article when Gerry flips the newsletter and points to the story below the Malcolm Forsythe article. “Another Resort. Same Broken Promises.” Written by Brandon McVey.
I don’t have to read it to sus out what it says.
I do anyway.
“Is that why she disappeared so fast?” Gerry asks after I refold the paper and pass it back to him.
I shake my head. “She's a silent partner. She doesn’t have any part in what Sanctuary is doing.”
“That’s not what the article says. Sounds like she knew it was coming and wanted to get ahead of it.” Under the anger in Gerry’s voice there’s hurt and betrayal.
