George’s outburst wasn’t irrational. He must have seen this entry and wondered the same thing I was now. She fled the room when I came in, not even trying to defend herself.
I needed answers, and I wasn’t leaving until I had some.
I slipped quietly out of the office. Collette had switched to playing outside. I spotted her dancing in the grass before I saw Frankie leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her through the window and worrying her thumb. Her posture stiffened when she noticed me enter the room. Her hand dropped, and she slipped into that hard-to-read place of neutrality.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“Napping.”
“You calm him down.” She stepped hesitantly in my direction.
“I’ve known him most of my life.” My body leaned to step toward her, but instead, I exhaled sharply. “What’s going on?”
Her nostrils flared subtly, but that was the only sign that she’d reacted at all. “Can you be more specific?”
“George is … He wasn’t this bad when I was here at Christmas. Not even the couple of times I visited since then,” I said.
She took a steadying breath in and out before answering. “Well, if you came more often.”
“I tried.” I ground my molars. “I’m sorry, who even are you?”
“Who am I? Who are you? You show up every few months and walk in like you have any right to question anything?” she said in return, pressing where I was the most sensitive.
“I’ve known George most of my life, and I’ve never even heard of you.”
“I’m Frankie Ricci. I work for your—for George.”
“Yeah, I saw the payments.” Frankie, I knew that was her name, but it just occurred to me now that this Frankie, Francesca, were the same person as the Frankie that George often spoke of. I had assumed it was a man.
She crossed her arms and scrutinized me, and I stepped forward to meet her in the middle of the room.
This was the opposite of our interaction on Main Street. Now, I was suspicious and careful. Full lips and sultry eyes wouldn’t fool me.
“Looking through his books? If you were worried about him, you would be here every day. Like I am.” She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at me.
I reared back. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she was right. I should have been here. I should have been here every day.
“You are—” She braced herself as I spoke. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze moved over my face, and shame burned my neck, but I let her see my sincerity. She sighed out a long breath. “I’m sorry too. That wasn’t fair. I’m defensive because … I don’t know. He’s never acted like that with me. He looked at me like I was worse than a stranger.” She stopped speaking abruptly, tucking her thumb tight in her palm before hugging it to her body.
“He’s getting worse?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question.
She nodded. “He’s been more scared lately, I think. Since his fall. Gets more confused easily.”
“Why haven’t you gotten help?” I asked.
“I’m doing my best. It wasn’t like this before.” She tossed her hands out to the side. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I-I didn’t want—” Her mouth pinched shut tight, and she looked to the side, arms crossed.
“Something else is happening here, and I need to understand,” I said sternly. Or as stern as I could manage.
Her foot tapped as she brought her thumb up to gnaw. She caught herself in time but continued to avoid my gaze.
“George accused you of stealing his manuscript. Payments in that ledger seem pretty high for just archiving work. Which, by the way, you’ve apparently been doing for over two years, yet when you look around this place, it doesn’t seem like much progress has been made.” Her fists balled tighter, her jaw clenched, but I wouldn’t stop now. I’d been fooled before. I wouldn’t let George take a hit on this. “George didn’t mention writing last I talked to him, but now he is? His publisher says this book has been pushed back so much that no more extensions are available. I’m getting so much conflicting information.” I waved my hands around my head. “And ultimately, I still don’t understand your role in all this.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what Icantell you.” She worried her bottom lip instead, with her teeth having given up on the thumb still safely tucked away in her palm.
“Can you start from the top? Who are you, and what do you want?” I asked.
