“Think about the person you want to be,” Wesley said. “Not the person you think you are.”
I held his gaze for a moment before nodding and ending the call.
“Right. Let’s get dinner started,” I said.
Frankie needed help. Collette and George and the archiving and the book. The book. It all had to be written, and she was one woman trying to do it all. It would be like a screenwriter trying to produce, act, and film an entire movie.
After dinner, I read to Collette and situated George in his favorite chair with a book. He was drowsing before I left the room.
I found Frankie staring out the kitchen window into the now dark evening.
“Tea has been poured. George’s way. Lesson learned. I apparently didn’t pour it right the first time,” I said.
“Ah, yes, I learned that the hard way too. Milk first,” she said and smiled.
I shuddered. “Sometimes I don’t believe he’s from England. And Collette finally fell asleep. I read her the one about the unicorn.”
Frankie nodded. “A classic.”
“Collette only complained ‘that’s not the way Frankie does the voice’ a dozen times.” I slumped into one of the wooden chairs at the breakfast nook.
She chuckled. “Sorry about that. She has this thing where however it was done the first time means it has to be done that way in perpetuity.”
“Tough crowd.” I pretended to yank at a tie I wasn’t wearing.
“Thank you for doing all that. You really didn’t have to,” she said, finally turning from the view to look at me. She took a deep breath in and out before she met my awaiting gaze. She was so beautiful, but that tension around her eyes spoke of exhaustion on a deep level.
Almost as though she was doing the job of several people.
“You can’t do this alone,” I said and flinched. “Bullocks. I’m sorry. That’s very presumptive of me to walk into one hour of this and say that.”
She only raised her eyebrow but didn’t disagree.
“What I meant was, you should get help. Can you get help?” I asked.
She spun her mug on the counter by its handle. She had one leg propped up on the other knee, like a sort of flamingo stance. “A cleaner comes every other week for a deep clean. And gardeners. I don’t have to worry about anything on the estate so long as nothing changes,” she explained.
“But Collette?” I hedged.
“That’s a little more complicated. She's staying here for now.”
“But you are her caretaker?”
She sucked in her lips, debating. “Technically, George has temporary guardianship. And that’s murky at best. But as you probably guessed, that situation needs to change.” Her leg dropped from its perch. “I was okay leaving her with George before, but not since the fall.”
“Right.” Anxiety tightened my gut.
“I’m hoping that they—George’s team—might allow a stipend to help with her care. Collette goes to school a lot of days, but if she’s off or it’s a weekend, I-I could use some help,” she admitted as though she were confessing a terrible sin.
“Bloody right!” I said, becauseobviously.
She frowned with a sigh. “I feel like I should be able to handle it all. Like I should be thankful I even have the opportunity to help. So many people would be thrilled to work for George. But there are so many things that need to get done. What ends up happening is that I just feel like I’m doing a lot of things poorly and not a single thing right.” She closed her eyes briefly. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m unloading on you like this.”
Because you trust me. Because you need help. Because you feel like you’ve known me too …
“So what does that consist of?” I asked. She frowned, and I clarified. “What would you hire someone to do to help with Collette?”
“Oh, that? The rearing of a child? Oh you know, just sprinkle some straw and apple cores in her trough, and she’ll be fine.”
