Page 111 of For the Love of Art

The next morning, I was a bundle of nerves as I opened the door to the cheese shop. The storefront was empty, which was strange considering the door was unlocked.

“Hello?” I called out into the empty shop.

“Well, well, well!” Frankie came from the back, his voice shrill. “Look who finally showed up!”

I rolled my eyes. “Frankie.”

“I must say, I was incredibly hurt when you told us you were leaving the city the long weekend,” Frankie continued, ignoring my annoyance. “The Fourth of July is our thing. Well, I suppose it used to also involve Don, but he was dead weight, and I thank whatever deity rules over the hell hole that is earth that–”

“Where’s Lianne?” I interrupted him.

Frankie’s brows furrowed. “You haven’t heard from her?”

I shook my head. “I tried texting, but she never responded.”

Frankie’s face dropped, and he looked like he wanted to tell me something but was nervous to. I instantly felt worried.

“Did something happen to her?”

Frankie clicked his tongue. “This weekend, she invited that Andrew guy to our festivities, and he said he was coming and then ghosted her.”

My heart sank. “Oh no.”

Frankie nodded. “Yeah. She played it off like she was okay, but then she texted yesterday and said she was taking a day for herself today, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of her since.”

“Shit,” I whispered.

Frankie crossed his arms. “You look like you know something.”

“I have a few somethings to get off my chest,” I admitted.

Frankie’s brows lifted. “Really?”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and my insides roiled.

“Isla, sweetie.” Frankie pulled me into a hug, and I clutched my friend tightly as more tears fell. “I’ll make some tea. Let’s talk.”

I sniffled as I let Frankie take my hand and lead me to the back. “Tea. Fitting since I have a bunch to spill.”

Frankie chuckled as he pulled out a chair and helped me sit like I was physically broken instead of emotionally.

Frankie flipped on the electric kettle before going back to the front of the store. He flipped the sign to closed and locked the door before returning and grabbing two bags of his Creamy Earl Grey tea that he never shared. His mom sent it to him from a specialty shop in his hometown in Iowa.

I sighed. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Frankie poured the hot water over the tea bags and set one in front of me. “With tea and a best friend.”

I pulled the mug closer and breathed in the tea's velvety vanilla and citrusy bergamot smell. I lifted the mug to my lips and took a sip.

“Now,” Frankie laced his fingers and leaned toward me, “what’s going on?”

I pressed my lips together, fresh tears forming in my eyes. “I still don’t know where to begin.”

“The beginning, of course,” Frankie joked, then grew more serious. “Did something happen this weekend?”

“Yes, but it really started with Don.”

Frankie looked confused. “Was he there?”