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“I’m confused.” I blink. “Whowants to get married?”
“Alice.” He lifts his head, and his face crumples. When he moans, my heart goes out to him. The guy sounds like a wounded animal, and I can’t stand seeing anyone suffer. Even Franklin Crane.
“You and Alice broke up?” I ask, softly.
Frank nods and grunts at the same time Clive whistles loudly through his teeth. I look over at the grill, and Clive points at Frank and me, motioning for us to join him.
“What doeshewant?” Frank asks, tugging his ear. Clive flips a row of patties and glances our way again, waiting for us to come over.
I shrug. “I have no idea.”
“Welp,” Frank grumbles, “guess we’d better find out.” He lopes toward the grill with both hands stuffed in his pockets. I hurry after him, hoping Clive hasn’t figured out who Frank is. And that he’s not about to bring up—
“Are you Spencer’s brother?” Clive asks.
Yep. He figured it out.
“I am,” Frank says.
“Is that your car?” Clive nods to indicate the Mustang parked across the way.
Yep. He brought it up.
Frank rubs at his chin. “How did you know?”
Clive lifts his spatula, triumphantly. “You look enough like Spencer for me to connect the dots. I was admiring the vehicle earlier, and Spencer informed me it belongs to you. What a beauty. It’s a ’65, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s right,” Frank mumbles.
“I’m Clive Pendergast.” He sticks out his free hand to shake Frank’s.
“Frank Crane,” he grunts, looking at Clive and shifting his weight. Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out how to shift the subject. To anything but cars and Spencer.
“Well.” Clive glances at the patties on the grill, then back at us. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow automobile lover. Especially one related to Spencer.”
Oof. That topic is pretty muchjustcars and Spencer. So my mind is racing now. Frank could decide to tell Clive about the bet just to make Spencer look bad. Like a guy who can’t get a date. That’s definitely in Frank’s nature. If he does that, I’ll have to decide whether or not to act surprised about the bet.
And my acting is worse than my yodeling.
“Fix Dodd is the one who got Clive the job here,” I blurt out, even though I’m sure Frank doesn’t care. But I’m scrambling to talk about something else. Anything else. “They met overseas,” I add. “Fix and Clive, I mean. Clive is British, in case you couldn’t tell from his accent.”
“Oh, yeah?” Frank grunts again. Apparently two words is his max with Clive.
“Also, his lasagna and garlic bread are excellent,” I continue. “Just stay away from the fish sticks and macaroni.” I poke Clive’s arm. “Am I right? Heh heh heh.”
Fantastic. My forced laughter is worse than my yodeling and acting combined.
“You’ll have to pardon me,” Clive says. “But it’s time to transfer some of these patties onto serving platters. So many burgers, so little time.”
“Need any help?”
He winks. “I’ve got this, Tess.”
So while Clive begins moving the cooked burgers onto platters, I take the opportunity to move Frank away from the grill area. The man can say breaking up with Alice is for the best, but his slumped shoulders tell another story. I’d love to make up an excuse to leave him, but he looks so sad about Alice. Frank may not be the nicest man in the world, but no one deserves to be alone when they’re this heartbroken.
He blows out a breath. “Where is Spencer, anyway?” He glances around. “I thought he’d beat me here.” Ahhh. A new topic! Bless you and your coveralls, Franklin Crane.
“His old roommates are in town,” I say. “For a reunion or something. I think that’s what Milo said.”
