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His cheeks were ruddy, and despite the fact that I was definitely going to miss the extra income from the mother-in-law, I didn’t want to be a jerk and stand in the way of love.
“Hey,” I said, setting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s really not a big deal. You can leave whenever you want. Just let me know when so I can start looking for a new tenant, all right?”
His wan face brightened. “Really? In that case, I’ll probably be out this weekend. I, uh, already kind of started moving my stuff over there.”
“Aw, Pete, you old softie,” Joni said. “You got it bad, don’t you?”
Pete, a man I’d never seen exhibit much in the way of emotion, blushed from head to toe. “When you know, you know, right?” he said. “Anyway, thanks again, Frankie. Been a pleasure renting from you guys.”
“You too, Pete. I’ll talk to Matthew about your deposit and everything.”
He left, and then I resumed my seat with my sisters while they continued to gossip about our siblings and other bits and pieces of drama in their lives. I, however, was already preoccupied.
With Pete moving out, I was losing my tenant, yes, but also the last remnant of life with my brother. I had originally planned to put that money toward payments to buy the house properly from Matthew and Nina. Now I’d have to find a new tenant, which sounded horrible, especially given the fact that in a matter of months, I’d be right back on the landing again in order to give the other bedroom to the baby-to-be.
I could ask Xavier for money to cover the cost of keeping the basement to myself, but after today’s events, I already knew that would come with more strings than I was willing to deal with. Kissing strings. Family strings.
In a single day, more questions were coming up than I had answers to, and I didn’t like that feeling. Not one bit.
ELEVEN
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I really am. But we have to let you go.”
When it rains, it really, really pours. I’m not talking buckets of rain or a silly little thundershower. I’m talking a hurricane out of nowhere.
One week after Pete gave his notice and Xavier made his explosive pronouncements on the pier, my mouth fell open, and my eyes flew up from where I’d been covertly peeling dried tempera paint from my fingertips.
“You have to what?” I asked.
Principal Stewart, better known to me as Carrie, the kindly woman with ashy-blond hair who ran staff meetings, bought everyone a round of drinks at the end of the school year and sometimes provided a place to send unruly students, just looked at me with sympathy across her desk.
“For what it’s worth, we really are sad to be losing you,” she said. “You’re a good teacher, Frankie, and the kids will miss you. I’m happy to write you a glowing reference, no matter what you choose to do.”
My brow wrinkled into a web of lines—I felt like I was lost and unable to read a map. “I don’t understand. What have I done to deserve being fired in the middle of the school year?”
The teacher shortage in New York was well known. People didn’t lose their jobs unless serious stuff went down, like endangering students or sexual assault.
Carrie sighed. “It’s not really you, Frankie. It’s…the complications you’ve brought with you this year.” When I continued to stare like she was talking gibberish, Carrie pointed to her window. We both followed the gesture toward the spot on the other side of the school fence, where, yes, a few photographers lay in wait under a molting maple tree.
I blinked. “You’re firing me for a couple of tabloid photographers?”
Carrie grimaced. “It’s two now. There will be another three or four by the end of the day. You said they would lose interest—”
“And they have,” I interrupted. “There were at least a dozen here the day that story broke in thePost.”
“Yes, and since your—Mr.—er—the duke—”
“Xavier,” I said. “You can just call him my daughter’s father. And there was only one photographer here yesterday at this time.”
“Sinceheannounced this morning that he is possibly opening another restaurant in the city,” Carrie continued like I hadn’t said anything, “and thePostthought that running another feature on your mother would be a good idea, I think it’s fair to say their interest isn’t waning.”
I swallowed back a lump newly forming in my throat. When Xavier’s text from London a few days ago had told me the same news, I had initially been happy, if only because it would give him a legitimate reason to be in New York and close to Sofia before the baby was born. I knew it was only a temporary fix, but I liked the idea of not being his primary focus, given the current tension between us.
The feature on my mother, however, was something I was just trying to ignore.
“I—but—I’m not at fault here, Carrie,” I said. “I haven’t done anything but exist.”
I hated the pity that sprang into her eyes. I hated even more that a part of me knew this was coming. It’s not like I hadn’t heard the whispers of staff behind my back over the last few weeks. Wondering if I was going to stay a teacher when I was getting my fifteen minutes of fame.
