A silver lining, p.9
A Silver Lining, page 9
But Frankie didn’t know how old Zane was. She also didn’t care. Age was just a number, after all.
Already that morning, Zane had sent her a text: Good morning, beautiful. I had such a wonderful time last night.
This was nothing a college boy ever would have done. This was a new league.
Frankie’s father pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Frankie carried the salad inside, following the arrival of her mother and her sister, Rick, coming in last. They were immediately welcomed with what felt like a thousand hugs and well-wishes. It hadn’t been so long since her grandpa Grant’s birthday party, but everyone acted as though it had been years. Grandma Katrina kissed Frankie on both cheeks and gushed, “Don’t you look beautiful!”
Just a few days ago, Frankie might have thought her grandmother was being overly kind about her looks to compensate for Frankie’s weight gain. But right now, Frankie felt gorgeous. So she smiled back and said, “You look beautiful, too, Grandma.”
Frankie dropped the salad off in the kitchen and said hello to the other Colemans: Hilary, Samantha, and their daughters, Darcy and Aria. Samantha’s other daughter was in Rome, working at a restaurant, and Darcy and Samantha missed her and spoke of her often. Sometimes, this filled Frankie with dread. What if Nellie moved to Rome someday? And what would actually happen when Nellie returned to college in a couple of weeks and left Frankie alone in Nantucket? But these were worries for other days.
Sam ushered Frankie, Nellie, Aria, Hilary, Darcy, Ida, Sophie, Estelle, and Grandma Katrina out onto the veranda. They carried chilled wine, olives, peppers filled with cheese, pretzels, chips, pita bread, and hummus. Dinner was later, but at family parties, eating was an essential part of the bonding process. “Being too full to eat” didn’t exist. Second and third helpings were necessary.
“Tell us, Frankie,” Grandma Katrina said, raising her glass of wine. “How did it go in Manhattan this week?”
Frankie peered at her Grandma, struggling to remember what she was talking about. Manhattan? When had she gone to Manhattan?
“Your job interview,” Nellie muttered.
“Ah! My job interview.” Frankie rubbed the back of her neck and realized she hadn’t told anyone about the email. Everyone still thought the job was a potential next step. “It was pretty good.”
Grandma Katrina’s eyes were illuminated. “Brilliant. Can you imagine? Our girl Frankie in the big city!”
“What did they ask you in the interview?” Sam asked.
“Lots of stuff,” Frankie said, although she couldn’t fully remember anything about the interview save for the fact that she’d wept afterward. “You know, typical stuff. Like what would I bring to the work environment?”
“Only joy,” Hilary said.
“Right. And she can make killer banana bread,” Ida said with a smile.
Frankie’s smile felt strained. Although it felt fine to lie to everyone else, lying to her mother about the potential job felt sour.
“When will they let you know?” Darcy asked.
“Probably this week,” Frankie said. “Or next.”
“I hate that they make you wait that long,” Grandma Katrina said with a sad shake of her head.
There was a strange silence over the table. Frankie raised her glass of wine.
“But I have a job in the meantime,” she added. “Something to pick up the slack until I find something more permanent.”
Immediately, the table exploded with questions. What do you mean? You got another job already? How? What is it? The questions came from everywhere, demanding more of her than she knew how to give. Because the truth was, she didn’t fully know what gig Zane was offering her. She just knew that she really wanted to do whatever he said. She wanted to link her life with his.
“It’s some copywriting stuff,” she said. “Freelance.”
“Wow.” Ida looked impressed. “I always knew you would want to work for yourself.”
Frankie smiled. “It’ll be cool to make my own hours.”
“And you can save up a little bit before you move to the city,” Grandma Katrina pointed out.
“Yes. That’s great,” Frankie said.
Nellie gave her a side-eyed look that meant, Don’t push it.
Nellie wasn’t as convinced about Zane’s job offer as Frankie was. She’d asked several times last night, “What if you stop dating? Will he just fire you immediately? And what are the specifics? Will there be a contract? Is it legal?” Frankie had been surprised at how “business-oriented” her sister’s mind was. But she remembered what Zane had said about Frankie. She thought outside the box. She was different. Maybe Nellie just didn’t think outside the box as much. Maybe that was okay.
Dinner was served not long after that. There was a spread of roasted chicken on the grill, burgers, steaks, plus plenty of side dishes. Frankie filled her plate and overheard her mother telling her father about her “side hustle” of copywriting and freelancing.
“That’s fantastic!” Rick told her mother.
Frankie kept her head down. She didn’t want them to know she overheard. A blush crawled up her arms and neck.
After dinner, Frankie and Nellie went to the beach with their second cousins to catch up without the older adults around. Charlie’s daughters pulled off their shirts and stretched out in their swimsuits in the sun, gleaming and bronzed after a long summer in Nantucket. Aria pulled her red hair into a ponytail and met Frankie’s gaze.
“My dad said something was up with your mom’s business?” Aria said.
Frankie cocked her head. “There was an accident the other night, I guess.”
Thinking about that night on the Benson yacht made her head spin. It felt so long ago.
Aria’s eyes flashed. “My dad was saying something else, actually.” She lowered her voice. “He said it might have to close?”
Frankie’s blood pressure spiked. “Where did he hear that?”
Frankie considered Aria’s father, Marc, who’d moved to Nantucket full-time last year after many decades in San Francisco. He and Hilary had decided to revamp their romance to invigorate it, and Marc had abandoned his friends and his close professional circles. At the time, Frankie and Nellie had called it “really romantic.” But now, Frankie wondered if Marc was too bored of his life here, so bored that he needed to gossip about the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers.
“My dad has a lot of contacts,” Aria said. “One of them mentioned that they’re struggling.”
“My mom’s business is not struggling,” Frankie assured her. “I mean, she’s stressed all the time. But that’s no different from any other year.”
Aria stitched her eyebrows together and turned back to say something to Marcy, who was smearing sunscreen over her shoulders.
Frankie twisted around to look at Nellie. Nellie watched the water contemplatively, her hands stretched across the sand and her long legs out in front of her.
“You haven’t heard that, have you?” she asked Nellie. “Anything about Mom’s business?”
“She hasn’t been sleeping,” Nellie said after a pause.
Overhead, a seagull swooped and cawed.
“That’s no different from any other summer,” Frankie said.
“But it’s not like Mom would tell us if something was going on,” Nellie said.
Frankie turned to gaze up on the veranda, where her mother sat with Sophie and Sam. Sam and Sophie were talking animatedly, moving their hands wildly, but Ida was staring into the middle distance, her eyes unseeing. When Rick came up and touched her shoulder, she jumped with alarm. She was a million miles away, thinking of anything else but the family that surrounded her.
Life just gets harder and harder, Frankie thought.
Another text came in from Zane.
ZANE: Do you have time tomorrow to hang out? I’d love to see you again.
ZANE: And I have a job for you if you’re ready to make some cash.
Chapter Thirteen
Ida struggled to go a few hours without checking the bank balance for the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers. Any purchase or payment they made—essential ones for the business—felt like a punch to the gut. We have to pay the caterers. We have to pay our staff members. We have to make sure the boats are insured. She reminded herself of this over and over again. But with every dollar that went out, they felt further and further from reaching their goal of staying above water this year. Nightmares plagued her. Maybe we won’t make it. Maybe our dreams will die.
But still, it seemed that every payment was above board. Nothing was made out to Tyson Rogers Advertising.
Ida had sent along information regarding Tyson Rogers Advertising to their lawyer, Susan Sheridan, who’d written back: That’s cagey. I’m going to have my guy look into it.
Ida decided to trust whoever Susan Sheridan’s guy was. She certainly didn’t have a guy to look into anything. She was drowning.
Ida was at the docks late on Monday morning. She greeted several high rollers for an eight-hour cruise that would guide them around the island, feed them lunch and dinner, and keep them well-stocked on cocktails and fine wines. Ida was grateful they’d kept their booking, as a few other high rollers had already canceled, turning their backs on the business after Mrs. Grayson’s accident. News got around fast.
Now, a woman in a powder-blue onesie that seemed quite expensive despite how ugly it was shook Ida’s hand and said, “Grayson was always eager to sue the pants off whoever was around. I’m sorry you got in his line of fire.”
Ida smiled meekly. “We hate what happened to his wife and wish her all the best.”
“I heard she’s home and happy, making all her house staff members miserable,” the woman said with an ironic laugh.
Ida couldn’t say what was really on her mind, that the accident had both saved and ruined them. That without the accident, they would never have known about the theft.
All she could say was, “I hope you have a beautiful day on the water!”
Ida watched the yacht pull off the dock. She raised her hand to wave.
Back in the office, Shelby made a fresh pot of coffee and greeted Ida with a side hug as she filled her a mug. “How are you?” She made heavy eye contact, which meant you better tell me the truth. I know you through and through.
“Exhausted,” Ida said with a sigh. “I haven’t slept in what feels like weeks.”
“Me neither. But hey.” Shelby pulled her fingers through her bob. “Would you like to grab some dinner with me tonight? It feels like ages since the two of us caught up.”
Ida sensed that Shelby wanted not only to repair the business but to repair their best friendship, too. It was akin to a marriage—wherein something devastating had happened within the family and thrown the marriage on the rocks. Now, they had to stabilize their foundation. They had to find a way to laugh again.
Ida and Shelby managed to leave the office by seven that night. They left their cars at the harbor and walked side by side through the stunning streets of a sun-drenched evening in August.
“Hard to believe it’s the twelfth,” Shelby murmured. “Just a few more weeks till Labor Day.”
Ida’s stomach tightened. “I wish we had longer. We have to make up what we’ve lost.” She swallowed. “And there’s no telling what will happen with Mr. Grayson’s lawsuit.”
Shelby exhaled all the air from her lungs. “Let’s try to talk about nice things for a change. There’s nothing we can do about any of that now.”
Ida fixed her face. She remembered when she and Shelby had blown off steam in college. They’d abandoned their textbooks and their fat notebooks filled with facts and thrown themselves into house parties with raucous rock and rollers and plenty of beer. She remembered the stench of the houses and the men smoking cigarettes in the hallways. She remembered kissing Rick in the backyard of one of those parties, feeling so free and alive. Do Frankie and Nellie ever feel half as alive as that? she wondered now.
Shelby suggested they grab a table at a vegetarian restaurant near the Sutton Book Club. Ida agreed, grateful for her friend’s memory. Ida had been slacking on her vegetarianism all summer long, but now she felt eager to dig into a black bean burger and some sweet potato fries. She wanted to drink a chardonnay.
Shelby and Ida sat out front so they could people-watch. They clinked glasses of wine and laughed at each other’s nervous smiles.
“I’m sorry. It just feels so normal,” Ida said. “Last week, I never thought anything would feel normal again.”
“I know what you mean,” Shelby said. “Gosh, you scared me. When you suggested that Malcolm or Rick could have been the ones who…” But then Shelby made a cutting motion under her chin. “I’m sorry. We said we wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Oh, but I’m really sorry about that,” Ida said. “I can’t believe I ever considered Rick could do that. The other day, I watched him sleep, and he looked so sweet. So handsome. And I realized I’ve probably seen him sleep for hundreds of hours of our life together. I’ve had the privilege of knowing him in this really unique and wonderful way.” Ida sipped her wine. “I just hope he doesn’t hate me too much for losing my cool during the summer.”
“Rick could never hate you,” Shelby said. “That man has always been head over heels for you.”
Ida laughed. A shadow passed over Shelby’s face. Ida put her glass of wine down and cupped her knees. Something was up.
“Are you okay?” Ida asked.
Shelby cocked her head. “Yes? I mean, I think I am.”
Ida’s heart pumped. Is she going to tell me that Malcolm was the one who robbed us? Is this why she wants to take me out?
“Is everything okay with Malcolm?” Ida asked.
Shelby rubbed her temples. “You know how marriage is. Highs and lows. Middle grounds. We’re just in a slightly middle-to-low time right now. I don’t know how to fight past it.”
Ida’s shoulders loosened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Only once had Ida seen Shelby and Malcolm having an argument. It was many years ago when Ida had come back to their shared college apartment earlier than she’d planned. Shelby and Malcolm were in Shelby’s bedroom, screaming at one another about something Ida hadn’t been able to decipher. But the rage and ragged edge to their voices had terrified Ida so much that she’d immediately left the apartment and returned to Rick’s place. She’d told Rick, “I think Shelby and Malcolm are breaking up.” But the next time she’d seen Shelby, Shelby hadn’t mentioned the argument. And Ida had decided that people experience romantic relationships in all sorts of ways.
But now, Ida asked, “Is he being cruel?”
Shelby peered at Ida curiously. “We’ve both said cruel things. But isn’t that what marriage is?”
Ida marveled at this. Rick and Ida had so rarely said anything cruel, manipulative, or hard-edged.
“I mean, not all the time,” Shelby hurried to add. “Our marriage isn’t like that all the time. We’ve just gotten pretty creative with our insults lately. That’s all.”
“Do the kids hear you?” Ida asked.
“We try to be careful,” Shelby admitted. “But we’re probably not careful enough.”
Ida had a flashing image of Shelby’s children, Anthony and Stacy, cowering in a room somewhere, turning up their television to blot out Shelby’s and Malcolm’s screams.
Ida was sure the stress with the Nantucket Sunset Cruisers only exacerbated things.
“You should go on vacation this fall,” she suggested. “After things calm down. I can help with the kids. I can even move into your place for a week or two and make sure they get to school on time.”
Shelby’s eyes were saucers. “I would never ask you to do that.”
“We’re partners, Shelby,” Ida reminded her. “But more than that, we’re best friends. I don’t want your marriage to fall apart.”
Suddenly, Shelby’s face transformed. It looked tight and wrinkly, her brow furrowed, her mouth in a strange bow. She was staring at something down the street. She scooched her chair forward and muttered, “Wait. Is that who I think it is?”
Ida followed Shelby’s gaze down past colonial homes, quaint little shops, restaurants, and wine bars to discover Frankie Benson.
Ida’s face broke into a smile. There she was, her eldest daughter, dressed in a beautiful black dress that flowed gently down her thighs. Her hair was pulled into a simple braid, and her makeup was immaculate, clearly a result of one of those makeup tutorials Frankie and Nellie had shown Ida in the past.
“Who is she with?” Ida asked.
Frankie was in animated conversation with a man maybe ten or fifteen years older than her. He had a thick head of curly black hair, thick eyebrows, and massive shoulders, and he watched Frankie speak as though it were the single greatest performance he’d seen in his life. As though he never wanted it to end.
Ida had the strangest and most exhilarating thought. Frankie is falling in love.
“I don’t know,” Shelby said. “Have you seen him before?”
“Never,” Ida said.
Shelby’s brow remained furrowed. She looked captivated by Frankie and the handsome stranger, as though she wanted to turn the image around and make sense of it.
Ida remembered that Shelby’s daughter Stacy was still only thirteen. Shelby had children later than Ida had and therefore hadn’t experienced the horrors and occasional beauty of watching your child date and fall in love.
“Isn’t he a little old for her?” Shelby muttered.
Ida waved her hand. “She’s graduated from college. She’s an adult.”
Shelby gave her an incredulous look. “Isn’t it weird she hasn’t mentioned him at all?”
“Not really,” Ida said. “She spent all of May and June in bed. Depressed? Sick? We still don’t know. But her breakup from Colin did not help things.”
Far down the street, Frankie strung her fingers through the man’s and tilted her head back so that he could kiss her. Their kiss was playful. It was like watching two happily-in-love tourists who’d come to Nantucket to remind themselves of the joy of their relationship.
