“Is it?”
“I was very close with your mother. I miss her.”
“But she didn’t tell you about me, right?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Franny looked out the greasy window. Some version of “White Christmas” was playing on the sound system. I shuddered at the thought of Christmas morning with the kids without Tom.
“I don’t need your help,” Franny said. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life, you know?”
“I don’t know. But I’d like to.”
“Really?”
“Why is that such a surprise?”
“I haven’t had much luck with people. Friends.”
I covered her hand with mine. It was surprisingly soft. “I’d like to help change that, if you’ll let me.”
“How can you change it?”
“What if we gave ourselves a fresh start? I’m sure we both could use it.”
A corner of her mouth lifted. “That sounds good.”
I reached out my hand. “I’m Cecily, and I’m so happy to meet you.”
Franny shook, firmer this time than she’d been at the funeral. “Nice to meet you, Cecily. I’m Franny Maycombe.”
• • •
When I arrive at Joshua’s house, Emily opens the door in tears.
“Daddy’s marrying Franny! I don’t want a new mommy!”
“What? I . . .”
I reach for her, but she turns on her heel and runs into the house. She’s up the stairs before I can even get a word out. Julia barrels into my legs. One of her braids is coming undone.
“Aunt Cecily, it’s horrible.”
I drop down so we’re at the same level. “What’s horrible? Where’s your father?”
“Upstairs. And Franny. Franny is horrible.”
I feel the same sense of shock I felt the day I got Tom’s texts, as if I’d stopped experiencing reality and stepped into some kind of altered state. Franny and Joshua? It can’t be true.
“What did Franny do, honey?”
Julia wipes at her nose. “She made Daddy love her. But Daddy’s only supposed to love Mommy. Even if she’s gone. That’s what he said. He said he would always love Mommy.”
“Of course he’ll always love Mommy. But sometimes, grown-ups love more than one person and . . .”
I stop myself. What am I saying? This isn’t my situation to explain. I don’t even know what’s going on.
“Where’s Franny?”
“She left.”
“Why?”
“She and Daddy had a fight.”
I feel light-headed. Where is Joshua?
I take Julia’s hand and lead her into the living room. I pull her onto my lap, missing, for a moment, those days when I could do that with Henry or Cassie.
“Can you tell me the story from the beginning? As much as you remember.”
Julia plops her thumb into her mouth but speaks anyway. “Last night, Daddy and Franny said that Daddy loved Franny and they were getting married.”
“Are you sure?”
She just looks at me, slow tears running down her cheeks.
“Okay,” I say. “And then what happened?”
“Em was mad. Real mad.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t see that coming.”
I want to laugh. Julia’s always said the damnedest things, a sponge who absorbs all the language around her and spits it out at the oddest moments.
“Me, neither, honey. But when did Franny leave?”
“That happened today.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “Daddy was saying maybe it was a mistake.”
“Getting married?”
“Because of Em. Because she was so sad.”
“And Franny was angry?”
“Yes, but also sad. I wouldn’t like it if someone said he was going to marry me and then said nuh-uh, not going to happen.”
Who had this child been listening to? “What happened next?”
She leans her head back. “They told us to go back to bed.”
“Wait, were you spying on them?”
She pulled her thumb out. “We snuck out of bed, but then they noticed us.”
“That was naughty.”
“That’s what Franny said.”
My stomach tightens. “Did she?”
“Yes, but then Em started crying again, and she said she was sorry, and we were all crying together, even Daddy. Em said she was sorry and that she would get used to it. She wants Daddy to be happy.”
“What happened next?”
“We went to bed, but this morning, Daddy was making breakfast, and then Franny showed him some papers, and he got so mad. I was scared.”
I hug her to me. “I’m sorry, darling. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.”
“It’s okay.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Let me go find Daddy, all right? You stay here?”
“Can I play in the basement?”
“Of course you can.”
I watch her scuttle off. I take out my phone and make a call.
“This is Franny, leave a message.”
“Franny, I’m at Joshua’s house. Where are you; what’s going on?”
I end the call and text her.
Where are you?
I watch the screen, waiting for a bubble to form, to show me that she’s writing back. I see it after a moment. Then it disappears. Reappears. Appears again. Then, finally, a text.
Have you spoken to Joshua? Franny writes.
Not yet.
Tell him I’m sorry, okay?
Sorry for what? I’m going to call you.
I don’t want to talk right now. Just talk to Joshua. He’ll explain everything.
Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?
The bubble appears again, leaves, appears. But no text comes.
Franny?
I wait and wait, but there’s nothing.
I tuck my phone away and walk up the stairs. I can hear Emily crying in her room. I should go to her, but I need to find Joshua, I need to understand what’s going on. How could he be marrying Franny? She’s so different from Kaitlyn, and her daughter, and too young, and what could they possibly have in common?
I stop at the top of the stairs. I feel winded, panic gripping at my chest.
I lean against the wall. It’s been years since I’ve been upstairs in this house, but not much has changed. The same pictures, the same hamper full of children’s clothes at the end of the hall. One of the bedrooms was an office, but I assume it’s where Franny’s been staying since she moved in. Or is she sleeping with Joshua now? How did I let that slip by without noticing? Not that it was my job to monitor this house, this family, but yet, it kind of is. It was.
“Joshua?”
“In here.”
I open the door to his bedroom. The blinds are drawn, the bed in disarray.
