Harper stopped what she was doing to touch Frankie’s arm. “I couldn’t be mad at you for what happened. For one thing, you were doing what you thought was best. For you and your kids. For another, if I was going to be mad at anyone, it would be her.”
Frankie nodded in agreement, the hurt caused by their birth mother keeping them a secret rising up in her again. “I can’t believe we have siblings that know nothing about us. She hid us from them. Like some awful secret.”
“I can believe it. Shar didn’t want to have to explain what she’d done. To her, it was an awful secret.”
“I know, but still. I just don’t get it.” Frankie worked on cutting nice straight lines and even cubes. It was silly, because no one was going to see it but them, but someday she’d probably cook for Lucas, and she wanted him to be impressed.
“Are you going to tell Jason and Willa?”
“I’ve already told Willa. We had a big talk about it when you were at Mitch’s. And I’ll tell Jason soon. I’m not sure he’s going to care.”
“But Willa did?”
Frankie hadn’t said anything to Harper about this yet. “She was excited by the possibility of having another grandmother.”
“Poor kid.”
“It wasn’t just my cancer scare that got me interested in finding Shar.” Frankie sliced through the cucumber sticks she’d made, leaving them in small cubes. “Willa’s been on a genealogy kick lately. I don’t know how she finds the time with all of her studies, but I felt like I owed it to her to tell her the truth.”
“I can understand that.” Harper rinsed the chickpeas, drained them well, then emptied them into a big glass salad bowl.
Frankie finished the last of her dicing. “Should I add the cucumber now or wait?”
“No, dump it in.”
Frankie used the edge of the knife to clean the cutting board off into the bowl. “What else?”
Harper ticked things off on her fingers. “Those cherry tomatoes need to be quartered. The parsley needs to be finely chopped. I have to make the dressing. Then the crumbled feta gets added. And the chicken breasts need to be grilled and sliced.”
Frankie grabbed the pint of tomatoes. “I’ll do these next then the parsley.”
“Thanks.”
A little barking and the sound of the door announced Willa and Archie had returned from their walk. “We’re back,” Willa called out.
They came up the steps together. Willa had her phone in her hand and was looking at the screen. “I think Archie wants a treat. He did everything, if you know what I mean, so I think he earned it.”
“Give him something from the basket,” Harper said. “Thanks for taking him out.”
Willa got Archie a cookie from the Barkery basket. “Here you go, Archie baby. He’s the best boy.”
Then, looking at her phone again, she took a seat at the counter. “I don’t mind taking him out. He’s the sweetest thing. I love him. He’s the best dog ever. I wish I could have a dog. Someday.”
Harper smiled. “He’s great company.”
Frankie tossed the first batch of tomatoes into the bowl and glanced at her daughter. Her face was lit from the glow of her phone. “What’s got you so interested? Please tell me there’s not more online about your aunt.”
“No, nothing like that. Just doing a little research,” Willa answered distractedly. She looked up. “What’s for dinner?”
Harper answered. “Mediterranean chickpea salad with grilled chicken and lemon dressing.”
“That sounds good,” Willa said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Set the table,” Frankie answered. “But wash your hands first. You were just picking up poop. I assume.”
Willa rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yes, Mom.”
She set her phone down and went to the sink to clean up, then got plates and silverware out.
