Frankie set her muffin down, moved her tablet and stylus out of the way, then took a long sip of water. She picked up the muffin and peeled part of the paper back. “All right. Tell me. What did you and the famous Mitchell Ripley talk about? I’m dying to know. And slightly jealous that you’re friends now.”
Harper snorted. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but we did talk. Mostly about his books and Arlington’s role in the series and Mitch’s late wife. She decorated the house and it’s really beautiful. Serene. Craftsman style, but not over the top. Really livable and cozy.”
“Sounds nice. Did you bring up his books or did he?”
“Wondering how egotistical he is?” Harper took a bite of her muffin.
“Something like that.” Frankie took a bite of hers, too. It was even better than the oatmeal bars. Fruity and warm with the kind of spices that went so well with apple. Cinnamon, clove, nutmeg. There were raisins and walnuts, too. “Wow, this is good.”
Harper nodded, still chewing. She swallowed before she spoke. “That Joyce can bake. And I brought up the books. I didn’t really mean to, but we were on the subject of Arlington and one thing led to another.”
“Was he nice then? And is he as handsome in person as he is in his author photo?”
“You saw him the other day out running.”
“Yes, but he was sweaty and wearing sunglasses.”
Harper laughed. “He’s not bad-looking. And he was mostly nice. More so after we started talking. He’s clearly struggling with some things. Still very much grieving his wife. I get the feeling that grief is making it hard for him to write.”
“I could see that,” Frankie said. “It’s not the same thing, obviously, but when I was going through the divorce, my illustration work suffered. When I was even able to do it. I kept at it, though, and eventually, being creative is what kept me sane. It became an outlet for me. Although, like I said, not initially.”
Harper turned to see her sister better. “So how did you stay creative when you didn’t feel like it?”
Frankie thought a minute. “Sheer determination, I guess. I just didn’t let myself quit. I hated what I was producing. It was dark and angry and nothing like my usual work, but I figured better to get that out than keep it in. After a while, it was out. And I began to create pieces that looked more like what I’d done in happier times.”
“Good for you. A lot of people would have given up.”
“I couldn’t. I had bills to pay and the only way to make extra money was through my art. My little online shop doesn’t get a ton of business, but it does get some. Besides that, putting new product out made me feel like I was doing something positive.”
“I can see that. I’m proud of you, you know.”
Frankie glanced over, surprised. “You are?”
“You bet. You’ve had a couple of rough years, but you got yourself and your kids through it. Without needing therapy.”
“I don’t know. I think we both could have benefited from some of that. Speaking of which…”
Harper sighed. “I know. You want to talk about her again.”
“I’m not trying to rush the conversation, but Shar’s waiting for an answer.”
Harper grabbed her glass, nearly sloshing oat milk over the top. “She’s in no position to demand anything.”
“She isn’t demanding anything. But I do want to meet her, and I’ve said as much. It’s really just me waiting on you now.”
Harper ate more of her muffin before answering. “Does she know about me? That you and I are in contact with each other?”
“She does.”
“Does she know we weren’t adopted together? That we didn’t get to grow up as siblings because of her? That our childhoods were destroyed because of her actions?”
Frankie tried not to react in a negative manner. She didn’t want to get Harper any more riled up than she already was. “I didn’t tell her that, no. I’m sorry you had such a hard time with things. My childhood was pretty good.”
Harper frowned and stared toward the water while she picked off tiny pieces of the muffin and ate them. “My childhood got better after I was adopted, but I always knew about you. Always knew you were missing. But it was because of your parents and their digging that we were able to reunite. My parents tried but that was right around the time my dad passed.”
“That had to be so hard.”
“It was. But I’ll always be grateful to your folks for getting us back together.”
