“I don’t know,” Frankie said. She sighed and leaned back on the counter next to where Harper was cooking. “You know how you felt at lunch? Overwhelmed and in need of some time to process everything?”
“Yes.”
“That’s how I feel now.” She opened a cabinet and took glasses down.
“I not only understand that, I respect it.” Harper really did understand. She imagined that Frankie had had some blue-sky idea about how meeting their biological mother was going to go. And then that hadn’t happened. The letdown had to be immense. “This should take time. This is a big deal. It should take as much time as you need it to.”
“Thanks,” Frankie said. “I’m trying not to let it overwhelm me, but my head is a little messed up.” One hand on the wine bottle, she stared out into the distance. At the water beyond the house maybe. Suddenly, her expression lightened, and she glanced at Harper before filling the glasses in front of her with wine. “Of course, it’s not as big of a deal as you and Mitch going on a date.”
Willa’s gasp practically echoed through the house. “You didn’t tell me you were going on a date with him.”
Harper pulled the chicken out of the grill pan and put it on a plate to rest before she sliced it. “I’m not going on a date with him. Your mother is referring to the invite weallgot to go out on his boat with him.”
“I was,” Frankie said as she set a glass of white wine next to Harper.
“Oh.” Willa seemed disappointed. “But, you know, maybe that’s sort of a practice date. To see how he feels about doing something like that with just the two of you.”
“I don’t think so,” Harper answered. She started slicing the chicken into nice, thin pieces to top the chickpea salad with. “I’m not going to disclose any details, because it’s none of your business, but the man is very much still mourning his wife. I know you both want to think something more is happening, but it’s not.”
“It’s still nice of him to offer,” Frankie said. She sipped her wine. “Going out on the boat will be fun. What can I take to the table?”
“Add the dressing to the salad, give it a stir, and then it can go. I’ll be right behind you with the chicken as soon as I finish slicing it.”
Frankie dumped the dressing in and mixed it in before picking up the big bowl. “Smells good. Nice and lemony. To the table I go.”
She carried the bowl over, then came back for her wine. “Am I supposed to invite Lucas? Seems like Mitch should be the one doing that. It’s his boat.”
Harper nodded. “I think that should be Mitch’s job to do. It’ll be a fun day.”
Frankie nodded and smiled, but there were stress lines around her eyes. She obviously wasn’t over what had happened today. They’d met their birth mother for the first time since she’d given them up for adoption at ages six and three.
They could use an afternoon of fun and relaxation.
They ate dinner, during which they mostly talked about Mitch and Lucas, then they cleaned up and settled in to watch television. Harper took Archie out for one last pee before bed, then said goodnight and went into the bedroom to read for a bit. It had been a long, complicated day and she was filled with all kinds of emotions.
Her tablet and the book on it rested on her lap, ignored. Did she really want to meet her birth father?
She actually did. Something about having met Sharlene, and how that meeting had gone, made her feel like meeting their birth father was only fair.
Maybe part of it was because it seemed to her that Shar really didn’t want them to meet him.
Why? Was Shar just angry about the past? Had he done something? Was he really a bad guy? Sure, he’d been involved in the bank robbery, but he’d done his time. Hadn’t he? And, really, how bad of a guy could he be at nearly eighty?
She wished she’d looked at the photo Willa had found. Harper could do a search herself, of course, but she was tired. The day had already been a lot to handle.
She got out of bed to brush her teeth. Archie was already curled up in his bed, his stuffed bear, Mr. Brown, tucked underhis chin. Archie was a pretty adorable creature, but cuddled up with Mr. Brown brought the adorable to a whole new level.
She took a few pictures of him, adding to the thousands currently filling her phone’s memory.
She plugged her phone in to charge, then got back into bed. She shut down her tablet. She couldn’t concentrate on a book. Her mind was on her parents. Her biological ones. Not her adopted ones. Thinking about them brought her adoptive mother, Annie, to mind.
Her mother was in the final stages of dementia, getting the best care Harper could afford at a facility in Nevada. Annie was eighty-eight years old and hadn’t recognized Harper in a long while.
Seeing her mother that way broke Harper’s heart. Annie had been everything to her. She’d put up with the broken child she’d adopted, loving Harper through the meltdowns and tantrums and acting out.
Thankfully, Harper had come around pretty quickly, understanding that her adoptive parents were kind, caring people and that they were doing their best. Which had been pretty great.
Now, as she looked back at her life, she had an even greater appreciation for them and all they’d done for her. The sacrifices they’d made. The patience they’d shown. The unconditional love they’d given her.
