“My uncle had this little farm in Colorado, and he had a bad case of emphysema. So, after everything happened”—she pausedto give Edie a look—“I hid out with him, took care of him in his last couple of years. For forty years, he grew vegetables for the farmer’s market. When he died, I took it over and invested what I had into upgrading it. I was selling weed before Colorado legalized it, but when the state made it legal for medicinal use, I had a new market. Years later, they legalized it for recreational use, and when that happened, I had so much business I couldn’t keep up. That’s when Mama came to live with me. She’s still a pretty good bookkeeper. Left me free to learn about mushrooms.”
“Wish I’d known,” Irene said. “I went to Los Angeles and hid in Koreatown, because one thing that never changes about white people is that they think we all look alike. I stayed out there for a few years and ran a yoga class sometimes, bartended other times. Mostly, I learned how to hack into systems.”
“I still can’t believe you steal from old people,” Frances said.
“Instead of rich people? Is that really better? What did you do, Fran?”
“At first, I bummed around Europe. Aimless. Hopeless. Missing you guys and not knowing what to do with myself. And then … I went to see my last stepmother. Freya.”
There was a collective gasp from the rest of the car riders.
“Why? Did you lose your fucking mind or something?” Irene asked. “Nils would have had you arrested and thrown into some castle dungeon in a heartbeat.”
“I know.” Frances laughed. “It wassocrazy. But I got lucky—Nils happened to be in Prague, terrorizing other people. And, you know, Freya was always nice to me when Nils wasn’t around. I think she was happy to see me. She asked me how life was going, and I told her it sucked, and that thanks to her and Nils, after after Dad died, I’d been left to figure everything out on my own. She said that probably made me a strong person. Then she said she hoped I intended to finish college, that my father always wished that for me.”
She could picture Freya now, sitting in that beautiful sunlitroom with the blue-and-white curtains and the wood floors, so casually receiving Frances’s news. She was thin and dressed in couture, while Frances was in the same clothes she’d been wearing for days. She had nowhere to go, no family to call. Seeing Freya that afternoon, she’d hated her. She’d imagined killing her. Just putting her hands on her neck and squeezing until her eyes bulged out. Fortunately, while Frances was many things, she was not a killer. “So I did,” she said.
“You did what?” Edie asked.
“I cut my hair, bought some cheap reading glasses, came back home, and went back to school. In a little tiny college in Vermont where I figured no one would ever find me. No one ever did. And then, I was a teacher.”
“No way!” Edie exclaimed.
“I know, right? I wasn’t the teacher sort, but I ended up teaching art history at a private school. Not because I had any talent or knew that much about art, other than what it would sell for, but because that school needed a body.”
“Wow,” Joan said. “That’s poetic—the art thief teaches art.”
Frances grinned. “Anyway, that’s where I met my Nick.”
“Teaching art history?” Edie asked.
“No, during a field trip to New York. I took the senior class to the Met. That night, after the kids were in lockdown, I went to the hotel lobby for a glass of wine and there he was, an oil guy from Houston.”
He’d been sitting at the bar, so handsome, his blue eyes shining. He didn’t give off a creepy vibe and didn’t leer at her. He just started up a conversation and he was so nice and appeared to be interested in her. In a strictly platonic way, at first. That had been a new experience for Frances. “We had a really good life,” she said wistfully.
“I guess I did, too,” Joan agreed, sighing. “Farming is not bad, really. Pretty damn cold in the winter, but summers are great. My love life suffered, though. It’s hard to carry on a torrid lesbianaffair when you’re Black in Colorado and living in some remote mountain area.”
“Well, my life sucked,” Irene said. “Thanks, Edie.”
“Oh my God,” Edie muttered.
“But Florida has been okay,” Irene continued. “Lots of Koreans around, and the elderly are easy to scam. They will give you a credit card or a check just for smiling at them. So gullible.”
“Stop talking,” Frances said.
“Okay, well, I didn’t get so lucky to find a man like you, and not have to steal for a living, Fran.”
“I also had a degree and a job, which was also available to you.”
“She has a point,” Edie said wistfully. “I wish I would have gone back to finish college. But … Simon came along.”
“Great catch,” Irene said dryly.
“If we’re through judging each other, I need a bathroom break,” Joan announced.
“Again?” Frances complained. “It was only forty-five minutes ago.”
“Yes, again, Franny, not that I need to justify my bladder to you.”
