The father turned angry eyes toward Gabe. “Shouldn’t the police have been dealing with such a cult?”
Gabe gave him a sympathetic look. “Although the cult has been a problem, they’re outside of my town limits and quite good at not being caught breaking the law. The ones who burned her cabin were hired through a third party. However, last week, that all changed.”
“What happened last week?” Anja’s sharp blue eyes were bright with curiosity.
“The women in the cult got free, and the fanatics fled the area.” Gabe went on to explain more, including that Kit was in the hospital in Anchorage.
The sisters were wide-eyed, the mother obviously unhappy. “Francesca, this was most irresponsible of you. What were you thinking?”
Frankie stiffened. “That Kit needed help.”
“And helping is what friends do,” JJ said. “Your Frankie is a daughter to be proud of.”
Sigrid’s mouth pursed like she’d been sucking on a lemon. “Her name is Francesca. Why do you all persist in calling her Frankie?”
Perfect, the mom was getting irritated. That was what Caz had told them to strive for.
Time to toss the first grenade. “Our father was a traditionalist who taught us to address people by the name they prefer to use. It’s a form of respect.” Bull said politely. “And your daughter is very worthy of respect.”
The muscles in Sigrid’s face and neck tightened, exposing the fine white lines of a facelift.
Giorgio eyed Bull. “It is difficult for a family who called a child by one name to change to another.”
“True enough,” Caz said with his white smile. “It does take thought. However, since Frankie has a generous heart, I’m certain she would overlook a few mistakes.”
Slight color rose in…damn, everyone’s faces. No one called her by the name she preferred? Anger roused inside Bull.
Did they think her wishes weren’t worth considering because she was the baby of the family? Or was it because she wasn’t blonde and classically beautiful?
But this skirmish had been won. Bull sat back. A battle, like a river, would surge strongly, then slow into eddies while combatants recovered. This was often when unwary opponents let their guard down.
So, with a sweet smile, JJ asked the two siblings about how they’d developed such unique catwalk styles. Birgit and Anja jumped into the discussion. Despite sounding good-natured, their bickering held the edge of performers in competition with each other.
No wonder Frankie had superb negotiation and peacemaking skills.
Living in a world of prima donnas must chafe at her soul. Bull ran his hand over Frankie’s shoulder in a caress that was as much for her as it was for him.
She was so much better a fit with his family…and she knew it.
The trick would be making her parents and siblings see it, too.
* * *
When she felt Bull’s hand on her shoulder, Frankie started to lean into him, as she did so naturally now. He enjoyed being her support and protector, almost as much as she liked giving him the open affection he needed…even if he didn’t admit it to her.
Just like he hadn’t mentioned that he’d be here tonight. Despite the unsettled feeling in her stomach, she had to admire his facility with verbal warfare. And from the light in his gaze, that was what he was conducting.
With an effort, she focused on the conversation at the table, then realized Papà was studying her.
“Despite the strain of freeing Kit, you’re particularly lovely today.” Her father rubbed a finger over his chin. “I should do a series of photographs, perhaps with a theme of—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I haven’t changed my mind about how I feel about photographs of me hanging on a wall. Sorry, Papà.”
“Her beauty isn’t skin deep; it goes right to her heart and soul,” Bull rumbled. “Even your photographs, Giorgio, can’t capture that essence.”
Cazzo, she loved him, and she knew she was probably blushing.
Then he added, “Undoubtedly, her happiness at being here in Alaska—and with me—adds a glow.”
She had to suppress a laugh. Such conceit.
Birgit sniffed. “Or maybe she’s glowing because she finally got laid.”
Ouch. Frankie winced, and Bull stiffened.
“You know, I once thought I wanted a sister.” JJ gave Birgit her pissed-off cop stare. “I guess I got lucky being a single child.”
Birgit flushed a bright red. “I didn’t—” Her gaze dropped. “I did say that, and it was really petty.”
She looked at Frankie. “I’m sorry, Francesca. I can’t find a man I want to see for longer than a date or two, and you have”—she gestured toward Bull—“and he’s so into you.”
Birgit’s mouth often ran ahead of her brain. It was why she caused so many problems at work. Understanding melted Frankie’s anger because… Anyone would envy me having Bull. “It’s okay. I—”
“Shit, I called you Francesca, and you’ve asked us over and over to call you Frankie.” Birgit scowled. “When my BFF thought it was cute to call me Bibi, I slapped her to make her stop. Why do we do it to you?”
“Because Mama said we had to since it’s her given name.” Anja frowned at Mama. “When I was oh, maybe twelve, and my friends called their mothers, mom, and I wanted to call you that, you said absolutely not. You even sent me to my room when I kept trying.”
That’d been quite the week. Papà had called it the battle of the frost giants.
Mama’s blue eyes held anger. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Sat back and stared at nothing. Then she turned to Frankie. “They’re correct. I’m sorry. Frankie. One’s name is a personal choice.”
Cribbio, Bull had accomplished in one night what she’d not managed in years. “Thanks, Mama.”
“So, if Kit’s out of the cult, you’ve achieved your goal. I’m glad you’re coming back to work.” Anja had obviously blown off everything Frankie had said at the B&B about being in love and planning to stay in Alaska.
“Oh, me, too.” Birgit tossed her hair back with a flirtatious look at Bull before telling Frankie, “The makeup people keep messing up my eyeliner before a shoot. And my agent is being a total asshole. You need to talk to him and—”
“Is that what you do all day?” Bull gave Frankie’s hair a light tug. “Deal with quarrels?”
She sighed, because it sounded awful, didn’t it? “That’s the job description, yes. I’m essentially a diplomat in a war zone filled with models and advertising people.”
“Chiquita.” Caz’s voice was smooth and concerned. “You love being with people, I know that. I’ve seen how much you enjoy managing the roadhouse and making the customers and staff happy. You have a sweet, good-natured personality. Enduring hours of angry, frustrated people must feel like you were tossed into a blackberry bush. Do you truly like doing that?”
Papà frowned…and Mama acted as if she was the one tossed into a blackberry bush.
Feeling as if she’d let them down and hurt their feelings, Frankie stared at the table. What Caz said was the truth, but it wasn’t what they needed or wanted to hear.
Bull lifted their clasped hands, resting them on the table. “Sweetheart?”
Why could she deal with everyone else in the world, but not her family? She hadn’t changed her mind, still wanted to stay, but her family had decided different. And was making their claim on her clear.
Did she want to start this fight here, in the restaurant? “Bull, it’s not…”
His black eyes captured hers. “So, when we have children, you’re going to tell them they must work at Bocelli’s, whether they want to or not. Even if it makes them unhappy.”
“Of course not.” Her answer came a second before her brain told her that she’d just opened the can of worms she wanted to handle in private.
“I fear you don’t understand,” Mama said, her voice frozen.
“Ah, the ice queen,” Frankie heard Caz say under his breath.
“We su
pported our daughter in college with the understanding she’d return to work for the company.”
Actually, that’d never been stated. Just understood.
“Ah, many of my friends in the medical professions have done the same as Frankie—accepted help, then worked in a less…pleasant…work environment for a couple of years.” Caz smiled at Frankie. “Is your two years not up yet, chica?”
If she wasn’t totally in love with Bull—and if JJ wasn’t usually carrying a gun—Frankie would kiss the doc right on the mouth.
“I’m not sure when I should start counting.” She tapped her fingers on her lips. “Should it be at twelve when I started helping after school. Or when I worked there every weekend in college? Or just the four years I’ve worked there after I got my MBA?”
There was silence around the table.
And, okay, she was done with this. “However, if you think I still owe you, then send me a bill, and I’ll pay you back. We’ll pretend it was a loan.”
“Wait—does that mean I’d have to pay you back for the money you’ve given me?” Birgit asked, appalled.
“No. No, you do not. None of you do.” Her father rubbed his face. “This is a night for uncomfortable insights, is it not?”
“Uncomfortable?” Anja said. “You mean hearing that we’ve all been shitting on F—on Frankie. Because we can.”
“Anja! Language,” Mama snapped.
“The word bothers you, but making your daughter eat it doesn’t?” Anja gave Mama a hard look. “Mama, I know you love her as much as you do me and Birgit, but you treat her differently. Probably because she doesn’t want to be a model. She’s put up with being treated like a…a servant because, like Papà’s side of the family, she’s a lot nicer than your side.”
The air left Frankie’s lungs. That was way too much honesty for Mama. She opened her mouth to say…something.
“Shhh,” Bull cautioned under his breath.
Mama’s eyes filled with tears. “Francesca. Frankie. I…no. I don’t mean to…”
Cavolo, Mama was going to cry, and she never cried. Aghast, Frankie started to rise. “Mama—”
“My dear, I’m so glad you’re here,” Regina, the municipal building receptionist called as she and her husband walked into the restaurant. “Thank you so much for the other night. You made our anniversary incredibly special. One we’ll never forget.”
After giving Frankie a warm hug, Regina joined her beaming husband, and they headed into the bar.
“Frankie’s here?” From a nearby table, Tina, Chevy’s wife, half rose. “Girl, don’t forget we’re reading The Handmaid’s Tale this week.”
Small towns. Frankie stole a glance at her mother who was regaining her composure. Okay, then.
Rising, Frankie called back. “I’m halfway done, Tina. It’s a great book.” When she sat back down, she felt more centered. As Bull took her hand again, she smiled at her mother. “Mama. It’s all right.”
“No. No, it’s not.” Eyes now dry, Mama set her jaw. “I need to think about this, but you are not less. Different, yes. Not less. And never a servant. Not my daughter.” Her fingers were tapping on the table.
Her gaze came to Bull and where he held Frankie’s hand. A very blatant possessive hold, Frankie realized.
Before she could move, Lillian swooped down. “Love, I’d hoped to run into you tonight. Don’t forget poker night is next week. Also, for the Harry Potter reading, could you bring yourself to wear black robes?”
“Hey, wait, is this reading for the library? My library?” Audrey asked, frowning.
“But, certainly, my child. Frankie and I intend to add some stage props,” Lillian said. Dante stepped up behind her.
Frankie eyed the petite woman. It was very unlike the British actress to bust into a dinner party like this.
Lillian cast a gracious smile over the table. “Please excuse the interruption. Frankie and I have been reading to the elementary children and showing them how literature gets turned into theater.”
Dante laughed. “Lillian went and left the Broadway stage, but acting is in her blood.”
“Lillian Gainsborough?” Papà’s eyes widened. “I saw you in Macbeth. No one has played the Lady better, before or since.”
Beaming, Lillian gave a slight bow. “Thank you, my good sir.”
Frankie suppressed a smile at her sisters’ wide eyes.
“Now, Frankie.” Lillian patted her shoulder. “I have robes for you. Come over early, and we’ll get dressed. We’ll have ever so much fun.”
“I’ll be there.” But…they’d discussed robes and times yesterday. There was no way Lillian had forgotten.
Cazzo, Bull had drafted more than just his family for this meeting with her family. Felix, Regina, Tina, Lillian…? Ohhh, this was such a set up.
Lillian smiled at Frankie’s family. “It’s lovely that you came to visit her. I know she’s missed you all.”
As Lillian and Dante moved away, Anja snorted. “Missed us? When would you have had time?”
Birgit sniffed. “She doesn’t put in hours at the gym like we do. This place probably doesn’t even have a gym.”
“We have a home gym,” Gabe said mildly. “I’ve noticed Bull and Frankie seem to prefer jogging and sparring in our park.”
Bull shrugged. “There’s nothing like running beside the lake at sunrise.”
“Oh.” Anja sighed. “That does sound nice.”
“By the way, Frankie, can you give me some lessons with that staff of yours? Some of your blocks and strikes would work great with the police baton,” JJ said.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
Papà didn’t seem upset, but Birgit and Mama were frowning. Because none of Frankie’s plans included returning to New York.
“Only, you’ll have to tell Gryff not to bite me—that we’re friends, right?” JJ added with a smile.
“Bite you?” Birgit stared. “What?”
“Our dog,” Bull said. “He’s ninety pounds of fur that tries to crawl into Frankie’s lap every chance he gets—and will guard her with his life.”
Mama looked appalled, then her eyes softened. “You’ve always wanted a dog.”
“One like Nonna’s,” Papà said. “Back when you’d help her in her gardens.”
“We have a huge garden.” Audrey smiled at Papà. “Frankie was singing as she harvested baby salad greens.”
Frankie smiled at the memory. She’d been singing “Yesterday”, the old Beatles’ tune when everyone had joined in to create a lovely four-part harmony.
“You’re part of his family—and this town, aren’t you?” Anja said, and Frankie could hear a note of envy. “It suits you, too. No wonder you’re so happy here.”
“Now,” Frankie heard Caz whisper to JJ, “now, they finally see her clearly.”
Birgit pursed her lips. “You actually found a guy who has no intention of being part of Bocelli’s.”
Mama made an appalled sound, then sighed. A sigh of acceptance.
Bull only laughed. “I like to think that I found her, and I’m doing my best to convince her to stay here.” His voice dropped, and he cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze to his dark eyes. “Ms. Bocelli, I’ll follow you to New York if I have to, but I’m pretty convinced you’d be happier here in Alaska.”
He’d move to New York to be with her? She stared at him, seeing the firm line of his mouth, the set of his jaw. The honesty.
He’d go with her, even though he belonged here in Alaska.
She belonged here, too. This was her place.
Eyes filling with tears, she saw Gabe starting to smile, Audrey beaming. Caz nodded at her, and JJ grinned because they knew her decision without her speaking.
Because they knew her. They saw her.
They were her family.
And Bull was her man. She looked up at him, into eyes the color of the darkest sky. “I love you. And I belong here.”
“Yeah, you do.” He leaned down, forehead against hers, and whispe
red. “Here, with me.”
Epilogue
Where thou art, that is home. ~ Emily Dickinson
* * *
In the kitchen at the roadhouse, Frankie sucked down a glass of soda. Caffeinated soda, because she totally needed it. What a day.
This morning, Kit had moved into the rehab hospital. Progress. Frankie had taken in clothing and books and anything she could think of that her friend might need. Kit had been exhausted and in pain, but the stubborn woman refused to take pain meds unless she was in agony.
Somehow, Hawk had anticipated the problem and said he’d take Aric to visit tomorrow when Kit wouldn’t be stressed.
Poor Aric. He was still whispering and hiding whenever he made any noise. Or anytime there was the least upset—like when Bull had dropped a pot, it’d taken an hour to find Aric, who’d holed up under a bed.
Hawk planned to take him out more often. In fact, the two planned to pop into the roadhouse tonight and take a dessert back to the Hermitage. She’d watch for them so Aric would have someone he knew.
Her soda finished, Frankie set the glass down, then checked her hair. Her old-fashioned braid-coronet was more suited to a date night than work, but her Hermitage girl-gang had wanted to learn the style Nonna had taught her. Regan was going to a birthday party and sleep-over at her bestie’s house. JJ and Audrey had dates planned with their men. So, they’d had a girls’ hour before Frankie came to work.
Frankie smiled. Regan was such an appealing mixture of intelligent and innocent and sturdily practical. Audrey was brilliant and sweet. JJ was the voice of reason and the one who balanced them all out.
They were becoming good friends.
On her way to work, Frankie had dashed off to Bull’s house—her house, too—while answering a call from Birgit.
It was the first time she’d heard from her sister since her family returned to New York. Honestly, that night at the restaurant, they’d been almost as shell-shocked as the PZs were after Mako’s sons dealt with them. Yet, at the airport, they seemed pleased she’d found Bull and was happy.
She cried when she sent them off.
Today, though, Birgit whined that Frankie’s replacement wasn’t good enough and never would be. So, Frankie said since the replacement wasn’t up to the job, someone in the family should take over. Since Birgit was the youngest…
What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 34
