Lies in White Dresses by Sofia Grant

Author:Sofia Grant [Grant, Sofia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

Francie

Charlie called at three o’clock to say he’d arrived and checked in.

“You’ll come to dinner tonight, won’t you? Arthur is making reservations.” Since Alice had managed to railroad her into dining with Bill, Francie’s only hope was to invite other people so that she could be seated far enough away that conversation would be impossible.

“I think I’ll stay in tonight; it was a long drive. But, Auntie Francie . . .”

“Charlie, you are twenty-seven years old,” Francie said tiredly. “I think it’s time you simply call me Francie.”

“All right. Francie . . . may I speak to you privately? Just the two of us? I’d prefer to do it in person. Before dinner, if it can be arranged.”

“Of course, dear.” Francie had been expecting this, girding herself for it. With Vi gone, and Charlie excluded from the tight bond between Frank and Harry, she would need to serve as a surrogate mother. “Gentleman are only allowed in the parlor here, however. But it’s a fine day to sit outside.”

“Good. I’ll have the car brought around.”

Francie was waiting on the front porch when he arrived twenty minutes later at the wheel of a pickup truck, looking more like a delivery man than the son of a wealthy business owner. He was dressed in work pants and an old shirt, for which he apologized right away.

“I’m sorry, Auntie—er, Francie. I had to return some scaffolding this morning.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Francie said fondly. Because he pitched in with the physical labor on the job sites, Charlie was often mistaken for one of the tradesmen Harry hired, but he didn’t seem to mind. He took after Vi that way, preferring to stay out of the limelight. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Charlie seemed to deliberate a moment before asking, “Did my mother seem different to you, in the last few weeks?”

“Different . . . ?” Francie suspected she knew what Charlie was asking, but she had nothing to offer him. Vi had been distracted, sure, and maybe a little more melancholy than usual, but if there had been clues that she was planning to take her life, Francie had missed them. “Honestly, no—other than changing her mind about the divorce.”

“What do you mean? I thought they just decided to divorce, right before she came here.”

Had he and Frank really not known? “Your father asked for a divorce quite some time ago,” she said gently. “Last fall, right before Thanksgiving. But your mother refused. She . . . felt strongly about divorce, as you may know.”

Charlie’s jaw tightened. “Yes. I do.”

“Your father kept asking for a while, but—well, you know your mother—she could be stubborn about things, and he finally gave up.” At least, that’s what Vi had told her. Francie thought back to Christmas, Vi’s usual frenzy of decorating and baking and shopping. She’d occasionally mentioned Harry’s latest mistress, but it was with exasperation, not despair. Unless . . . was it possible Francie had misread her

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