Page 50 of Go Find Less
Frannie’s head bobs back, making a face, and Freddy, ever the mature one, shudders. “At the stadium?” he asks.
“No, at the hospital.”
Frannie blinks at me. I rub my temples again, thinking about walking in on Piper in a panic. Maybe I do need a nap.
“You went to the hospital?” I look up at her, my face passive, still dipped to rub at my temples.
“Shit, dude.”
“Yeah,” is all I can come up with in response to my brother.
“She ok?” he presses. I shrug, and then lean back in my chair, letting my head fall back.
I weigh my next words - they might be assholes, but they’re assholes that know more about me than anyone else in my life, have seen more than anyone else in my life.
“She’s been through a lot,” I start.
“Her husband died,” Frannie says to Freddy, and I peer at her over my nose. She at least has the decency to flush.
“I think being in the hospital was triggering for her, or something.”
“No, shit,” Freddy snorts, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and we both look at him. “What? I’m getting a psychology degree, fuckwads. I may look dumb but I know what trauma is.”
He’s not dumb - we both know that. If our father had his way, Freddy would have gone down the same business-degree path as Frannie and I. But he didn’t show any particular talents for any of the areas WHG touched on, and when he’d earned a full ride to LSSU to study psych instead of UT’s McCombs Business School, like me, it took Dad a full year to get on the bandwagon.
“She’s got it in spades,” Frannie says warily, and a part of me regrets not talking to her sooner. I didn’t think about the fact that Frannie was a Sophomore when I was a senior - she may have even known Piper at one point.
Both of them look at me, then, and I can see their eyes scanning me, like they always do when they’re trying to get a good read on where my head is at.
I’ve always been in a different place than them mentally. Part of it, I think, is because I’m their half brother - our several years of separation was due to the fact that our father remarried after my mother’s death. And while Paula, their biological mother, has been in my life basically from day one, there’s a piece of my brain that never really settled into this perfect happy family frame that Dad so desperately wanted.
We all have the same fiery hair, eyes only a few shades different, but that’s where the similarities stop. I’ve got my mother’s coloring, tan and freckled, and tower over both of them. They look like twins sometimes, with their pale complexions and shorter frames that are more athletic, like Paula.
Paula is a good woman. The only mother I’ve ever known. But that piece that never fell into place is the same piece that questioned the situation Piper was in with Mickey and his supposed child.
Freddy and Frannie have always been filled with something I envied - warmth. It was like whatever combination my parents created when they had me was the wrong recipe, and just one tweak - Paula - made all the difference. Where most people couldn’t tell what was going on in my head until I spelled it out, both of their emotions were either on their sleeves, or their faces. Both utterly unable to hide any moniker of emotions they felt.
“So how was last night?” Freddy asks slyly after a long pause, and I reach out to shove him.
“What happened last night?” The three of us turn toward the voice behind us, and in the doorway stands the Armani-clad, stone-faced Chris Westfall - our father.
“I was working on some budget report charts,” I answer coolly.
The literal last thing I need is either of my siblings blabbing Piper’s name for him to hear.
“Late, clearly,” he remarks, gesturing to my face. Fuck, obviously I underestimated how rough I looked this morning when I left Piper’s. “I came to see if you were going to the Women in Business luncheon tomorrow, Francesca, or if I needed to send someone else so you can focus on outstanding items.”
“I’m sending Courtney for me,” Frannie says, answering Dad’s measured tone with a similar one of her own. “Greta has a parent lunch tomorrow and Jason can’t make it.”
I think all three Westfall men scowl at the sound of Jason’s name - Frannie’s fuckwad of an ex husband who was sleeping with not one, but three other women when their relationship fell apart, just a few months after my niece was born.
“Alright. Send her my love.” The words are tender, but his eyes don’t look it, as he turns to me. “I’m meeting Ethan and a few others for a round this afternoon, can you make sure nothing goes upside down while I’m gone?” Well, there goes my secret plan to sneak home and try to catch up on the sleep I haven’t been getting.
“If this place can’t operate without you when you’re off golfing, I don’t know how it’s as successful as it is.” Freddy’s comment is meant more light-hearted than it comes across, I can tell, but Dad purses his lips anyways. “I’m sure Will has this covered.”
Dad looks between the two of us, probably debating whether it’s worth it or not to make any additional commentary, before deciding against it and giving a curt nod.
“Okay,” he says, and then fixes me with a stare. “Let me know if you need anything.” He turns and walks out of the room, and I see Frannie’s shoulders visibly relax.
