Page 4 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“Are we done with that joke?” Frankie asked me while half turning in her seat so she could meet my gaze. “I know you’re mocking me and I don’t appreciate it, soccer boy.”

“Football,” I corrected her.

“Only because you were the kicker thanks to your soccer skills, tough guy.”

She had me there. For the second time, all I could manage was a nod.

“The internet, sorry. I’ve been trying to find a connection to link me to you for a while.” She gave a halfhearted explanation for her information gathering.

“I’m thinking you couldn’t find one, so you went with harassment instead?”

I’d give it to the pint-sized blond. She didn’t back down, only shined a slow smile on me, and said, “It was necessary.”

A quiet beat passed between us, neither of us winning the showdown.

Alex took advantage of the peaceful moment and slipped out of the SUV.

“Look, I’m sorry about your grandfather. I don’t recognize the last name Burns. I’m sure he meant a lot to you. Nonetheless, I just don’t see how this connects us.” I decided to get this whole discussion over with, so onward it was. I ran a hand through my hair, noting it needed to be trimmed. I’d call my stylist to come over to the office this week.

“Thank you. He was a very kind man,” my new friend acknowledged. “His name was James Burns. Jimmy to all his friends, and Paps to family. My dad is James Jr., and I was supposed to be…wait for it…James the Third. Surprise…I was a girl! I was named Frances for my maternal grandmother, and called Frankie by my dad and Paps because I was the tomboy they always wanted.”

Despite being focused on her story and family history, I did take pause when she mentioned tomboy; she certainly didn’t look like any buddy of mine.

“Are you listening?” She was intuitive, I’d give her that.

“Yes. While I’m glad you felt the need to share, I’m not sure what your family tree has to do with me. I have my own. Do you want to know?” I was being snarky, but this all seemed a bit superfluous. “I’ll fill you in. My grandmother and grandfather, Rose and Harold Miller, gave birth to my dad, Jake Miller, and his sister, Susie. Jake married Samantha for a quick cup of coffee and had me. Samantha appropriately named me after her favorite soap opera star because that’s what women who don’t really have any emotional ties to their child do. She didn’t wait long to split. Most of that you can read on the internet, except for the splitting and soap opera bit. Those facts have mostly been scrubbed from my history. I’d appreciate you not sharing that little fact.”

She nodded, casting her gaze to the floorboard, her long eyelashes accentuated by a coat of mascara. The strange but fascinating woman appeared deep in thought, giving me pause. Not sure why I’d dumped all that information on her; sharing the history of my name was deeper than I went with anyone since Teddy, and he and I were teammates. It wasn’t the type of information I spread around freely, let alone with strangers.

Ha, Teddy…no one busted my balls like him. I hadn’t thought about the guy in a while. I made a mental note to reach out to him.

“Look,” Frances spoke, bringing her gaze to meet mine, “are you listening?”

“To your personal mission to resurrect your grandfather’s love affair? Only half—”

“None of this is easy for me to say. It’s clear your grandmother never mentioned my Paps, and that stings. Fact is, he spoke about her a lot. ‘Rosie, the one who got away…’”

Clearing my throat, I stopped her from going on. “This is nonsense. Did you hear me say my mother didn’t raise me? S.P.L.I.T. My grandmother stepped in, and she never once mentioned your Paps, as you call him. She was married to my grandfather and died never loving anyone else. If you want money or a payout, or I don’t know what, this isn’t the place to get it.”

“But—”

“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle now.”

I felt a twinge in the back of my neck. It was the spot where stress always hit me, and I didn’t need this shit today. What I needed was a new bergamot supplier and a stiff cocktail, and now, a massage.

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Burns, but our time is up. Again, I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

Her smile now a full-on frown, she opened the door and set one foot outside. “I have a few things I could show you.”

She half turned to look at me with her doe eyes, and I almost acquiesced, but I didn’t need any more deadbeats coming out of my past. I’d stuffed my mom firmly in the back of my mind, and this James or Jimmy dude wasn’t making an appearance in my world. “No thanks. Have a good day.”

Frances didn’t look back. With her loss of pride rippling off her, she stepped fully out of the SUV and shut the door in my face. There was an idiot born every day, and I wasn’t one. No way I was falling for a con.

Thank whoever was up there in the sky, Alex appeared out of thin air and got into the driver’s seat. Being the man I’d come to respect, he didn’t ask any questions.

On our way back to the city, I made another mental note to discuss boundaries with Corey. No more visitors or setups or pranks or whatever this blasphemy was…

Later that week, my aunt Susie called. She didn’t touch base often, and when she did, it was when she wanted or needed something. It was Friday and I was looking forward to a golf weekend, and I knew it was about to be soured.

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