Roman shrugged. “Thought maybe it was about time we digitized old files. Not everything, but there might be items of interest we should keep at hand.”
“Well.” Frankie brightened. “Thank goodness we have a probie now to help you with all that. Seems like a perfect task for a Monday morning, right, Jasper?”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper looked a bit green at the prospect. “Sounds great.”
Roman laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it painless. Besides, we can make better use of that basement space where these were stashed.”
Frankie started to respond, but her eyes caught the familiar writing on the side of one of the boxes. Her heart panged.
“Frankie?”
“Sorry.” She blinked at Roman’s concerned tone. “That’s my dad’s writing. Do you mind?” She walked toward the desk.
“Not at all.” He stepped back as she flipped the lid free. “Hey, Monty. What brings you by?”
Frankie glanced up as her brother stepped next to Jasper. “What office supply store exploded in here?” Monty asked.
“Just doing a clean out. Look. Dad’s old files.” Frankie ran her fingers gently over a box. “He was so organized. You’d think he’d been in the military.”
“He did wield that label maker of his like a sidearm.” Monty’s smile seemed as sad as Frankie’s felt. After all this time, she still missed their dad so much she ached. She plucked out a file marked “personal.”
“Oh, wow. Monty, remember this?” She held up a picture from Halloween. “What were we? Five? Six?”
“What a shock, Frankie’s dressed as a firefighter,” Monty told Roman as he came over and took the folder. “Every year. Same costume, like some weird hazing ritual she’d made up for herself. This was my Darth Vader phase.” His chest puffed out a bit. “I spent weeks getting that box to light up and flicker. Also spent that summer’s lawn-mowing money on that authentic Vader helmet. I bet I still have it somewhere.”
“That your dad?” Roman asked.
“Yeah.” Frankie tilted her head. She and Monty had his eyes. The same smiling, kind eyes. Every year they’d take a picture in the same place, in front of the fire station, a tradition she missed to this day. She could remember standing there, in her oversize costume because she’d demanded the real thing, inhaling the scent of late-autumn rain and the mint candies her father kept in his pocket. “He always dressed in his uniform on Halloween. Said he had the best job in the world—no need to pretend he wanted to be something else.” She took the file back, slid it into the box.
“No, take it.” Roman caught her hand before she could withdraw. “They belong with you.”
“Dibs!” Monty snatched the Vader photo and clutched it to his chest.
“I want a copy,” Frankie demanded and offered a quick smile of appreciation at Roman. That he’d gone to this trouble and unearthed a treasure for her kicked away those final fragments of resentment. “Thanks.”
The speaker blared. Monty jumped, earning a roll of eyes from Frankie. All these years and it scared the stuffing out of him.
“Seven eighty-nine Flyaway Lane. See Electra Potter on-site.”
Frankie sighed.
“I know that code.” Roman snapped his fingers and darted off. He’d written them all down, alphabetized and memorized them. “But you’ve got to be kidding me. The Cocoon Club again?”
“Clyde and Harold must have finally gotten the Christmas lights out.” Frankie grabbed the SUV keys and her jacket. “I wonder what this year’s argument is about.”
“Let me go,” Roman told her before she could climb into the car.
“You sure?” Frankie didn’t look convinced. “Roman, it’s stringing Christmas lights. With old men who bicker more than two-year-olds.”
“You’ve been telling me I need to get more in touch with the community. Let me go.” He slipped the keys out of her hand. “Besides, maybe I can talk to them about not using the emergency call system to request help. We can figure out an alternative. If they disagree, I’d rather they be ticked off with me than with you.”
The offer—and reasoning—surprised her. She had to admit, she’d been dreading this annual call, while part of her had been worried it hadn’t occurred yet. Doubt niggled along the edges of agreeing with him. If he could survive Christmas-light day with the Cocoon Club, he could make it through anything. “Okay.” She stepped back and watched as he climbed into the SUV. “Why don’t you take Jasper with you?”