Page 91 of Letters From Victor

I stared at him, searching for the true motive behind this sudden shift. Weeks ago, he was desperate to keep me. Now, he was handing me an exit. “Why the change of heart?”

Frank shrugged—not casual, not careless, but uneasy. Like a man trying to shake off something clinging to his skin. “I want you to be happy, Barbara. That’s all. I’m not going to fight it anymore. I understand better now.”

“Understand what?” I asked, folding my arms.

“Why you’re unhappy,” he said. “Why you need…something different.”

My suspicion sharpened. This wasn’t like Frank at all. “Frank,” I said slowly, “what’s really going on?”

Instead of answering, he gave me a small, almost wistful smile. “Come with me,” he said, gesturing toward the church doors.

I hesitated, then followed as he walked ahead. He pushed one of the large wooden doors open, and sunlight poured into the dimly lit vestibule, flooding the marble floor with gold. A rush of warm California air greeted me.

Frank held the door open and nodded toward the curb. A sleek red convertible idled in front of the church. A young woman sat in the driver’s seat, her dark waves pinned back in a loose, effortless style. She wore large sunglasses and a lipstick-red scarf around her neck. Even from this distance, I could tell she was strikingly gorgeous.

I knew before I even asked.

“Who’s that?”

“Her name is Giselle,” Frank said carefully. “She’s…helping me with some things.”

I turned to Frank, who looked like a boy caught stealing apples. So this was it. All his pleading, all his resistance, all the promises that we could fix things…and he had someone waiting in the wings.

“She’s beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. Pain didn’t cut through me—only clarity. “So this is why you’re suddenly ready to move forward?”

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as if summoning courage. “Barbara,” he said slowly, measuring each word. “I’ve fallen in love with her. With Giselle. We want to be together.”

There it was.

I studied his face. He expected anger, maybe even heartbreak. I felt neither.

“I see,” I said simply, my mind catching up with this new reality. “That was…fast.”

“We didn’t plan for this,” he added quickly, as if that might absolve him. “It just…happened. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, and I meant that too. If anything, his honesty was a relief. “I’m glad you told me.”

Frank glanced back at the convertible, where Giselle now toyed with a cigarette holder, the thin column of smoke curling from the end like a lazy ribbon in the late morning sun. “We were thinking…” he started, then trailed off. I could almost hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt.

“You were thinking what?” I prompted, though I already had an idea of where this was going.

He raked a hand through his curly hair, mussing it further. “We thought it might be easier—for everyone—if we got the divorce done quickly. In Mexico.”

“Mexico?” I repeated, thrown for a loop.

“It’s faster down there,” he explained. “Cleaner. And it’s just as legal as here. We wouldn’t have to wait six months. We could both move on with our lives.”

I stared at him. Frank—the man who did everything by the book—was suggesting this? This wasn’t the Frank I knew. This was someone eager to cut the rope and let go.

“You’re serious.”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He looked at me with those softened eyes again, hopeful, as if I’d see this as the favor he thought it was. “Barbara, I just want what’s best for you—and for me.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Too much had happened in too short a time. Victor’s ominous warning, Mother’s death, the ghastly funeral, and now Frank—once my greatest obstacle—was practically ushering me out the door.

I looked over at Giselle in the convertible. She’d removed her sunglasses and was applying ruby-red lipstick in the rearview mirror. The confidence she exuded was like a heatwave coming off asphalt.

“I see you’re in good hands,” I said, letting my gaze linger on Giselle’s delicate, practiced movements. “Frank, I mean it. I’m glad you’ve found someone. I wish you both well.”

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