DADDY CAME HOME LATE that night. And more than a few nights after that. Frankie had gotten good at staying awake way past the time she’d normally drift off, for it was easy to stay awake when you’re trying to make sense of what’s going on with Daddy and at the same time thinking of ways to prove to everyone that you don’t belong in the kitchen, that you could do other, more important things if only you had the chance.
As good as Frankie got at keeping herself up until the wee hours of the night, she got even better at listening for the creak of the door to their apartment and Daddy’s footsteps in the hall. She made Bismarck sleep by her bedroom door, instead of beside her in bed. For one thing, it was too hot to sleep next to a panting fur coat, and for another, Bismarck’s ears were twice the size of Frankie’s and could hear impossibly faraway things like the hiccup of a mouse.
Frankie suspected that Mother stayed awake long into the nights as well, but if she did, she and Daddy were careful to keep their talks at a whisper.