ONCE THEY WERE GONE, Daddy let go of Frankie’s hand. “Frankie,” he said.
“I’m sorry I left the restaurant,” said Frankie. “I’m sorry you had to come looking for me. And I’m sorry this happened to you, Daddy.” The words collected in her throat in a pile of letters and she could barely get them out.
“Nonsense,” said Daddy, patting her knee. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you in the kitchen. I let my frustration about Biggs get the best of me, and you just happened to be there to bear the brunt of it. You all right?”
Frankie wiped her nose and nodded.
“Good,” said Daddy, lowering his voice and glancing at the door. “Now, with all that behind us, this is what I wanted to tell you. Mr. Travers came to see me at the restaurant. He’s a council member on the chamber . . .”
“With Mr. Price?” said Frankie.
Daddy nodded. “But he and I go way back. He showed me something that Mr. Price has been circulating through town.” Daddy tried to sit up but winced again. “I think it’s in the pocket of my shirt somewhere in here, wherever they put it.”
“About boycotting the restaurant,” said Frankie.
Daddy raised his eyebrows. “You’ve seen it, then?”
Frankie nodded. “They’re all over.”
Daddy’s face fell. “When people are afraid, or made to feel afraid, they will believe anything.”
She looked away.
“You don’t think those things about me,” he asked, “do you?”
Frankie could answer him truthfully. “No, Daddy.”
Whether he believed her or not, she couldn’t quite tell.
“I am German,” he said gently. “An American German. And I am proud of that. As you should be yourself. This is your heritage. But that does not mean I am proud of what is happening right now in Germany and other countries in Europe under Hitler’s rule. No, sir. For that I am ashamed. But that is not me, and I can’t help where my mother and father were born or where I am from any more than I can help the color of my skin or eyes.” Then one side of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Well, eye, anyway.”
Frankie grinned.
“And I don’t think it’s fair to make judgments about me, or anyone for that matter, based on the things we can’t help,” he said. “Do you?”
“No,” said Frankie.
“No,” he said in agreement. “That’s right.”
“So what Mr. Stannum gave Mr. Price,” said Frankie, “what was it?”
“Stannum?” said Daddy. “Stannum was the one?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I could’ve stopped him; I should’ve, but I didn’t know . . .”
“Travers told me that Mr. Price was bragging about having gotten to someone. I never in my life figured it would be Stannum.” He put his hand over his chest and took in a long, jagged breath.
Frankie panicked. “Daddy, are you all right?”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. “I saw him at the square. He was there in the crowd when I went down. He kept telling me he was sorry. Over and over he said it. I didn’t know what he meant.” He took a deep breath to slow his heart. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“I couldn’t see what he found,” said Frankie. “Not too good, anyway. But even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t have been able to tell what it said. It was in German.”
Daddy nodded. “It must have been something I got from the union. A representative came by a week or so ago and asked about using the banquet room for an upcoming meeting.”
“What’s the union?”
“The German Beneficial Union,” said Daddy. “They help American Germans with things like insurance policies.”
“That’s it?”
“Frankie,” said Daddy. “I need you to do something for me. It’s very important, and you’re the only one that I can ask.”
If Daddy said anything else after that, she didn’t hear it, because you’re the only one repeated in her head at least a dozen times. Daddy needed her help—not Elizabeth’s, not Joan’s, but hers. This was a monumental day for Number Threes everywhere.
“Yes.” Because it didn’t matter what he would ask of her; Frankie was up for the job.
Daddy squeezed both of Frankie’s arms. “Your mother won’t want to keep the restaurant after I’m gone.”
“Gone?” she repeated, shaking her head. “Please, oh please, don’t say that.”
“Listen now, Frankie. You can’t let her sell it.” He coughed and squeezed her arms tighter. “Promise me.”
“Are you all right?” asked Frankie. “Maybe I should get the nurse.”
He stopped coughing. “No, don’t do that. I’m all right. Just a spell. Now, promise me you won’t let her.”
“Why?” said Frankie.
Daddy lifted his arm and clawed at the curtain beside him. He managed to take hold of a piece between his knuckles. Tugging a couple of times, he pulled the curtain back an inch or so, enough to let some light shine through. Then, taxed from the effort and unable to do more, he dropped his hand. “Because when I depart this world, I want to leave something behind that people remember. Something that people will talk about for years to come. Not just for me, but for your mother, for your sisters, for you.” He closed his eyes. “I want it to matter that I lived.”
Frankie nodded. He did matter, of course he did, but she of all people understood what it was like to feel like you didn’t.
“Listen to me, Frankie,” said Daddy, his voice fading. “If my brother has anything to do with it, well, that will be the end. We never did see things the same way, especially when it came to matters of business.” He rolled the top of his bedsheet in his hands and twisted. “Now, I know this restaurant can be something special, if only your mother will give it a chance.”
“But how?” asked Frankie.
Daddy shook his head. “That will be up to you. She’s as stubborn as you are, you know.”
“But why me?” she asked. Mother would be much more likely to do what Elizabeth or Joan asked of her. She would listen to them.
The corner of Daddy’s mouth turned up. “Because,” he said simply, “you, my dear girl, are the only one, I think, who can.”