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the will to care. Grateful was what she should be. What she wanted to be for her aunt’s sake at the very least. Yet she was numb and unresponsive. As limp as the wet noodle Mitch once called his love machine. Each reaction to a kind gesture was merely by rote, and that was some kind of pathetic. “I think I’m just overwhelmed. I did more today than I have—”
    “In months, and it’s about time, too.” Gail placed the Salisbury steak–mashed potato combo dinner in front of her. “I know, Frankie. Believe me, I know. You were sinking, kiddo. I had no choice but to call in reinforcements. Someone had to convince you to get out of bed and do something for yourself. You’re young. A beautiful young woman who should be out celebrating her freedom from that wanker, not holed up in her bedroom, sleeping all day, drowning in depression. He’s not worth that kind of vigil, my girl.”
    She knew that. She. Knew. Yet, it remained. This dark, dank hole of nothingness. Nothing to plan for, nothing to look forward to, nothing to get out of her own way for. Just nothing. “You’re right,” she agreed, flat and disinterested.
    Gail tapped her fork on the edge of the plastic covering the TV dinner. “I’ll wait until you say it like you mean it. And you will, cookie. I promise you, you will. Maxine was just like you. If you’d been interested enough to ask her, she’d have told you herself. She pulled up her bootstraps, and it wasn’t easy, but she did it. Though she had more at stake with a young boy. What you need to do is find your purpose.”
    Why?
    Frankie pushed the spongy Salisbury steak against her fork, forcing herself to take a bite, knowing it would please her aunt. “I’m not sure what that means anymore.”
    “It means you let your whole world revolve around a man who isn’t worth the crud on the bottom of my shoe. You had nothing that was just Frankie’s—it’s why you’re so lost. You were supportive long before he hit the big time, too. You arranged all his appearances and cookbook signings. You answered all his emails from fans and took care of that stupid FaceSpace or whatever ya call it. And he cheated on you, and left you with nothing.”
    Frankie fought to swallow the gritty mashed potatoes. “It’s MySpace and Facebook, and I have nothing because I signed a prenup that said I’d get nothing. There’s no one to blame for that but me.” And it had never occurred to her to change that. Not once had she considered Mitch’s empire hers, though she’d helped him build it from scratch.
    She didn’t even have a hobby. Jesus.
    Gail threw her fork down in disgust. “He’s a dirty bird, Frankie. I told you that from the get-go. He took advantage of your youth and those starry eyes of yours, all romantic and gooey. That he left you with nothing after everything you’ve done for him, whether you signed something or not, makes me want to sauté his man parts.” She shook her head in revulsion. “Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re moving forward. Just like Max says. Now it’s time for your world to revolve around you.”
    Maybe it could just stop spinning altogether and Mitch and Bamby would fall off the edge of it. “Forward,” she mumbled on her last bite of spongy Salisbury steak, washing it down with the glass of water her aunt gave her.
    Gail perked up, the hope in her eyes bright and bubbly. “That’s the spirit. Now, if you finish all your dinner, you can have dessert. I made a nice peanut butter cup pie while you were gone with Maxine, hoping we’d have something to celebrate when you got back.”
    Yay.
    She had a job at a diner.
    Celebrate good times.
    C’mon.

     
    “Frankie? Wake up.” Gail’s soft hand, covered in a light application of lily of the valley hand cream, caressed her cheek.
    She struggled to force her eyes open, muttering, “Are you okay, Aunt Gail?”
    “I’m fine, honey. Phone’s for you.” Gail opened her hand and put the phone in it.
    She put it to her