Bernadette hadn’t been able to shake the thought, ever since Robyn had mentioned it, that Frankie wasn’t the kind of person who could spend the rest of her life in Calgary. Because, first of all, anybody could spend all of their life anywhere. She’d tried talking to Jimmy about it, asked him if he thought there was something off about Robyn, but he just shook his head.
“You have too much time on your hands,” Jimmy said. “If you’ve got the time to worry about the habits of that girl, you need to take on a hobby.”
“What about Frankie?”
“Seems fine to me. She’s got a job.”
Of course he would say that. He’d always let Frankie get away with murder. Bernadette watched her dad at the sewing machine; he was working on some kind of blanket. But he was totally out of it. He clearly hadn’t notic
