Two Much Alike

“I’m not so sure. Obviously it’s a great opportunity for them. I mean, what Minnesotan wouldn’t want two years working in a warm climate with beautiful sand beaches?”

“But she misses her grandkids.” Lois took one last sip of her iced tea, then reached for the check. “I’d better get back to the office. Oh, one other thing I should mention. We did get a call in response to one of Alex’s posters.”

Frannie’s heart skipped a beat. “And?”

“It wasn’t legit. Some kid thinking it was funny to place the call.”

Frannie breathed a relieved sigh. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Caller ID told us it was a call placed in South Minneapolis, not Los Angeles, which is where the kid said he was. Technology can be such a timesaver, can’t it?”

ARLENE’S DEPARTURE was a solemn occasion at the Harper house. Frannie, Alex, Emma and Luke all waved at her as she pulled out of the driveway in her shiny new minivan. Frannie understood the reason for her children’s tears. Even she had to choke back sadness as she said goodbye.

Seeing their faces as Arlene’s van disappeared from sight, Frannie was grateful that there was a summer arts festival going on in a nearby park. It would give them something to take their minds off their grandmother’s absence. As well as arts and crafts, there were street vendors and musical entertainment with a small outdoor stage production.

While she was putting together a picnic lunch for them to take along, the phone rang. She heard Alex call out that he’d answer it. A few minutes later, he came bursting into the kitchen, his eyes wide. In his fist was a slip of paper.

“I got it!”

“Got what?” Frannie asked, as he stood wiggling before her.

“I got the name of the place Dad is!” Frannie was stunned. After six weeks of getting no responses to Alex’s posters, she’d assumed that nothing would come of his efforts.

“Was that Auntie Lois?” she asked weakly.

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. It was some lady. She gave me her name but I didn’t write it down. I think it was Margaret or something with an M…” He trailed off, his face showing his bewilderment.

Frannie took the piece of paper from his hands. On it Alex had printed, “Gran Moray. North Shore. Fishing. Nice, helpful.”

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “It’s where Dad is…in Gran Moray.”

Gran Moray had to be Alex’s spelling of Grand Marais, the small Minnesota town located on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Frannie’s heart hammered relentlessly in her chest.

“The lady said she saw someone who looks just like Dad when they were fishing in one of the streams,” Alex continued. “They talked to him and everything.”

It couldn’t be, Frannie told herself, taking several calming breaths. “Your father doesn’t like to fish,” she told him. “And you heard your grandmother say that she doesn’t think he’s living nearby. It’s not him,” she said with a confidence she wasn’t feeling.

“How do you know? This lady said he looked just like the guy on the poster. It could be him, Mom. It could be.” There was a plea in her son’s voice that tore at Frannie’s heart.

“I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.” Frannie started to walk out of the room, but Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Auntie Lois doesn’t know about this.”

Frannie frowned. “What do you mean she doesn’t know? She must have given that woman our number…”

Guilt made his eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“Alex, you didn’t put up the posters with our phone number on it, did you?”

She could see by the look on his face, that was exactly what he’d done.

“Alex!”

“I wanted to be the one to get the calls, not Auntie Lois. He’s my father,” he said on a note of frustration.

Frannie pushed an errant curl away from her forehead. “Oh, good grief! Our phone number’s out there for all the world to see?”

“You don’t need to get upset. No one’s even called except for this one lady. And she was really nice, Mom.”

Again, pain knifed through Frannie’s heart. She could see how much Alex wanted this strange woman to be the connection to his father. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to find the words to tell her son that the man this woman had seen couldn’t possibly be Dennis.

“It can’t be him, Alex,” she began.

“Why not?” he demanded.

Because I don’t want it to be. She pushed aside that thought and said, “I told you. Your father doesn’t know how to fish.”

“Maybe he learned.”

“He hates cold weather. Why would he live in northern Minnesota?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to go find out. Will you take me?”

Frannie stifled a groan. “I wish you’d let me talk to the woman who called and gave you this information.”

“She said she lives in Minneapolis.”

“You should have written down her phone number.”

“You can call her. All you have to do is press star sixty-nine, and you can get it.”

Frannie realized he was right. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because she’d been too upset over the fact that there was even the tiniest of possibilities that the man spotted along the North Shore might be her ex-husband.

The woman who had phoned Alex was named Margaret, just as he’d said. She was also very nice and helpful, as he’d written on the slip of paper. Only, Frannie soon discovered that Alex hadn’t written those adjectives about the woman who’d phoned. They were the words Margaret had used to describe the man she’d seen at the North Shore.

As well as repeating what Alex had already told Frannie, the woman told her that this man didn’t seem like the type to abandon his kids. By the time the phone call ended, she had told Frannie enough about the man’s personality to convince her it couldn’t have been Dennis.

Frannie knew her ex-husband would have no patience for fishing or for helping a couple of senior citizens change a flat tire on their car—which is what the man had done for Margaret and her husband.

“Are we going to go there?” Alex asked as soon as she’d hung up the phone.

Frannie wanted to again say, “It’s not him,” but she stifled the words. “I’m going to call Lois and see what she thinks.”

Alex groaned. “Do you have to?”

“Yes.” Frannie dialed her sister’s number. As soon as she heard the voice-mail recording, she remembered that her sister was out of town for the weekend. “I forgot. She’s in Chicago and won’t be home until Tuesday.”

“What does that mean? That we have to wait for her to get back before we can do anything?” he asked, obviously hoping that the answer to his question wasn’t yes.