He met Tom and Mary about fifteen years ago, when he had just arrived in Taylorsville. Brianna must have been eight or nine at that time. Frank met them during the local 4th of July fest—an evening of music in the park, followed by some amazing fireworks.
Frank couldn’t remember if they had taken the kids or not. “Probably,” he mumbled. Frank and his friends arrived a bit late and the only decent spot left was right next to Tom and his family. As usual with events like this, everybody is cheerful and happy and soon they were talking with each other like one big happy family.
From the day that Frank arrived in this little town there were stories about him. He didn’t mind; in fact, he felt that it was completely normal. A stranger buys the biggest house in the area, tears it down and rebuilds it in an astonishing way. Of course people start to talk.
Nobody ever saw him work or knew exactly what he did and yet nobody dared to ask. Frank seemed to have this mystical natural power over people. He mangled himself into local society and soon everybody knew him but knew nothing about his personal life.
He went out with friends, joined in on local activities and helped out everywhere he could. The local girls’ soccer team, for instance: Frank heard they were struggling with finances and if it were to go on like this then the whole team would just vanish. The team was saved when they received an anonymous gift of $100,000 that secured the future of the team. Although the gift was anonymous, everybody knew it was Frank who had donated the money. No one else was in the financial position to give a large sum like that.
In time, people stopped wondering about him. Of course they were curious but slowly everybody seemed to know him. Frank didn’t favor people—you could find him chatting with the other rich people, and you would see him hang out with the local “white trash”. It seemed that it didn’t matter to Frank what your background was. He simply loved everybody and seemed to get along with everybody.
At one point during the 4th of July festival, Frank mentioned he was going to the bathroom and would pick up some beers. Mary jumped up, said she also had to go and would help him carry the beer back. That was the start of their relationship.
They walked together to the food and beverage area on the side of the park. Frank, at that time twenty-nine years old, wasn’t stupid. Mary was a beautiful woman that had aged well. For a forty-year-old she looked amazing. Her slim figure showed all the right curves. Her face, marked by the years and raising three kids, was delicate and fragile; her long brown hair curled up a bit; and she was a little bit shorter than Frank’s 5’9”. She wore tight blue jeans and a casual white blouse—simple but elegant.
Frank, however, discerned a dark shade over her and when they were waiting in line he simply asked, “What’s wrong?”
Mary raised her eyebrows.
