Once she’d gotten them engaged, she blinked hard—c’mon, tears—and sniffled. “I probably shouldn’t even be working, it’s not like I need to, anymore.”

That got a spark of interest. “Then why are you here?” Blackbeard asked.

“It’s…it keeps me from sitting at home and just crying. I feel so lost sometimes, you know? Like, what’s the point?”

If she were a fisherperson, she’d have said the guy swallowed her bait—hook, line, and sinker. Come to think of it, what was a sinker?

“Ah, girlie, that’s a shame, now.” He took her hand and pulled her closer. “Sounds to me like you need to find a new purpose, don’t you? Someone to help you find the way.”

Don’t jump too fast, Frankie. “I…I”—she looked down, trying for humble modesty—“I guess. Maybe.”

“I remember you from a while back. You asked what the Patriot Zealots were.” The man who spoke was clean-shaven with a buzz cut.

Here was her chance to bring up Kit. “I was curious. Still am…maybe. Kinda. A couple of your women were at the grocery, and I asked them if they liked being with you.” Frankie tried for a shy expression. “They said yes. They were older, you know, not much like me, but they had a younger woman with them. And…wait, is she still there?”

Buzzcut narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Frankie put on an unsure expression. “It’s…I mean the older women were really kind, but I just hoped that there were younger people there, my age, you know. Because…I guess I’ve never gotten very close to older people.

The man she was talking with frowned. “Did she have a name?”

“No, she never even spoke, but…” Please, don’t let me get Kit into trouble. Frankie tapped her lips as if thinking. “Maybe a little shorter than me, really slender, fair skin, brown eyes, streaky long brown hair.”

“Sounds like Kirsten,” a man with a long red beard said.

“There was that day we took her with us to buy bareroot trees and seedlings for the gardens.” Buzzcut nodded at Frankie. “She’s still at the compound.”

Suppressing a shout of glee, Frankie bounced on her toes like a little girl. “Awesome.”

When Blackbeard seemed surprised at her enthusiasm, she confided, “I’m really, like, more comfortable around girls my age. More than older women.”

His gaze ran over her body. “What about older men?”

“Um. I…” She put her finger in her mouth and cast him a hesitant, not quite flirty glance. Men like you make me want to throw up. “They’re… That’s different.”

He half smiled, took her hand, and ran his thumb over her palm.

She barely kept from jerking away.

He squeezed her hand. “I think we should talk. I might be able to point you in a good direction. The right direction.”