Page 10 of The Hampton Beach Café
This stopped her in her tracks. The woman, Kennedy apparently, turned to look at him. She took the coffee roughly, did not say thank you, and turned to leave. Frances watched as she paused outside the door and took a sip, turning back to face them through the windows. Frances winced through a half smile she hoped conveyed her apology and mortification over having spilled the coffee. This woman must be having an absolutely horrendous day to have reacted so strongly to something so minor––it hadn’t even splattered on the woman’s shoes, from what she could tell.
All compassion evaporated as she made eye contact with the woman mid-sip. She narrowed her eyes at Frances and slowly lowered the cup. In one swift movement, she dumped the coffee in the trash can next to her. The heavy thump they could hear even through the closed door told them both it was still full.
“What…what just happened?” Frances said.
“That…” Vincent said, emerging from behind the wall of cardboard boxes with a mop, “…was Ms. Kennedy Pine. The local councilor hates tourists, hates every coffee I’ve ever made her but comes in here for her lunchtime fix because…well, in her words, it’s always dead. So, yeah, she’s a ray of sunshine.”
Frances stopped to pick up the paper cup and lid that had ruptured. The name rang a bell, but she couldn’t tell why.
“Here, let me grab the bucket, or it’ll drip,” she said, brow furrowed as she tried to place the name.
As Vincent returned with the mop bucket, he waved his hand at her. “You don’t have to clean up. It was an accident.”
“Oh, stop. I’d be helping you if it was a random teenager who dropped their Frappuccino double caramel on purpose. The fact that it was me staring and flinging it across the room has nothing to do with it. I’m just glad it didn't get on any of your work.”
The blank look on Vincent’s face made her laugh. He clearly knew nothing about coffee at all.
“I don’t make whatever that is,” he said. “I don’t think I can even remember what you just said.”
“It’s basically a milkshake with a shot of coffee in it, very tasty, but dentists bully you if you drink too many.”
As she said the word bully, it all came flooding back. Kennedy Pine, queen of Statesmen High. No wonder Frances felt like a kid being picked on. She had actually been picked on by this girl as a kid.
“You ok?” Vincent asked.
“Yeah, I just remembered her,” she explained. “We went to high school together. She was exactly like you’d imagine her to have been.”
Their eyes met, and she saw understanding in his expression. Funny how people with similar life experiences tend to flock together even when they don’t know they share them yet.
Frances felt her pocket vibrate and recognized the pattern as an incoming call from the board.
“Sorry, excuse me, I have to take this,” she said.
“Frances Crawford,” she said in her calm business voice.
“Hi, Frances. It’s Veronica.”
“How are you, Veronica?” Frances asked. Veronica was as close as it got to a friend on the board.
“Well, I’m fine…” she said nervously, “…but we, uh, need to talk.”
SEVEN
Frances stepped outside the door. The tone of voice was never something you wanted to hear. Had Crawford Incorporated been sued, and was a major investor just arrested? It could be anything.
“Well?” Frances pushed.
“Well, the thing is…” Veronica said, “…there’s a clause in your contract…”
The cold rush of panic that had flooded her moments ago settled into a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach.
“What clause?”
“The partnership, the shares, and your position on the board were all contingent on a few things,” Veronica explained, her voice wavering. “No compete, limited freelancing, capped––“
“I know that. What’s the problem?”
She heard the woman gulp so clearly that it was almost audible.
