Page 20 of The Hampton Beach Café
“We're pretty much good to go,” Frances said. “There's business permission tied to the location that stipulates hospitality but non-retail food only––aka we can sell food, but we can't be a supermarket––we can also sell items and hold ticketed events. It's all been transferred to my name solely from the liquidators, and the taxes have been paid in full for a year, so that's actually a huge win. There's also a liquor license that seems to be valid. Your turn.”
“I've moved all the boxes into the biggest bedroom after vacuuming it. So much dust. The other bedrooms need to be cleaned, and even if the bathroom isn't plumbed in, it needs a thorough cleaning. The downstairs one is plumbed in, but it’s pretty nasty. That's a top priority if we go down the café route.”
Frances nodded. “I think that's the best plan. There's a bit of stuff under there that would be useful if it still runs. Hey, I have an awkward question…”
She had gestured to a large white sheet covering some refrigeration display cabinets that would do nicely for sandwiches and cakes. Lucinda rose to go and inspect the pile but stopped in her tracks. “What awkward question?”
“Have you heard from Alex?” Frances asked. They hadn’t seen him since their pleasant dinner on their first night, and she was feeling weird about it. “I feel like I should tell him I bought his childhood home…you know?”
“Ding frickin’ dong…is that your coffee guy?” she said, pointing.
Frances turned to see Vincent peering in through the glass. “Technically speaking, yes, that's Vincent.”
“You didn't tell me he was an LA Ten!” she said, looking down at her dust-covered sweatpants and old collage t-shirt. “You sneaky cow!”
She knew that laughing wouldn't help Lucinda's mood, but she let herself do it anyway. As she walked toward the door to let him in, she spoke over her shoulder.
“Unintentional, I promise––I'm not interested in Vincent…” she said, “…or anyone for that matter. Still trying to figure out the whole suddenly single at forty-one thing.”
What she left unsaid, though, was that she was too hurt by Malcolm to even contemplate a man in her life…maybe ever again. She still found herself crying at least once a day, but Lucinda didn't need to know that.
“Hey!” she said, taking the purse he held out to her. “Thank you so much!”
“No worries,” he said. “This is the place you bought?”
“It is,” Frances said, smiling. “What do you think?”
They walked back to the desk and chairs where Lucinda sat, waiting to be introduced. Frances stared. Somehow, in the four seconds she had been answering the door and saying hello, Lucinda had shaken off most of the dust from her t-shirt and tied it up into a figure-hugging and distractingly flattering crop top proudly featuring the Stanford name across her chest. The sweats had obviously been worn over the top of yoga pants because the skin-tight black leggings that Lucinda was wearing were spotlessly clean. Her hair was piled on top of her head and secured with a pencil. Frances marveled. This woman could wear anything and have it look completely fashionable and effortless at the same time.
“I think you'll do great,” Vincent said, his eyes firmly on Lucinda. “I'm Vincent, the one with the purse?”
“I figured,” she said, smiling. “I'm Lucinda, the brains in this operation.”
“Rude!” Frances replied, laughing.
Lucinda popped her ankles up onto the desk, showcasing her long legs even more, “…and a lie, she's actually brilliant.”
Frances felt herself flush.
“We haven't decided yet what we're actually going to do here,” Frances said, trying to change the subject. “We have a lot of space, and the second room off to the side doesn't really work as more seating.”
Together they toured the shop layout. Originally, the shop would have been one large room, but at some point, since the Lockwoods had it, a wall had been put in, dividing the space unequally. The front of the store was classic, with two large bay windows with a door set between them. The door opened into the main section, with the additional wall running from the door to the back of the space. A large archway allowed for light and access to the second room. It wasn't unattractive. It just didn't help a simple floor plan.
“This is a gorgeous space,” Vincent said. “The light is stunning. Does this door go outside?”
The far wall did boast a large wooden door that led to the garden, and Frances nodded.
“We're thinking about cleaning up the garden a bit and making it an outdoor seating area…” Lucinda said, “…but we're a bit lost for this room. More seating in here would be fine, but it's a little awkward, with the wall making this little alcove in the back corner.”
Vincent nodded. “You have a liquor license?”
“Sure do…” Frances said, “…but I don't want to run a bar.”
“You don't have to run one, per se…” he said, “…but you could put one in for after-hours events? Make it a good-looking one, and it can double as an art piece here…like this.”
The photographs he brought up on his phone were stunning, intricately carved wooden bars with inset brass detailing and a glass top to protect the surface of the bar.
“That's incredible!” Frances exclaimed, and the warm organic feel of the natural decorations combined with the soft and light color of the wood made her think of a cottage in the woods where neighbors dropped by to try the owner’s newest tea blend.
