Page 25 of The Hampton Beach Café
“No, I have to get these applications underway. You could stay and help with the paint job?”
Clarkson shook his head. “I'm no good for painting. I'll go by the council office and see if I can get Kennedy on the right side of the table.”
The thought filled Frances with dread, but if there was one person who might be able to charm the Wasp Queen, it was probably the Prom King.
FOURTEEN
The floors were sanded and re-oiled, the walls freshly painted, and the customer bathroom downstairs was clean and functional––but it wasn’t enough. In order to qualify for the express thirty-day process, Frances discovered, they needed to prove that they could open within the thirty days. That meant that they needed to have trial runs, all their furniture sorted out, and plans for the first day and marketing in place.
“We need to get furniture in here today,” Clarkson announced as he entered the door.
“What, why?” Lucinda asked, puzzled.
“Because Kennedy is going on vacation the day after tomorrow and won’t be back for three weeks, if we don’t get her today, we can't even consider opening for two months. I called in a favor with a marketing buddy of mine, and they've granted us a master package. Online and print advertising, he forwarded me these to show as examples.”
In his hand were half a dozen business cards with spaces for loyalty stamps on the back. The front showed a watercolor painting of a storefront similar to the real one, with 'The Local' in old-fashioned print across the front.
“We are not calling it The Local,” Lucinda said dryly.
“No, but it sounds better than 'Text Goes Here'…” Clarkson quipped, “…you and Vince need to drive out to Exeter and pick up tables, chairs, some throw rugs, and other staging stuff. I tried to get my staging person, but she's too busy for a non-listing job. Take my expenses card and put it all on there––we’ll work it out when it’s done.”
“Staging?” Alex asked as he entered from the kitchen area. “What staging?”
“You know, the stuff realtors do to make a house look lived in even when it's been empty,” Lucinda filled in.
“Interior design meant to elicit positive feelings and inspire clients to imagine how their life could look in their new home, actually,” Clarkson corrected.
“Yeah yeah, marketing,” Lucinda said. “Okay. I'll get Vince to bring his truck along. This card doesn't have a name on it, but says authorized user?”
“Yeah, it’s an expenses card. I put your name on the approval list. You might need to show your ID when you get to pay. You won’t max it out but let’s not push it, okay?”
“What can I do?” Alex asked.
“Get the coffee stuff ready? Vince dropped it all off last night. He bought so much stuff that was entirely unnecessary for his setup but could actually work here,” Frances said, picking up her bag. “When is the appointment with Kennedy?”
“I managed to get it in for one o'clock,” Clarkson said. “It will take about an hour of paperwork, then an inspection of the property.”
Alex stared. “That's obscene! Liquor licenses cannot possibly be this complicated!”
Clarkson shrugged. “Honestly, with Kennedy, it might be her sticking to the rules like a hawk or her being...difficult.”
He met Alex's eyes, but Alex wasn't having it. He threw his hands in the air and returned to the kitchen beyond the built-in counter to continue fussing with the coffee equipment.
The tension between the two of them was getting old but Frances wasn't surprised remembering how Clarkson had been in high school. Alex had excelled in track and, according to the pings on her social media, still was quite the runner, and for whatever reason that irked Clarkson. Frances figured it was just that he was used to being the sports star and didn't like little Alex Lockwood coming in and running faster than him.
“Right, so we have…” Lucinda counted on her fingers, “…six hours to get two couches, four tables, twelve chairs, and decor from Exeter and installed. Alex may need to do the heavy lifting here while we head back and forth.”
Lucinda's admiration of Vincent's incredible good looks had calmed down over the last few weeks, but Frances noticed she was still keen on spending as much time as possible with him. She shook her head. So long as it didn't get in the way of her plans, she was fine. In a way, she was glad for this last-minute panic. When she was always on the go, she had no reason to think about anything that had happened.
“Right…” Clarkson said, “…let's get this application finalized while you lot do the first trip up to Exeter.”
FIFTEEN
They drove in silence from the council offices to the café, Frances finding every moment crammed into the back seat of Kennedy's hatchback claustrophobic and tense. The maddening woman had refused to say anything about the paperwork portion, Frances had been surprised with an interview portion that sent her nerves reeling, and now she was about to open the doors to her––hopefully––fully furnished café, never having seen it.
Pulling into Cherry Street, Frances let out a small sigh of relief––at least she could get out of this ridiculous car soon. They had installed curtains so people couldn't peek in on the renovations, but now Frances cursed them.
“You'll need to adjust the signage,” Kennedy stated. “The A-Frame is a no-go.”
