Page 4 of The Hampton Beach Café
Frances swatted at Lucinda’s knee. She hated being called birthday girl––celebrating her birthday always made her feel like a child. She was supposed to be too grown up for all that stuff now. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. She had been thinking about a trip for a while now…
“Well…” she said, “…it’s not exactly Jamaica, but I have been meaning to visit Hampton Beach. I haven’t been back home since I left for college. Mom’s just an hour down the road in Salem. I thought I could lurk around the foreshore and pop down for a visit…”
“I say Fiji, and you say New Hampshire?” Lucinda raised an eyebrow but held her hands up in surrender under the glare Frances sent her way. “Alright, alright, I can give New Hampshire a go. Just tell me there’s WiFi?”
THREE
The flight to Boston was not exactly what Lucinda had in mind to kick off a long weekend of relaxation––but it sure did beat driving for two days, spending one day at the destination, and driving two days back.
Though it had to be said, even by Lucinda, that even the expressway their taxi was driving them down was more green and lush than anywhere either of them had seen in a long time.
“How much further?” Lucinda asked the cabbie.
“About ten minutes,” he replied. “Now, if you ladies need a pickup in a few days, you let me know. I’ll pick you up any time you like. Carry your bags…jeez, I’ll get the wife to cook you breakfast if you want!”
“Yeah,” Lucinda said. “I bet.”
He handed his card over his shoulder, despite the doubtful look cast on it by Lucinda––Frances giggled. Lucinda had insisted on paying for the cab because she was not about to take a train anywhere, and even though she could afford it, Frances knew her friend probably wasn’t exactly looking forward to repeating the three-figure taxi ride.
“Luci, I’m happy to pay next time––”
“No! It’s your birthday! Everything is free on your birthday.”
Frances rolled her eyes. This was not the first so-called ‘free’ thing Lucinda had insisted on paying for based on the same faulty logic that Frances was turning forty-one this weekend.
“Well, if it’s your birthday, then you need a birthday treat,” the cabbie said. “After we finish up with getting you to your accommodation, how’s about we just drop your bags off, and then I show you the best ice cream parlor in town––no extra cost.”
“What a bargain! How can we resist,” Lucinda said dryly, but the wink she sent the driver in his rearview mirror let him know she was teasing.
The green of the expressway was starting to thin out, and wide-open flat plains greeted them instead. As they drew closer to the Bed and Breakfast Lucinda had chosen, Frances could feel the creeping urge to just block out everything that had happened the last few days. She could do with a little escape, surely?
“What you need is something to focus on,” Lucinda said. “You need a project or a hobby––not work! Then you won’t be running away from your problems, but you will have a solid way of not thinking about them all the time.”
“A hobby?” Frances repeated. “You think a hobby is the best way to forget that my husband ran off, divorced me, and I don’t even know where he is?”
“Yikes,” the cabbie said. “Maybe get two scoops of ice cream.”
Lucinda shot him a look. “Obviously not, but I know you. You’ll either work yourself to the bone or worry yourself away to nothing. You should take up baking, painting, or learning a language!”
“Well, with all the time you think I have, why not all three?”
The friends mock glared at each other before Lucinda reached a handout and rested it on Frances’s knee. “You really don’t know where he is?”
“Nope…no idea,” Frances said. “And according to his lawyer, I have no right whatsoever to even ask.”
This was too depressing.
“Hey, Mike, was it?” Frances said. “I need the ice cream before we do bags.”
“No problem.” Mike laughed and canceled the blinker, carrying on straight ahead towards the sea.
As they rounded the last corner, both women grinned at each other as they took in the wide sweeping shoreline––this was going to be a good weekend. Living in California meant that neither Frances nor Lucinda was easily impressed when it came to beaches, but this stretch of soft-looking sand, relatively free from people at the moment and with a chill in the air, was positively breathtaking. After much debate, they finally agreed to get an ice cream and sit outside––even though it was kind of freezing compared to Los Angeles, where just a day ago, they had been luxuriating in the sun on a rooftop bar.
The two old friends sat perched on a small stone bench a few steps away from the ice cream parlor Mike the Cabbie had suggested. Mike had ordered a hot chocolate and stepped away to take a call, leaving Frances and Lucinda to chat in peace for the first time that day.
“This is pretty good,” Lucinda said. “You should try some.”
Looking at her friend’s bright purple ice cream, Frances made a face and shook her head.
