Page 23 of The Hampton Beach Café
“Can I...see it?” he asked.
“Of course! Now?”
He nodded, and they made their way down the street. On the way, she filled him in on why she was in Hampton Beach to begin with. She had just about finished her story when they arrived. She was glad they had gotten the cleaning done before he came around.
“Oh, they put a wall in,” he said.
“You haven't seen it in how long?” Frances asked.
After a brief pause, he walked towards the stairs. He was halfway up them when he turned and faced her.
“Not since the day my parents moved out.”
Frances followed him up the stairs, finding him standing at the door of his old room.
“What's with the camp bed?” he asked.
“This is where I'm living,” she explained.
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, now, sleeping over in my room. You know my parents would never have agreed to that.”
Rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, Frances bumped his shoulder with hers.
“I think the fact that we are in our forties and you live a few miles away would calm their nerves,” she said.
He rested his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her; she turned and put her other arm around him in a hug––completely forgetting that he was still shirtless. She felt her breath squeeze out of her as he hugged her tight.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Thank you for not letting them pull this place down…for coming back.”
But she wasn't back, not really, she would be gone in six months...Frances opened her mouth to try and explain, but Lucinda's voice broke the spell.
“Well, well, well, half-naked men in the accommodation, and we haven't even officially moved in yet.”
THIRTEEN
Two weeks later
Five words can be enough to completely ruin your day. In this case, 'we may have a problem' were the ones that did it. Those five words had been said over three hours ago, and since then, they had each been on the phone or pouring over local legislation to try and avoid the inevitable.
The letter that had prompted Lucinda to say the five words of death was lying on the floor where Frances had thrown it after the fourth phone call with the liquidation firm's lawyer.
“But I DO have a liquor license!” she said exasperatedly, down the phone to yet another local council member.
Their response was the same. “It needs to be signed off on when the name changed, and as the seven-day transfer window has expired, you cannot complete the transaction.”
It had been the same conversation every time she picked up the phone, and no one would take responsibility for omitting the information in her handover. She gave up.
“Fine, who do I need to apply to?” she said.
“Your application will take thirty days if it is approved for express processing,” the council member warned. “The planning officer is Kennedy Pine. When you make your decision, call back and ask for her office. Please keep in mind that until you have the requisite license, you may not open or trade as your letter of intent states that you will be serving alcohol. A non-express retail liquor license will take ninety days, so I suggest you apply for the express process as soon as you can.”
The dial tone sounded, and Frances realized she had been hung up on.
Thirty days if she could get Wasp Queen Kennedy to approve it. Even if she couldn't get Kennedy to approve the express pass, it would still be her decision anyway.
There was no chance. They had already ordered the liquor! Withdrawing and resubmitting an alcohol-free letter of intent would mean they would be out a couple of thousand bucks, and what would they do with the bar? All the work over the last two weeks would be for nothing, now Vince would be out of a gallery, and Alex would hate her...
Clarkson appeared at the door, his charming smile in full force.
