Page 24 of The Hampton Beach Café
“What's wrong?” he asked, stepping over the pile of paper on the floor.
She explained the calls she had gone through and their options.
“Kennedy Pine, eh?” he asked. “I bet that will go really well.”
Alex's voice made her jump. He stepped through the archway right behind her.
“The liquidation house still claims they were never told about the transfer,” he said. “Oh, Clarkson, you're here.”
The two men eyed one another warily. They had never been friendly in high school, and Frances assumed there had been no reason for that to change, but she did not have the time or energy to deal with that right now.
“Yes, he is…” she said, “…he's helping. We need to convince Kennedy Pine to give us special permission for a thirty-day express liquor license, or we can't open for three months.”
Silence filled the space, and Frances felt like she might burst.
“Well, we will need to put together an impeccable application…” Alex said, “…but the thirty days might actually be not so bad...give us extra time to get the place ready.”
He gestured around at the messy room. He wasn't wrong, but this was not going to plan, and that was absolutely not ok.
“But the season will have started...” Clarkson said.
“Better late than never, and better actually ready than having a grand opening with duct tape on the vents,” Alex retorted.
Frances felt herself losing her ability to control her breath, she was starting to panic, and she hated it.
Alex stepped forward and knelt in front of the chair.
“Frances…” he said softly, holding out his hand, “…tap.”
She could have cried. Taking his hand, she started tapping out the Fibonacci sequence on the back of his hand.
Tap
Tap
Tap tap
Tap tap tap
Tap tap tap tap
By the time she was up to twenty-three taps, her breathing had come back to normal, and she felt less queasy.
“I can't believe you remembered that,” she said quietly.
One corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “Of course I did.”
“I'm lost,” Clarkson said.
Standing now, Alex scoffed under his breath and looked down to Frances, “We'll get the application in, she will approve thirty days, and she'll sign off on our opening at the end of June. We'll get it done.”
With that, he walked up the stairs to continue working on the bathroom so she and Lucinda could stop using the downstairs one.
Clarkson still looked lost, and Frances took pity on him.
“It's a technique I had in high school to help with the panic attacks.”
He nodded. “Right, right, anyway, time for a break?”
