Page 13 of The Hampton Beach Café 2
“Sorry,” he said as he joined her. “I didn't think I'd be working so much.”
“That's okay,” she replied. She was used to it after all––and it was just as often she was too busy to pay attention to Malcolm.
“I want to show you something,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I haven't posted it, but I couldn't help but take it––you look incredible.”
He turned the phone to show her a photograph taken from behind and slightly to the left of her as she leaned one hand on the railing and held the champagne flute in the other. Her form-fitting dress hugged her curves and glittered in the golden light from the sunset. She gasped. She actually did look incredible. The view was perfectly in focus, and the coast trailed off to the side of the shot.
“Oh wow...” she said quietly.
“Now, I know you don't do socials, but you're not identifiable in this one, and it's just such a good shot...”
Frances laughed. “Sure, that one you can post.”
“On the listing, too?” he asked.
“So long as you never use the 'she's not included in the house price' joke ever again.”
“Deal.”
He held out his hand for a handshake. She took it and immediately realized she should have known better. Turning her hand, Clarkson raised her knuckles to his lips and lightly kissed them. She couldn't deny the electric feeling that ran up her arm...but was it excitement or fear?
EIGHT
It was kind of funny to think that just a few days ago, she was glammed up and on a fancy rooftop eating what she found out later to be Michelin-starred food––that influencer party must have cost Clarkson a pretty penny. Now, though, she was on her knees in sweatpants scrubbing the tile where she had spilled the adhesive glue that formed part of the installation of the accessibility rails in the customer bathroom.
For whatever reason she couldn't possibly fathom, the company had decided to make the glue an odd fluorescent pink. It was, she supposed, never supposed to be seen because it was actually designed to be an extra layer of security. You squirted it in the wall, waited 30 seconds, then drilled the screws in.
Maybe she had used too much because, within that 30 seconds, it had started pouring out of the bracket she had inserted. Scrambling to get the rail screwed had been messy, but now that adhesive had cured rock hard––on her hand, the wall, the drill, and the floor.
Alex was not likely to be pleased about the drill.
Sighing, Frances stood. She needed a coffee if she would be doing this all day. As she emerged into the café space, she noticed Lucinda standing at the counter, staring intently at the lock screen on her phone.
She pushed the thing away from her roughly and turned, jumping when she saw Frances.
“Frances! How long have you been there?”
“About two seconds...?”
Lucinda shook her head.
“You scared me! Creeping around, trying to age me.”
Frances resumed her steps towards the counter. She definitely needed coffee if Lucinda was going to be weird. Maybe she was sick of living in such close proximity? Frances wasn't, but considering how busy Lucinda usually was and how many clients she had, it would be understandable if sharing a house with her friend was getting old.
“I was working in the bathroom. I thought you were working out of the Wharf Café today?”
“No,” she said. “I went down there, but there was a bridge tournament going on, and I couldn't concentrate.”
She was staring at her phone again, Frances noticed.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah...”
Setting to prepping the machine and fussing over the checklist, she watched Lucinda out of the corner of her eye.
“So, did I tell you he kissed my hand up on the balcony?”
