Page 27 of The Hampton Beach Café 2
"You're too anxious," Lucinda said. "You need to chill out more."
Glaring, Frances raised an accusing finger.
"The last time I listened to you about relaxing, we visited Hampton Beach for a relaxing weekend to forget my idiot ex-husband and I wound up sinking all my money into a passion project café."
Lucinda flicked the light on the hallway wall and pursed her lips into a judgmental pout.
“And I’d like to point out that you made that particular decision on your own,” Lucinda said. “You gonna tell me how today was or are you anxiety hoarding?”
"I recognize that you may well not believe me, but I'm really not…" Frances said, "…we did alright. The influencer storm seems to have passed. They may have been pretty annoying to have in the café, but they did spend some money for their content––I'm glad they all knew better than to ask for discounts or free stuff. Oh, and you know that guy who called ahead to pre-order every single thing we have on the menu? He took it down the beach and ate it all in under forty minutes. He's posting it tomorrow as a food eating challenge––apparently, lots of his followers head to places after him and try to beat his time."
Lucinda stared at her. "That's disgusting...there were, like, ten slices of cake in that bag!"
"Yep! Well, five slices of cake plus four muffins, three paninis, a grilled cheese, a vegan breakfast burrito, and only two slices of the pie because Alex refused to cook four pies just for this guy's order. Plus, three milkshakes to go and two black coffees because he wanted to try both types of beans we had."
Pressing the backs of her hands against her eyes, Lucinda groaned, "No…stop, I feel sick just thinking about it. That was enough food for five people! How many people can possibly be interested in watching that!?"
Laughing now, Frances headed down the hallway to check on the stock room with Lucinda at her heels.
"According to his press kit that he insisted on leaving with me, two point five million people care enough to press subscribe," she said.
Silence from Lucinda indicated to Frances that her friend was absolutely aghast at this number––it took a lot to make Lucinda speechless.
As she double-checked the food locker, pushed the bags of coffee beans back in line and counted how many packets of flour they had already used, she could hear the tiny spluttered noises of disapproval.
"And he's sending his followers here?" Lucinda finally asked.
"Not sending, but apparently it's common," Frances said. "He promised me he would tell them it was only available if they call and order in advance––and honestly, I'm not mad if we get a couple of orders for well over a hundred bucks. If it does super well, Alex will have to learn to make the cakes in single serving tins. We did sell them all, but I was worried for a bit."
Lucinda joined in the tidying. "And how is Alex? I haven't seen him much...you two okay?"
"Yeah?" Frances shrugged. "Why wouldn't we be?"
"Just...oh, nothing. I'm sure his visceral dislike of Clarkson has nothing to do with the fact that you've gone on two dates with him now..."
Frances rolled her eyes. "No! Alex and Clarkson never got along, even way back in high school. Clarkson was the football superstar, the basketball favorite, and the prom king, for heaven’s sake. He didn't like that when he joined the track team, Alex beat him every time. And anyway, I went out to dinner one time with Clarkson. It's not like it was a proper date..."
"He expressly told you that if it was too soon for a date, he'd understand. It was a proper date. Don't tell lies. And what about the cocktail bar a few days ago?"
"That was friendly!"
"Mmm hm," Lucinda said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "And remind me why you said yes, again?"
Frances felt her nose screwing up into a less than flattering expression, but she knew Lucinda wouldn't let it go, so she answered, "Because Malcolm––"
"We don't say his name! He doesn't deserve a name," Lucinda chided.
Groaning, Frances rolled her eyes.
"Fine, that dirty rotten ex-husband of mine apparently legged it off to Texas to take his high school sweetheart to fancy balls."
"Does that woman who told you at least feel bad about it?"
The food locker wouldn't get any tidier, so Frances stepped back and shoved the heavy door closed.
"Don't call her that woman," she said. "She's an old friend of mine and she was mortified to have upset me...but with Hayley being Hayley, she thinks I'm better off knowing. Not to mention she had to be actively convinced by both me on the phone and a friend of hers in real life not to make a scene the next time she saw him. Luckily she's leaving Dallas today, so it won't be a problem anymore."
She moved on to the inventory list. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she needed to stay on top of her ordering––there would be trouble in the kitchen if she ran out of something. Frances never would have guessed that not only was Alex a phenomenal baker, but he was also borderline precious about his kitchen and ingredients.
