Page 3 of The Hampton Beach Café 2
How dare she? How dare this pathetic, cruel viper of a woman bring up her father? Kennedy was no different from when they'd been in high school together. She was nasty all the way through, and Frances realized there was no kindness there.
She had wanted to shout at her––to say something equally devastating but she found that, once again, she was speechless. Memories of being sixteen and taunted by the same person standing in front of her flooded her mind.
Wait, why was she standing?
“You come up here to escape your sad little divorce and slither back into Clarkson's life, buy up Lockwood's history, and start acting like you're still the town sweetheart,” Kennedy said, knocking back the glass of wine in one gulp.
So much for her being anti-drinking,Frances thought in a daze.
“I'm leaving,” Kennedy announced to the confused waiter. “She's paying.”
“Ma'am?”
She pushed past the waiter, leaving both him and Frances in total shock.
What actually just happened?
TWO
As she calmed down, Frances realized that it wasn't so much the jibe itself that hurt but the very fact that Kennedy had brought up her father at all...
The paper bag was heavy. Somehow, Kennedy had managed to order basically nothing in huge quantities, and since the joyless pizza was already cooked and the bottle Kennedy had ordered was already open, Frances had to pay before she could even consider leaving. Sixty dollars worth of food she didn't even want. She was honestly just glad they'd given her a doggy bag. They probably didn't want the other patrons being put off by whatever the frick happened back there.
Frances was, distressingly, used to comments about her father. The difference was she had become accustomed to other older men assuming and making jokes that her daddy must have run the company for her to have succeeded so fast or that he was still paying her bills. She wasn't used to character assassination on both of their behalf's from someone who had actually known them both.
Luckily Lucinda and Vince had headed out on a mission of some kind, leaving Alex there alone to start installing the accessible handrails Kennedy insisted upon in the customer bathroom.
They weren't a bad idea. In fact, Frances fully supported accessible access as the default setting, and she would have installed them anyway––but because Kennedy had been the one to dictate their requirement, she resented them.
Even though she knew it was a petty thing to feel.
“Alex?” she called. “Sad pizza and expensive wine is here.”
“What?” he asked, emerging from the bathroom.
She showed him the sad excuse for a pizza.
“Seriously? A thin-crust pizza with no cheese? A garlic-free tomato base and topped only with salad...no ranch?” Alex said, staring at the thing in disbelief.
“Seriously…” Frances said, “…I wonder if she even likes it or if she just wanted the chef to be forced to make her something custom.”
He shrugged and turned to head into the kitchen. “Come on, let's make this edible.”
“We don't have anything,” Frances said as she followed.
She was still brewing over the comment as she joined him in the kitchen when she noticed a mischievous smile on his face again.
“What?”
“You’ve always been ridiculously adorable when you're hacked off,” he said with a chuckle. “And yes, we do. A tester box of supplies arrived today, so we can try out some basics.”
Frances watched as Alex opened a large fridge that she hadn't seen before and fetched out several items, and placed them on the countertop next to the pizza in its soggy takeaway container. He seemed to be enjoying himself, picking up precooked bacon bits and shredded cheese and scrutinizing them.
“Yes, the arugula can go,” he said, turning to switch on a large oven that Frances realized she hadn't seen either.
“Where did all these appliances come from?” she asked.
Alex turned to look at her. “Well, half of them are left over from this place when it was a dessert train, the oven at least. Not sure about the fridge…that one looks new, actually. Maybe golden boy magicked it up from a sponsor.”
