Page 9 of The Hampton Beach Café 2
Seated in the big wingback armchair, paperwork fanned out before her, Frances peered up at her friend. Alex was outside already, checking something to do with the truck. She smiled at Lucinda. She'd been in a really good mood since their trip––unlike Frances.
“No, I don't mind. Choose whatever you want––just not too pasta heavy. I'm not feeling like heavy or rich…” she said, pausing before adding, “…and not too cheesy, or with a cream sauce. Not burgers either...actually, not beef at all. Oh, and no fish, too strong.”
Lucinda smirked. “So, anything except for pasta, cheese, cream, fish, or beef?”
Frances prickled. Why ask her what she wanted if saying what she wanted was the wrong thing to do?
“Exactly, so something chicken, pork, lamb, vegetarian…” she said pointedly, “…or soup, pizza, burritos, or…”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Lucinda said, waving her hands in surrender. “We won’t be long. Alex needs to stop by the jet skis to check up on how his mini-Alex is doing.”
“You mean Luca?” Frances asked, thinking of the skinny young guy she'd seen the day she went to ask Alex how he felt about her buying his old parents' property.
The kid was as tall as Alex but surely couldn't be older than seventeen. A head of thick blond hair and a strong Italian accent set him distinctly apart from Alex.
Laughing, Lucinda nodded.
“Luca Romano––came here for a foreign exchange program three years ago and fell in love with Felicity Carver's daughter,” she explained. “They got married last year, and he started working for Alex around the same time––he's determined to be an entrepreneurial success story. Follows Alex around like a puppy, does everything he says, even dresses like him.”
Her mind flashed back to that day on the beach. She had only seen Luca briefly then, but as she thought about it and the few other fleeting conversations they'd had since then, sure enough––plaid shirt for cold mornings, button downs for evening meals, and shirtless on the beach.
She blushed at the memory of Alex on the beach running towards her with a distinct lack of a shirt.
“How do you know Felicity Carver?” she asked, dipping her attention back to her paperwork.
“Because while you retreat into stress, I talk to Alex and learn stuff about you.”
Oh...just wonderful,Frances thought.
Before she could respond, Lucinda had slipped out of the door and waved goodbye. Frances shook her head. She really needed to pay more attention to what they were talking about in the kitchen. The last thing she needed was Lucinda and Alex teaming up on her. She waved as they drove off. A strange feeling welled in her stomach––why did she feel left out? They'd asked her earlier if she had wanted to go along...
“Hey,” a deep voice sounded from the gallery side of the room.
A small shriek escaped her, and she jostled her papers to the floor as she stood in alarm.
“Whoa, it's just me,” Clarkson said, stepping forward quickly.
“How!” she shouted. She had meant to say something more like 'how did you get in here' or 'why are you here' but her thumping heart and electrified nerves got the better of her.
He crossed the room slowly, his hands up in front of him.
“I'm so sorry,” he said, “I found a key hanging on a hook outside the garden door and wanted to check and see if it actually opened it––it did. You should get the locks changed.”
Deep breaths, in and out. She followed the breathing plan and stared at him as he got closer.
“Yes, I should,” she said. “I'm sorry I yelled.”
Clarkson shook his head. “It's fine––I'd shout if some wild property king appeared without warning in my home too.”
The anxious twisting in her stomach was abating, and Frances found that she was laughing. He did have the strangest sense of humor. A high-pitched ping drew her attention to the stack of papers on the table. Shuffling them to the side, she saw her phone. The screen was lit up, and a pulsing message notification sat on the screen.
'Hayley has accepted your friend request––Say Hi!'
Clarkson stepped closer. “You ok?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, reaching for the phone. “I sent an old friend a request on social media a few days ago, I forgot about it, but she's accepted...I don't really do social media.”
His low chuckle was deep, and Frances liked how often he laughed. She smiled back at him, remembering that he was a social media star these days. For some reason, though, she felt like he didn't want her to know, so rather than saying what was on her mind, she tapped out a message to Hayley––trying not to look too closely at the intimidating profile picture.
