Page 1 of The Hampton Beach Café 3
ONE
With the last quarter piled neatly on top of its little stack, Frances gently closed the draw of the vintage cash register.
She knew it was a bit kitsch, but when Vincent had shown up with it under his arm after attending a flea market down the coast––and with a schoolboy grin on his face––she couldn't help but agree to its new home on the built-in wooden counter at Café Bruno.
The eponymous hound sat on a shelf overlooking the counter. She had wanted him next to the register but Lucinda––always thinking of the strangest and yet most useful things––had pointed out that it might not be a great idea to have him within grabbing distance of children's grabby hands.
Frances didn't like to think negatively––about kids in particular––but Bruno was a cherished childhood heirloom and was already vintage when she got him. She'd never forgive herself if the gorgeous thing survived forty-plus years until it met her!
Sighing as she heard the quarters tip over in the draw––it was a nightly game these days to try and stack the till float perfectly for the morning––Frances double-checked the locked front door and headed upstairs.
"So…" Lucinda said, stepping out of the bathroom they shared and making Frances jump, "…how'd we do today?"
"Don't walk around in the dark! I swear one of these days I'll flight or fight you right down the stairs!" Frances scolded, pressing a hand to her chest.
"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?"
