Page 11 of The Hampton Beach Café 4
“That's horrible!” Kennedy exclaimed loudly as she sat down across the table from Frances.
Frances shrugged. She didn't want to underplay the seriousness of it—the glass was going to cost an arm and a leg to replace—but she also didn't want to make a bigger than necessary deal about it, especially in front of Kennedy.
“Yeah, it's not great…” she said, “…but I suppose that's part of being a business owner—dealing with vandalism. The new glass will be installed in a few days. Unfortunately, we can't get a glazier out sooner than that. Don't worry, though. The door is taped up and covered. There's no risk to the public.”
“I'm not worried about that! I'm worried about you!” Kennedy said.
Frances felt an odd stab of anger as she turned to look over at Kennedy sharply. Seriously?
Kennedy shifted in her seat a little as she unfolded the cloth napkin and placed it on her lap.
“Well, I am worried about that…” she said sheepishly, “…but I'm also worried about you…it's scary! You were in there!”
The recalcitrant look on Kennedy's face softened the angry response that had been brewing in her stomach, and Frances shook off the remaining negativity with a small smile.
“It was, actually,” she admitted. “I was mugged once, about ten years ago, in New York. This guy bumped into me and grabbed my bag. I actually thought he was falling and tried to grab his arm, but he shouted at me, wrenched it off my arm, and ran off. It was all over in about thirty seconds. I didn’t even realize what had happened. The aftermath of that was scary…but this was different. Like I knew something was wrong the second I heard the crack…you know what's weird? When I stepped into the front and saw the broken glass and the brick—that memory of being mugged popped up in my head. I haven’t thought about that day in years. It's like my brain knew something was wrong before the rest of me did…”
Good lord, what had made her say all of that out loud? And to Kennedy, of all people!?
She was staring at Frances across the table, her mouth slightly parted in surprise.
Oh no.
The tension on the table was palpable, and Frances clamped her lips shut and looked down at the menu to try and find something to say.
“I get that,” Kennedy said, surprising Frances with the softness in her tone.
She looked up and saw that Kennedy was staring wistfully out of the window.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Please…don't take offense to this, okay? Well, the day I saw you in the old gallery…I hadn't even seen your face and recognized you, but I didn't know who you were yet. Something about you annoyed me, and I felt like I did back in high school. When I saw who you were, all those feelings of thinking you knew about your dad and hating you…they all came flooding back.”
Well, that explains the utterly nasty exchange all those months ago,Frances realized.
“Oh…”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry?”
Kennedy was looking at her now. “Yeah, sorry for, you know, being the worst. Looking back, I really don't like the person I was in high school…and I’m sorry.”
Frances knew what she should do. She should tell her it's fine, no one was great in high school, everyone makes mistakes, and not to let childishness from a lifetime ago upset her. But she couldn't. Because while all of those things were actually true, Kennedy had been particularly nightmarish, and knowing that it was a conscious decision on her part did not make Frances feel any better.
Though, knowing that the person in front of her felt awful about it, recognized the dreadful behavior, and was actually saying so out loud, did make her feel better. Realizing that she had been silent for several moments now, she cleared her throat.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for apologizing. It…it really matters. And for the record, you're a lot better now than you were then…”
Kennedy sat across from Frances, holding the menu so tightly her knuckles were almost turning white.
“Are you ok?” Frances asked hesitantly.
Closing the menu with a snap, Kennedy placed an old, yellowing photograph on the table. She looked at the photo fondly before pushing it across the table to Frances.
“Frances, I want you to look at something for me,” Kennedy said, her voice filling with tight emotion.
Frances carefully placed her menu down and met Kennedy's gaze––she was definitely serious.
