Page 2 of The Hampton Beach Café 4
“No! Really!” the woman exclaimed through tears. “I can't break your things and be given free cake…”
“Of course, you can,” Frances said. “Let's find you a seat.”
Helping the woman to her feet, she guided her through the crowd to a small table next to the counter—Maddy would have to wait. Glancing over her shoulder, Frances saw Vince picking up the final pieces and tucking them safely behind the bar before returning to the line of kids waiting to order their sugar explosion.
“You've done an amazing job here,” the woman said. “It's always so busy, and the food is delicious.”
Frances thanked her and smiled back, a warm feeling of pride in all the hard work she had put into making the café a success—coupled with what was probably an unhealthy dose of guilt over that pride. The woman sat down carefully in the chair Frances offered, then asked if Frances would be staying open over the winter. The question surprised Frances, but she was happy to be able to reply with a confident yes.
The woman beamed at her response and said, “That's great news! I'm so glad to see someone doing something great for both locals and tourists. Half the places around here board themselves up when the cold sets in—sometimes being a local feels like the short end of the stick.”
Frances felt a sense of accomplishment hearing the woman's kind words. She had always been dedicated to creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere that appealed to everyone. It was a challenge to balance the needs of both groups, but seeing the satisfaction on their faces was worth it.
“Keep up the great work. You've created something special here.”
She hadn’t received so much bold-faced flattery since her ex-husband’s golf buddy had tried to convince her to go to dinner with him, which had been a little unnerving.
“Well, thank you,” Frances said. “Let me get you a coffee.”
It was nice to be sure, but the nagging feeling of guilt over her plans to sell the café soured her mood as she tried to shake off the odd feeling.
TWO
The backyard of the property was still in a state—maybe even more so than when she had bought it because she had been entirely ignoring it while they renovated and launched the café on such short notice. However, sitting out there at night was still delightful after a long day. Alex had arrived later in the afternoon. That was the beauty of a business like his—it had a finite customer-to-jet ski ratio that could not be overbooked. With the next two weeks fully booked out, he only had to worry about cancelations and incidents, which—luckily for Frances—meant Alex could spend more time at the café.
“Hi, guys!” Hayley said as she popped a chair down next to Frances, Alex, Vince, and Lucinda. “Talk about busy, huh? It's like being behind the scenes at a fashion week show—less naked people and shouting, though.”
“Naked people?” Lucinda asked, sounding far more prudish than she really was. “Why are people naked?”
Hayley laughed. “Well, when there are three of you modeling twenty-four outfits, two people on the runway at a time, each walk takes fifteen seconds—you have fifteen seconds to get out of one dress and into another. Getting off the catwalk at a major show, there are usually two or three people there. Someone unsnaps, zips, and shimmies the thing off you while another person shoves the next one over your head.”
Lucinda looked aghast. “Somehow, I always imagined being a supermodel would be more glamorous than that…”
“Oh, I'm not a supermodel, but the behind-the-scenes shows are not glamorous at all,” Hayley said. “Fun, exciting, and thrilling—absolutely! It's kind of hard to feel glamorous when you've got someone rearranging you, lifting your foot up like a horse to change shoes, and another one dabbing a different lipstick over the top of the other three coats for a quick change.”
The two men in the group looked at each other with what looked like genuine fear on their faces, and Hayley laughed.
“That sounds hideous,” Lucinda said. “I'm glad I’m dumpy and plain.”
Frances started to protest—Lucinda was a knockout—but before she could open her mouth, Vincent started talking.
“Oh please, you are far too intelligent and self-aware to think you're anything less than a walking work of art.”
The pink blush creeping up under Lucinda's tanned skin was adorable—she was rarely speechless, as Frances well knew, and so seeing her retreat into a kind of shocked and flustered caricature was pure gold.
Hayley laughed again, nodding and pointing at Lucinda. “He's right, you know, you might not like the experience of modeling, but you'd absolutely kill it—especially in swimsuit and active.”
The blush deepened, and Frances turned to see what Vincent's reaction was, and her breath caught in her throat a little. No wonder Lucinda was blushing! His intense gaze was focused entirely on her. There was no chance Lucinda could doubt his sincerity—it was written plainly across his face. She made a mental note to talk to Lucinda about it tomorrow.
“Speaking of shows…” Hayley said, “…my booking next week has been canceled. It was international, so I'm not totally out of work—you've been this busy almost every day, and I happen to be a very experienced waitress. You know, being a model comes with being a lot of other things as well in the beginning. Do you think I could step in and give you a hand?”
Lucinda and Vince both looked at Frances. She tried to feel out the vibes they were sending her. It seemed positive, but would having yet another person to worry about be good for her? She was already so distracted, what, with the accusations Kennedy had brought to the table the last time they spoke and the general pressure of trying to run this business well…
“Yeah, sure,” Frances said, monitoring Lucinda's face to see if she'd read the vibe correctly.
“Amazing, thank you! Whenever you need me, I'll be here, and maybe you can take a day off…” Hayley said with a wink.
Smiling as she saw Lucinda wink at her as well, she realized that this had been a setup all along.
