Page 7 of The Hampton Beach Café 4
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Just dropping by my favorite business partner,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Alright, you don't have to copy the loudest person in the room,” Frances teased, gesturing to Lauren as she gesticulated wildly.
Clarkson scoffed. “Her? Yeah, she's loud, alright. Besides, you are my favorite business partner. I came to tell you that Maddy was thrilled with her selection here. She told me to tell you that even if she hadn't met and liked you at that party, she'd be writing a glowing review anyway.”
That felt strange, Frances realized. Surely a food critic of Madeline's caliber should be writing honest reviews regardless of meeting and liking people? Maybe she was being naïve.
“Oh, good…”
“Yes, anyway, I must be off,” Clarkson said. “You know me, always something to do.”
He waved goodbye to them as he stepped out of the door, and Frances joined Lauren in the gallery.
“Yes, I've had four people interested in pieces,” she said. “They're my favorites, so they got first pick. I would love a coffee if that's not too much trouble?”
She said this like she was at a friend's house, not a coffee shop selling the exact thing she was asking for. Frances prickled. She knew what the woman was really saying. However, she had to admit that losing a few bucks on a coffee was nothing in the grand scheme of four large pieces being sold from the gallery.
“Sure,” Frances said tightly. “What would you like?”
“Something tall, strong, and hot,” she said with a suggestive wink at Vincent. “That's how I like it.”
Frances felt herself stiffen at the exchange, but Lucinda didn't seem to react at all, so she simply smiled awkwardly.
“Okay…so not a latte or anything, just black coffee?”
“Oh, no, I'll have steamed milk,” Lauren clarified, smiling a broad grin.
Frances turned and went to make the gallery agent an extra-large latte. Alex stepped out and met her halfway on her way to the machine.
“Why do I feel like that woman might eat us all for breakfast?” he asked in a low voice.
“Because she's a snake in a Fendi trench coat,” Frances replied, making him laugh.
“Well, there is that,” he said through his repressed laughter.
They worked together to make the coffee. Alex pulled out a tall glass and preheated it while Frances took care of the actual coffee shot and milk. She was always amazed at how well they worked together behind the bar or in the kitchen. She had endured many awkward cooking sessions with kitchen staff hired to help with charity events or parties in LA.
By the time they had whipped up the drink for Lauren, she'd finished in the gallery and was making her way over.
“Let's talk,” she said to Frances, gesturing to the corner table.
“Sure,” she said, glancing at Alex with a pleading look.
He nodded and turned to make her a coffee of her own.
“Now, I'd like to know a little more about you.”
“Me?”
“You.”
Lauren let the silence drag on until Frances felt almost physical pressure to speak—but she won. Lauren continued.
“Tell me why you're here? Why this café? Why a gallery? How are you funding this place? I mean, it seems busy enough, but…”
Frances raised her eyebrows. This woman might just be the cheekiest piece on the planet.
