Page 1 of The Hampton Beach Café 5
ONE
Frances would never have thought that the words, “I haven't looked”, could cause so much angry shouting––and yet there they were, sitting in Café Bruno, being shouted at by Kennedy.
That part, the shouting, was less surprising. Kennedy had never been exactly calm.
Frances sat nervously on the edge of the wingback she favored as Kennedy paced back and forth in front of her. She would like to say that she had always known that this conversation was going to be difficult, but if she was totally honest––she hadn't really thought that far ahead.
“So, let me get this straight,” Kennedy said, her voice trembling angrily. “You lure me here, concoct some ridiculous taste test to get me to stick a cotton swab in my mouth, steal a sample of my DNA, illegally run a test, drive all the way to Boston because you just couldn't wait for them to post it to you––and you haven't even looked at the results yet?”
Frances nodded, unable to meet Kennedy's gaze. “I know it was wrong! Trust me, I know, but I just couldn't stand not knowing––I needed to know and I acted without really thinking it through and then... Then I got scared. I couldn't bring myself to do it.”
Kennedy shook her head and turned away. Frances could see Vincent in the back of the gallery. He had put his headphones on and was busily rearranging the new pieces he had for sale. He was really taking his 'this is none of my business' stance seriously.
By some miracle, Lucinda had managed not to say anything at all but instead stood almost frozen to the spot and took it all in. Alex approached her then, tapped her on the shoulder, and handed her a cup of coffee.
It was early, after all, and even if they had all been fully awake and prepared for this particular conversation to take place, they'd have needed coffee.
“Thanks,” Lucinda said absently, taking the coffee but not taking her eyes off Frances for even a second.
“Go and get it,” Kennedy said coolly. “I want to see it, right now.”
Frances looked over at Alex. She had given the envelope to him for safekeeping. She had been a little worried that she would destroy it in a fit of remorse––and the test had not been cheap.
“Sure,” Alex said, correctly interpreting the look Frances gave him. “Luce, come on, let's give them some space.”
Lucinda clearly did not want to leave, but after a pleading look from Frances, she turned and followed Alex into the kitchen.
“He's got it?” Kennedy asked. “He knows?”
“No,” Frances said quickly. “He wouldn't have looked. I just needed someone other than me to have it.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Kennedy sat across from Frances at the table and quiet descended on them.
This had never been the plan––any of it. Frances picked up the paper napkin she had been obsessively folding and tried to count her breaths as she heard Alex fussing in the kitchen––he must have hidden it well.
She had come to Hampton Beach for a getaway––just one weekend! All to try and feel better about the nasty, cruel, and long-distance way Malcolm had served her with divorce papers. How had she ended up the owner of a Café and gallery, stealing DNA and questioning everything she had ever known about her father?
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I know you don't believe me... but I am.”
Kennedy looked up at her sharply, and her expression made Frances wince involuntarily.
Silently, Alex approached the table and placed the envelope down. Frances could tell he wanted to say something but was glad he thought better of it. She watched as he went and tapped Vincent on the shoulder, who followed him into the kitchen, where she was sure Lucinda was straining to listen in.
Frances and Kennedy sat across from each other at the small café table, their eyes fixed on the envelope that lay between them. It had been a tense morning already, and now silent animosity hung heavy in the air.
Frances could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her stomach twisted as she took a deep breath, reaching for the envelope. Kennedy's hand was already there, and their fingers brushed against each other as they both took hold of it.
“Are you ready?” Kennedy asked, her voice surprisingly calm and soft.
Looking up from the envelope to see Kennedy's tortured expression and tear-filled eyes, Frances nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she fumbled to open the envelope.
She tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper inside, her eyes scanning the words quickly.
Kennedy leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the page. “Well?”
Frances hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she tried to find the right words.
“It's... positive, I guess. I mean... it says we are. That we're related,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Paternally, at least.”
