Page 8 of The Hampton Beach Café 5
A new voice interrupted them. Turning to see who it was, Frances realized it wasn't new––she was just showing off.
Lauren Daniels stood in front of the counter.
“I thought I spied you,” she said loudly, “come on now, you're late for a meeting with me.”
“Are we?” Frances said stiffly as she air-kissed both cheeks.
“No, but I'm here now!”
Oh, yay,Frances thought as she replaced a tiny version of the chihuahua on the shelf next to its life-sized companion.
Alex shot her an odd half-smile as they exited the store with Lauren Daniels. Was he ok?
“So…” Lauren said, closing the door and waving at the older owner through the glass, “…if I commissioned a piece or six, do you think Vincent would consent to an opening at the café? I’ll bring down some clients and we can make a party of it.”
“Six?” Alex said appreciatively.
“You’d have to talk to Vin about that,” Frances said. “I wouldn’t dream of committing him to that amount of work without discussing it with him.”
“Of course, but the party?”
She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something off about the way Lauren insisted on things that made her feel less than comfortable.
“We don’t really have a lot of room,” she tried.
“But you had that delightfully quaint Fourth of July party where I discovered you!”
Discovered, huh?
“Yes, but that was fairly casual. A gallery opening would be something else entirely,” Frances continued, “and if you’re commissioning six pieces, I can’t imagine you’d bring any fewer than five potential clients per piece. You like to create a competitive atmosphere, right?”
Lauren beamed and winked at her. “I do, darling. You’re so right. My preference would be a six-to-one total ratio with three people for each that I consider to be real contenders. Of course, they all think they’re the real contenders! Maybe we could start a bidding war…”
As she answered, she reached out and lightly pinched Frances on the shoulder, the way you would do to a baby’s cheeks.
Frances smiled awkwardly. What was this woman like!? Well, she could play games too.
“Well, it would depend on a few things––primarily if Vin feels comfortable with so many commissions at one time. He has a number of private commissions right now, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm the artist––you understand that, right?”
“Oh, yes,” Lauren said, “totally. Maybe we should talk pricing structure––my price per piece guaranteed, then split anything higher than that in an auction equally between you and Vincent, and me equally?”
Lauren’s grin barely moved when she spoke and it made Frances think of a ventriloquist act she booked for a charity event years ago––it was still unsettling. The repeated use of the word equally also ruffled something in her analytical mind. Not only did it feel disingenuous, it felt accidental.
“You mean a three-way even split, right?” she asked. “Not fifty-fifty, then Vin and I split the fifty?”
“Oh, you caught me! You’re so clever, dear,” Lauren said, linking arms with Frances and powering ahead of Alex. “Agreed, now, tell me a little bit more about you and how you’re liking Hampton Beach?”
Glancing over her shoulder at Alex, Frances did her best to convey how desperately she didn’t want to stroll back and be interrogated by this overbearing, self-important art dealer.
He knew, but he also thought it was funny, Frances realized as he silently laughed at her quandary.
FIVE
They swooped into the café with Lauren still chattering about the various wonderful people she would bring to the auction that she had already half-planned, apparently.
This ruffled Frances even more than her deliberate attempt at tricking her with the so-called equal split of the profits.
“Frances, over here,” Clarkson said, waving from the corner.
