Page 13 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
Hayley took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye.
“Okay. You know that I saw Malcolm in Texas,” she said quietly. “It wasn't quite so simple and hands-off as I told you before. He asked me about you—your life, where you were, what you were doing.”
“He asked you for information about me?” Frances asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
As Hayley recounted her interaction with Malcolm in Texas, Frances could feel her heart racing faster and faster.
“Basically, I recognized him—like I told you, thought he was a dog being there with some other woman…” she said, “…but then we got introduced and it was awkward, and you know me—I couldn’t help myself. So I said something about, 'oh we haven’t met but I was good friends with his wife', the woman he was with didn't like that much, but he patted her on the arm and hushed her. Later in the night, he approached me again, alone. He asked if I could tell him anything about you…where you were, if you were seeing anyone…then he offered me money, Frances. He said he just wanted to know where you were and what you were doing—if you were safe, and he was willing to pay me for it. Can you believe that? He was willing to pay me to spy on you,” she shook her head in disbelief.
“Pay you…money, to tell him where I was, and what I was doing?” Frances spoke slowly, her tongue felt heavy, and she swallowed hard as she finished her sentence, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat.
Hayley nodded, looking down at her hands in her lap before looking up sharply at Frances.
“I said no, obviously,” Hayley interjected. “Immediately…I said no. I didn't want to tell you about it at first because I wasn't sure if it was important. Ex-husbands are known to do weird stuff, act like children with their toys taken away, and I figured he was just being a jerk. But now, with everything that's happening with the café, and him showing up here, I thought you should know.”
Frances let out a deep sigh, not quite of relief, but it did do something to ease the feeling of dread that felt like it was gathering ominously around her. She took a long sip from her gin and tonic, the bite of the lemon slice on the rim helping her find her words.
“Thank you, Hayley. Thank you for not giving him anything. I don't know what he's up to, but I don't want anything to do with him.”
Hayley reached across the table and took Frances’ hand. “I'm sorry, Frances. I had no idea he would even be there, let alone that he would ask me about you. I thought I was just going to embarrass him in front of his date. I would never have brought you into it if I had known about the divorce...”
Frances squeezed Hayley's hand, grateful for her friend's concern.
“It's okay, Hayley. You didn't know. And thank you for telling me about it…I needed to know. I wish you had told me before but...”
Hayley wriggled in her seat and stirred her drink with the straw, “…the weirder bit is next.”
Her stomach twisted. What more could be weirder than asking a total stranger to spy on your ex-wife for money.
“I was at another event a few days later, and he approached me again,” she explained. “And I thought he was going to push me to accept his offer.”
Frances took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Did he say why he wanted to know?”
“He said it didn't matter anymore and to forget about it,” Hayley replied, shaking her head. “He said it wasn't any of his business what you got up to and your life in Hampton Beach was your own, but it was such a weird one-eighty. I think he got someone else to act as a spy—someone who knows you and your life here—because when we first talked, he didn't know where you were.”
Frances felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
“Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Hayley shrugged. “I wish I did.”
Frances took a sip of her drink, her mind racing. It was bad enough that Malcolm had divorced her so maliciously and crawled back in just as things had started to get back on track, but getting someone to spy on her?
“We'll figure it out,” she said, more to convince herself than Hayley. “We have to.”
NINE
Getting up early had become her daily habit for months now, but after her ridiculous day yesterday and the drink with Hayley, she had struggled to get any sleep at all. Now, it was just before four in the morning, and she'd given up hope of getting any rest.
As she walked down the stairs, she avoided flicking the main light on as she didn't want to confuse any of the tourists who might be stumbling home after some of the end of season parties that were starting to happen up and down the coast. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. The end of the season meant the end of summer. She was supposed to be selling the café and heading back to LA for winter—to start her life back up again. Even if it had all gone to plan, even if Clarkson hadn't turned out to be the actual worst person she'd ever met, even if she'd been getting the million dollar offers totally legit and above board—she would still be in pieces about what to do.
She loved what she had created here with Lucinda and Vince…and Alex.
Her heart twinged at the thought of him, and she felt hot tears well up and fall on her cheeks. The thought of her and Alex was all too much on top of everything that had happened in the last few days.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs. What was that noise? There it was again—a door closing! Frances cocked her head in the direction that she had heard the noise. It was coming from inside the kitchen. Considering how many intruders, bricks, and nasty notes she had found, Frances scolded herself for being so careless even as she went to investigate.
The kitchen door swung open as she pushed on it hard, revealing a surprised looking and puffy-eyed Alex holding a huge plastic container covered with plastic wrap.
