Page 14 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
“You scared me! What are you doing here so early?” Frances asked, quickly wiping her eyes and trying to cover the fact that she had been in tears a few moments ago.
“I, uh, came to roll out and bake some croissants. I know they're popular, and I didn't want, you know, us not talking to be something the café suffers for,” Alex replied awkwardly. “And it's croissant day today…so, yeah.”
“Thanks, that's really kind of you. I had noticed the croissants…I didn't just think that they magically appeared. Just didn't realize you were coming by quite this early…or actually baking them here. I really should get the alarm fixed…” Frances said, grateful for the gesture but perturbed that she hadn’t noticed someone actually baking fifty croissants every few days in her kitchen.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I'd probably guess the code anyway...”
That just reminded her of all the drama with Clarkson. She really wanted to talk to Alex about it, but Frances knew that they needed to have a different conversation first.
“Hey, um, we really need to talk...”
“I'm not really ready to talk about what happened,” he said, his voice low. “But I'm not as angry as I was, and I want to apologize for giving you the cold shoulder recently. I know I haven't been the easiest person to deal with—or, not deal with, as the sneaking into your kitchen at four in the morning might suggest..”
Frances looked up at him, surprised. “Alex, you don't have to apologize. You're completely entitled to your feelings, and I understand why you were angry…I'm the one who needs to apologize and explain.”
“I know, and I do hope that I'll be able to hear your explanation soon…but I still feel like I might have overreacted at the time…and I should have been there for you when you needed me, instead of marching off and refusing to hear you out at all,” he said, his tone regretful.
It hurt to hear him talk about it, knowing that this wouldn't change anything right away. Still, Frances gave him a small smile.
“Obviously, I'd have liked that, but I don't blame you for needing your space.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound coming from the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Finally, Alex spoke up again.
“Hey, look, are you okay?” he asked, his eyes full of concern. “Really, you look like you've been crying...”
Frances sighed and shook her head. “No…Not really. But I'll be okay eventually. I just need some time to process everything—and to figure some stuff out.”
Alex nodded, understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Frances hesitated for a moment, trying to force herself to say no and that she was fine and she should let him bake, but instead, the full weight of the last few days came down on her. Tears splashed down her cheeks and onto her pajamas.
“Um…honestly? Yeah. I think I do…if that's actually okay?”
“Of course it is,” Alex said softly, moving slightly towards her and holding out a clean dishcloth for her to wipe her face on.
He pushed himself up onto the bench, patting the place beside him. Frances sat beside him, dishcloth in hand and tears still coming steadily, so they sat like that and talked. Alex listened patiently, offering comfort where he could. Frances told Alex about Hayley's encounter with Malcolm in Texas and how he had tried to pay her for information. In true Alex fashion, he was immediately angry and wanted to confront Malcolm right then and there, but Frances talked him out of it.
“Let me handle it, Alex. I don't know what he's up to, and honestly, right now, I don't care…there's so much more,” Frances said.
“We need to connect the dots and see if there's any pattern or person that ties it all together,” Alex said, hopping down off the bench and grabbing a large sheet of parcel paper from the shelf underneath the counter.
“What are you doing?” Frances asked as Alex spread the sheet out on the counter and grabbed some of the markers and put them next to the whiteboard.
“Let's write out a timeline of all the strange occurrences that have happened in our lives recently,” he said, “…the notes, the brick—”
“We know that the brick was Duncan,” Frances said, also jumping down from the counter. “He's insisted on working here for free until the damage is paid.”
“Oh,” Alex said. “Yeah, of course.”
He crossed out the word 'brick', and added 'non-Duncan authored nasty notes/comments' instead.
“And who else has made contact with you? There's Duncan and Martha—sorry, but it could still be them…Hayley too. It could be a double bluff...”
As they were writing, she realized that the sheer amount of hate comments she had been receiving was depressing.
“I have a list of over two hundred blocked accounts online. I don't think we can really track them all down...”
Alex shrugged. “I don't think we need to—they're the reaction, not the ignition point.”
