Page 7 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
“Frances, Lucinda, meet my grandson, Duncan,” Martha said with a warm smile. “Duncan, these are the ladies I was telling you about.”
She gestured to the young man beside her. Duncan looked sheepish as he greeted them.
“I'm sorry for what I did, Frances. You too, Lucinda. I thought you were in on it with Clarkson—not that even if you were, it would really be an excuse for, ya know, the brick. I was wrong and stupid, and I apologize.”
Frances nodded. She had not been expecting him to be here at all but would take his apology as it really did seem sincere.
“Thank you for being honest, Duncan. We appreciate it.”
The unlikely pair sat down in their seats. Martha in her knit cardigan and Duncan in a hooded sweatshirt with a person Frances could only assume was a musician but had never heard of before.
“I want to make it right. I'll work off the damage, I swear. I can do repairs or anything you need,” Duncan quickly added.
Raising her eyebrows, Frances looked at him, surprised by his offer.
“That's very kind of you, Duncan. We could certainly use the help around here. But you don't have to do that. You do know we're not pressing charges against you, right?”
He nodded fervently. “I do know that, and seriously thank you so much. But I still want to help out. I know I messed up and I want to make it right.”
Frances and Lucinda looked at each other and silently weighed up their response to Duncan's offer.
Frances spoke up. “What do you think, Lucinda? Should we let him work it off?”
Lucinda thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. “I think it's a good idea. He seems genuinely sorry and it could be helpful to have some extra hands around the café.”
Looking over at Martha and Duncan, both their faces alight with relief.
“I accept your offer, Duncan,” Frances said, looking at him directly. “I believe in forgiveness, and second chances, but there’s also a place for restitution and the fact that you’ve offered it…I think that it’s an excellent way to start putting your life on track. Let's start by having you come in tomorrow and we'll figure out what needs to be done.”
Martha couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Oh, thank you! I'm so chuffed that you girls are giving him a chance. He's a good kid, just got mixed up with the wrong crowd, didn’t you, dear?”
Duncan shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Nanna, don’t.”
“Oh, he’s a love, really,” Martha said, smiling.
The look that passed from Duncan to his grandmother warmed her heart, and Frances let them have their moment before clearing her throat.
“We have been thinking about your situation, and ours. Clarkson needs to be held accountable for his actions, and we think we could help in planning and building a civil suit against him. Maybe even explore criminal liability..”
Martha's eyes lit up with approval. “That's a great idea. I'm fully supportive of it. He deserves to face the consequences of his actions.”
Duncan nodded in agreement. “I'll do whatever I can to help. I want to make things right too, and I promise no matter what—no bricks. Unless you ask me to, of course.”
Frances, Lucinda, Martha, and Duncan paused momentarily as the joke fumbled the landing. His cheeky grin let Frances know that he was actually joking, and she was the first to let herself laugh. The others followed suit.
The waiter arrived and they placed their orders for lunch. The conversation flowed freely as they spent the rest of the meal discussing their plan of action. Leaving the meal, Frances left like they could succeed in exposing Clarkson's illegal activities and seek justice for Martha and all the others who had been victims of his scams. It had been a good day—Martha had promised to get them a list of some people she had found online, and Duncan said he would see them the next day for coffee shop duty.
The walk home from the restaurant was quiet as both Frances and Lucinda found themselves in their own worlds. Every now and then, Frances would glance over at her friend and find that she was staring out at sea as they walked. Each time this triggered an odd point of tension in Frances. She wanted to spark a conversation about it but somehow she knew it wasn’t the right time.
Despite them having just had lunch, when they reached the point of their walk home where they would normally have to cross the road and turn their backs on the shore, Frances got an idea. She paused and gestured to the bench that three teenagers in swimsuits had just abandoned.
“Coffee on the beach?” Frances asked.
Lucinda looked from Frances, to the bench, to the little mobile coffee cart that had parked up strategically central to the seating that lined this section of the foreshore.
“We own a coffee shop and you want to buy coffee out?”
Always the businesswoman,Frances thought smiling.
