On Any Given Sundae

by Marilyn Brant

  “U-Uncle S-Siegfried!” Elizabeth said in the loudest voice he’d ever heard her use.

  “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I love you, too, Liebling.”

  “Bye, Roberto!”

  And then their crafty old uncles hung up on them.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Elizabeth whispered.

  His sentiments exactly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rob decided, from that moment forward, he wasn’t going to let anything throw him.

  He spent the next week making vows:

  He’d deal with life in Wilmington Bay for as long as he had to, knowing he’d get to leave as soon as the two uncles returned. But, in the meantime, he’d…

  Relax.

  Be positive.

  Enjoy what there was to enjoy.

  And try to keep his emotions on an even keel with Elizabeth. Just because they had a little more time together than he’d thought, it didn’t mean the expected end wasn’t going to happen. And so, he’d just have to find a way to liven up the summer a little more. Distract them both a bit.

  “Another customer headed up the walk,” Jacques said, still using his frosty voice more often than not.

  “I’ll get this one,” Rob told him. “Why don’t you take a break from the counter and finish up the stuff you were doing in the backroom with the lemon bars?”

  The Frenchman muttered his agreement in a way that was not exactly rude, but not exactly warm and fuzzy either.

  Rob missed the easy camaraderie he and the other man had shared prior to him and Elizabeth going public with their relationship. Now there was always something in the air between him and Jacques. If Elizabeth hadn’t said she considered Jacques simply a good friend, he’d have thought there’d been some kind of romantic history between them.

  “Hi, Rob,” one of the regulars said. “Can I get a scoop of Vanilla Fudge Almond and one of Raspberry Burst in a waffle cone please?”

  “Coming right up,” Rob told the guy. “Want a topping today? We’ve got nuts, sprinkles, chocolate chips, crushed cookies…you name it.”

  “Got any chocolate-covered raisins?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t carry that one, but it sounds like it’d be good.”

  The man nodded vigorously. “Oh, it’s the best. How about candy cane slivers? My wife loves that.”

  He shook his head again. Man, by comparison, their in-house toppings were starting to sound kind of boring. “Sorry, but you’re giving me a lot of good ideas.”

  “What about those candy-coated sugar rocks that jump and pop around like fireworks in your mouth?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Ah, I’ll just take my cone plain today,” the guy said. “Maybe you’ll have some different selections soon and I’ll give those a whirl.”

  As the customer paid, the spark of an idea began to take form in Rob’s mind. A way to add some needed excitement to the coming week.

  “Do you think,” he asked the man, “that other people in town would be interested in being creative with their toppings, too? That some of them have other unusual favorites?”

  “Heck, yeah. You should meet my sister Leah. She puts caramel apple slices on her ice cream. And her husband Cal likes—and I’m serious about this—toasted blueberry waffles, cut up into cubes, sprinkled on top of his ice-cream bowl like croutons.”

  Rob nodded. “Weird.”

  “No kidding, but it ain’t bad tasting either.”

  “You think if we asked the good people of Wilmington Bay to bring in a sample of their favorite ice cream toppings, they’d do it?”

  “Oh, absolutely.” The guy licked his cone and waved farewell. “Sounds like good fun.”

  “Hmm,” he said as he watched the man leave. Fourth of July was coming up in a few days. People were always milling around the shop. This might give them something new to talk about. Kind of like a Treat Swap for the community.

  He pulled out a huge piece of tag board from the storage closet and grabbed a few markers. He stared at it and tried to think of the best way to advertise the event. He was still staring when a couple of teen girls came into the shop.

  “Either of you any good at drawing?” he asked them.

  The tall blue-eyed one pointed at the short brown-eyed one. “She’s awesome.”

  He told them what he wanted to convey and handed the art supplies over to them. “You each get a fudge brownie and a double-dip ice cream cone on the house if you can figure out how to make this sign look good.”

  The girls hooted their delight and set to work.

  Ten minutes later, some high school guys showed up.

  “Hey, what’re they doing?” one of them asked Rob, pointing to the teen artists, deep in concentration.

  He told them.

  “Got anything else you need done?” another boy asked. “Fliers, maybe?”

  “I’ve got a killer graphics system on my computer,” the third boy said.

  Rob grinned at the young entrepreneurs, gave them the event information and a free ice cream sandwich each. “You get another one when you come back with the fliers.”

  “We could distribute them, too, if you want,” the first kid said eagerly.

  “I want,” Rob told them. “Just name your sweet reward when you’re done.”

  “All right!” the boys said, racing out of the shop. “This is way cool.”

  “Yes, it is,” Rob said. Then, over his shoulder to a slightly scowling Jacques, “Don’t you think so?”

  Jacques bowed his head. “I do think so,” he said, his voice no longer icy, just kind of defeated. “But I’m not sure Elizabeth is going to agree.”

  Oh, yeah. Elizabeth.

  ***

  “What were you thinking?” Elizabeth said to Rob “Mr. Big Idea” Gabinarri. “I thought we w-went over this before. There’s a limit to the number of people we’re legally allowed to have in the shop.”

  He looked at her with the exuberant, unapologetic gaze of a religious revivalist. “So, we’ll have the First Annual Tutti-Frutti Topping Taste Test outside at the park. There’s no limit to the number of people who can hang out there.”

  “Exactly. There are no parameters for control either. Not everyone is g-going to be there for the right reasons, Rob. Some people just crave chaos and will want to create it—at our expense. The Wilmington Bay police force doesn’t have the budget, the manpower or the time to have a security team on hand for events like these.”

  “Relax, Elizabeth. You’re overreacting. It’ll be pure fun with no worries.” He grinned at her and pulled her to him, giving her the kind of kiss that always made her unable to speak for a solid minute afterward. “You sure have a suspicious nature, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I guess I do. It—it’s just—quiet people like me watch other people a lot. We see what they do. And, sure, there are lots of really great, really respectful Wilmington Bay citizens out there, no doubt. But I’ve also seen what lengths some people will go to in order to get attention.” She shuddered. “Plus, I hate crowds.”

  She knew he didn’t believe there would be any problems with his Topping Taste Test, but jovial guys like Rob rarely took the time to look at the social undercurrents created by the events they hosted. They were too busy flitting around, laughing about things, chatting as though their words might stop flowing if they ceased talking for two whole minutes. They must be attuned to a completely different set of nonverbal messages than the ones she focused on. Which wasn’t to say hers were right and his were wrong.

  Not exactly.

  But they sure were dissimilar, and she wished she could get him to open his eyes to what lay beneath the surface of a supposedly “pure fun” social gathering.

  Unfortunately, it was too late now to do anything to stop it. Colorful fliers advertising the event were tacked up all over town, and a big poster hung in the window of the shop. She’d just have to deal with it.

  “No one’s going to try anything out of hand at this event,” he said, runnin
g his fingers through her hair and nibbling a little at her neck. She lost her train of thought and didn’t bother to try to argue with him further.

  The doors jangled as someone entered.

  “Gabinarri,” Lance Burk’s distinctive sneering voice said loudly. “I see you’re still in town—” he shot Elizabeth a disgusted look, “and still fooling around. As always. Why haven’t you packed up your last-year’s-model sports car and headed back to Chicago? Could it be there’s not much left to return to?”

  “You’re full of it, Burk” Rob said. “As always.”

  But she couldn’t help but notice the way Rob pulled away from her then, completely severing their physical connection in Lance’s presence. Was Rob ashamed to be seen with her in front of his old high-school rival? In front of the guy who was now dating the ever-popular and pretty Tara Welles? Elizabeth clenched her fists and began cleaning up serving utensils.

  “Know what I think?” Lance said.

  “Nope, and I don’t want to,” Rob replied.

  Lance ignored him. “I think things at your little food place went to crap and now you’re up here mooching off of your family.” He held up one of the Topping Taste Test fliers. “I mean, jeez, what the hell is this? If you handled your diner the way you’re handling this shop, it’s no wonder you went bankrupt.”

  Rob’s jaw grew taut. “First of all, since you seem unable to remember it, I’ll have to spell it out. The Playbook is not a D-I-N-E-R. It’s a R-E-S-T-A-U-R-A-N-T. Second, I did not go bankrupt. I’m just up here helping out for a while. The Playbook is well cared for and going strong back in Chicago, thank you.” He glared at the other guy and said through gritted teeth, “Now, do you have an order or were you just leaving?”

  Lance laughed. “You’re losing your touch, Gabinarri. Not so hot now, are you? Where did the Wilmington Bay Golden Boy go?” The coward strode out before Rob could answer him.

  “I hate that guy,” he said.

  “He hasn’t changed since high school,” she said, trying to make him feel better. “He’s still the same dumb jock he always was, only now he’s also meaner and more desperate. He doesn’t think he’s going to have many more chances to ride high on the image he worked so hard to project when we were in school. Time’s running out for him to hit it big, and you represent everything he’s not, so he has it in for you. That’s all.”

  Rob gave her a long, befuddled stare, and she knew she’d said too much. That he’d think she was more of a geek than ever now, spouting off psychobabble that way.

  But then he hugged her, and she was no longer so sure what he thought. Although, when he walked out of the room a few minutes later, she could’ve sworn she heard him mutter, “The same dumb jock…” under his breath. But she could’ve been wrong about that, too. She just didn’t know anything anymore.

  ***

  The jugglers were back in town.

  They came in Monday morning while Rob struggled to get the tubs of ice cream packed into a portable freezer to take to the park. It was a much more complicated task than he’d expected, and he wished to heaven he had some juggling skills of his own right about then.

  “Hi, guys,” he told them, taking a moment to shake their hands and welcome them warmly. “Good to see you both again. What can I get for you?”

  “Saw your signs for the Topping Taste Test,” the taller of the two said. “Are you in need of any entertainment?”

  “You two have some free time? On the Fourth of July? Man, this must be my lucky day.”

  “We’ve got a gig tonight,” the other guy said. “But we did all our daytime gigs over the weekend. It’s great when the Fourth falls on a Monday.”

  “Hey, if you’re willing to be there, I’m more than willing to accept the offer,” he said. “You two were probably the biggest hit Tutti-Frutti has had in forty years. We’d be honored for you to be part of the event.”

  “Are the terms the same?” the tall juggler asked with a grin.

  Rob laughed. “Oh, you’ll get all the free pastries, candy or ice cream you can eat, all right, with whatever toppings tickle your fancy. But I’ll also throw in a monetary bonus on the side this time, too, for every hour you’re out there. You both deserve it.”

  And damned if those jugglers didn’t help him figure out how to pack up that freezer in under five minutes.

  When they arrived at Wilmington Bay’s Town Park, Jacques and Gretchen had already managed to set up the majority of the decorations. The picnic tables were covered with patriotic-themed tablecloths, there were red, white and blue carnation centerpieces (courtesy of their florist pal, who was a regular customer) and the voting sheets for “Best Topping” were stacked neatly next to a tin of miniature pencils and a giant ballot box.

  “Looking good, you guys,” he told his coworkers, parking the portable freezer next to the head table. He handed the container filled with ice-cream-shaped beanbags to the jugglers, who immediately flipped on their music and began practicing. “Where are Nick and Elizabeth?”

  “Nick’s picking up the plastic bowls and spoons,” Gretchen explained. “And Elizabeth wanted to bring in some helium balloons for the kids.”

  He smiled. That sounded like her.

  The music and the flying beanies were already drawing a crowd, despite the fact that the Topping Taste Test wasn’t set to begin for a half hour. Rob’s palms itched with excitement. This was going to be a wild day.

  Thirty minutes later, he amended this thought: It was going to be a very wild and wacky and probably totally out-of-control day. And Elizabeth wasn’t pleased.

  “I still don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by doing this,” she hissed at him as citizens of Wilmington Bay reveled in the loud rhythmic music and prepared to show and tell their favorite toppings.

  He gently stroked her smooth shoulder, trying for the reassurance pat. “This’ll bring in business.” He pulled out a cordless microphone to do the announcing and watched as her complexion turned almost as green as her eyes.

  “T-Tutti-F-Frutti was already a s-s-successful shop. N-Not that I don’t think it’s great th-that you’re taking such an interest in im-improving it but, c’mon, Rob. C-Couldn’t you have aimed f-for something l-lower k-key?”

  Her stuttering was back full force with him after weeks of nearly perfect speech. He tried to catch her eye, but she was staring at the mike as if it might jump out of his hand and bite her. He hid it behind his back and made her continue.

  “T-This is more like spring b-break in Fort Lauderdale than Fourth of July in W-W-Wisconsin.”

  He glanced around. Sure enough, there were women in bikini tops wiggling every part of their bodies to the hip-hop beat, men flinging Frisbees back and forth, open coolers, kids and dogs running rampant…and Tara Welles snaking toward them through the crowd, dressed in a skimpy red top and cutoff jeans. Hell, maybe Elizabeth had a point after all. This may not have been the best idea.

  “I’ve g-got to g-go,” Elizabeth told him, even though she hadn’t seen Tara yet. “I n-need to finish s-setting up.” She pointed toward his arms, which camouflaged the mike. “K-Keep that th-thing away from m-me please.”

  “Anything you say, babe.” And, for Tara’s viewing benefit, he kissed Elizabeth, intense and slow, before letting her run off. Tara was on him in a heartbeat.

  “You know, Rob,” she said, flicking her blond hair away from her face and trying to send off that coy look, “I’ve got to give you credit. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle being with Lizzy Daniels for this long.”

  “Why’s that? You don’t think I’m up to the intellectual challenge?”

  Tara looked confused. “Well, Lizzy is smart, I suppose. She’s always had that, but—”

  “But what?” He didn’t need to have another vote of no confidence in his ability to handle Elizabeth’s brilliant mind. He knew he wasn’t at her level. Constant reminders hurt.

  “I guess I’m just surprised you’d be so blinded by someone like her. T
he two of us talked at Hauser’s that one night.”

  “You did?”

  Tara gave a bored sigh. “Well, yeah. Lizzy knows she’s not really your type. You two just don’t seem quite right. Together, I mean. Separately, of course, you’re fine. Well, you are. She’s in a different sphere altogether.”

  Light years ahead of him, Tara meant. A dumb jock like him couldn’t hold the interest of a woman like Elizabeth Daniels. Not for long.

  “Look, I’ve got to do some work right now,” he told her.

  She took three quick steps forward and put her palm on his forearm. “Do you need any help, Rob?”

  “Uh, no, thanks.”

  He looked up and caught Lance Burk glowering at them from halfway across the park.

  “Maybe I’ll see you later then?” she said.

  Later. Much, much later. “Yep. Enjoy the Topping Taste Test.”

  He sprinted away from her and up to his place at the head table. He checked his watch—time to start—and clicked on the microphone.

  “Hello, Everyone! Welcome to Wilmington Bay’s First Annual Topping Taste Test.”

  Everyone cheered like maniacs and one guy tossed his Frisbee high into the air as a form of enthusiastic salute. Someone else’s golden retriever ran after it, barking happily while everybody stopped to watch.

  Rob laughed. Community stuff like this was what made Wisconsin life so endearing. Sometimes the simplest things were what made him smile the most.

  Tony was in the crowd, Maria-Louisa and the kids in tow. His brother caught his eye and grinned. It was like him saying, “Welcome Home, big brother.”

  His Mama was there, too. She looked so proud of him. For all his Windy City accomplishments, this was the one thing—besides his wedding—that he knew she’d dreamed of seeing: Him in the Wilmington Bay spotlight again…which, he had to admit, felt pretty good right now. But he also knew how easily it could become suffocating. How quickly he could be categorized and dismissed. He’d worked for a decade to shed that “dumb jock” label, but look how fast it came back?