by Ellie Hall
“I’m afraid you missed the boat. Out of college, I was Anderson’s assistant. His world seemed so glamorous. Fancy dinners, dresses, jewels. I fell hard. He was sweet at first. Then he betrayed me for my sister. I guess my laughter is too loud. My hair too wild. She’s more refined. More in line with what he’s looking for. I’m not the kind of woman who’d fit in your world.”
There’s not a comma, a question mark, or an invitation to continue the conversation at the end of the sentence.
She gets up and pads away through the sand.
I clamber to my feet, watching my world unravel in slow motion. “Rose, wait. You’re my kind of woman.”
But she doesn’t look back.
Boats cruise through the lake. Kids splash in the shallows. There are picnics and play.
As always, I feel like I’m on the outside—not in my parents’ upper crust world. Not when I’ve tried to be a regular guy and blend in. I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere until I met Rosie. Until I came here.
I understand why she’s upset. I broke her trust.
I get why she’d walk away. I didn’t trust myself.
But it torches me.
Melts me.
I feel stark.
An inner wasteland.
I could scream.
Eventually, I wander back to my aunt’s mansion. I’ll never be able to avoid the life I was born into. The problem is, that means I’ll never belong anywhere.
Buttercup greets me with her sweet, doggy enthusiasm. I find Aunt Christina in the kitchen, baking a blueberry pie—Rose and I picked them the other day.
“There you are. I got a little carried away baking today. This pie is for the surprise birthday party Jeanie planned for Rose, but I also made these white chocolates to look like bunnies. See the little ears? They’re down-home and sophisticated, just like us.” Over the last weeks, Aunt Christina has expressed the idea that she and I are an anomaly in our respective families. We can play our roles but are more content living on our own terms—like my newfound freedom in Liberty Lake.
Aunt Christina gives me an affectionate squeeze and then pulls back. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I echo the way Rose said it earlier.
“Sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I relay everything that happened.
“Oh, my dear, Douglas.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s dear.
Her palm cups the top of my hand, resting on the table, and she gives a squeeze.
“I helped save the lake, but I lost the girl.”
“You didn’t lose her. You scared her. Probably because you were scared.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Scared to tell her who you really are because maybe it frightens you a little.”
This time my brows lower.
Aunt Christina bites her lip. “When you said you were coming to visit, I braced myself for a facsimile of your father.” She tilts from side to side and moves in a marching motion. In a mock-male voice, she says, “Oil, invest, money, business.”
The edges of my lips inch toward a smile. “Accurate.”
“Remember, I hadn’t seen you since you were—” She holds her hand out at waist height. “We’re family, but not a family if you know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“But instead of King Douglas Junior, I made the acquaintance of a lovely young man who sees the world through his own eyes and not the lenses he inherited.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it. You surprised me. That’s but one reason Jeanie and I thought you and Rose ought to go on a date. You’re perfect for each other.”
I wrinkle my nose to disagree, but I don’t. Not at all. “We were perfect for each other until I screwed things up.”
“The thing to remember is that you didn’t intend to upset Rose. You weren’t thinking.”
“Neither was Anderson by the sound of it.”
“I know that young man’s father. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But you can fix this.”
How do I fix it?
A pie? An ice cream sundae? Not even a serenade would do. Rose is the Queen of Cones and I’m a King. That’s the problem. I have to prove myself to her. Hopefully, it’s not too late.
13
All you Need is Love (and ice cream) // Rose
I didn’t need to look back to see Doug’s face crumbling when I walked away. It fell as surely as my heart. My trust.
In the couple of days that lead to my birthday, a certain classic tune I used to hear when I’d ride around in my grandfather’s car echoes in my mind with the refrain, “It’s my birthday and I’ll...”
I hope I don’t cry. Refusing to shed another tear, I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t even need to close them to see Doug’s outline, his dimples, his eyes. He haunts my mind. Forget occupying ninety percent. I’ve topped out at one hundred.
But I’m upset. I was duped. Guys like Doug King can sell sand at the beach. I bought it up without a second thought and watch as it sifts through my fingers.
First time with Anderson, shame on him. Second time with Doug...shame on me.
The emptiness in my heart is devastation. The silence within me is loss.
I flop back on my sofa and Butterscotch nestles close to me. “Should we escape and cut our losses?”
Her little nose twitches. I roll over, eyeing the freezer. “I’m pretty sure there’s some ice cream leftover from when the girls were here last month.”
I sit up at the sound of car doors slamming and laughter. “The girls,” I whisper, belatedly recalling their promise to come back for my birthday.
Wiping my eyes, the door opens.
“We come bearing gifts.” Catherine carries a bag from my favorite bath and beauty shop.
“And we’re not the only ones. Look what we found on the porch.” A massive bouquet fills Hazel’s arms.
“Third this week. My love cannot be bought,” I blurt.
Colette waves her hands dismissively. “Mine can be bartered.”
“What was that about love? Does this have anything to do with Dougie?” Lottie teases.
I’ve kept them well appraised of my summer fling, well, up until a few days ago.
“You mean Douglas King.”
Colette inclines her head. “Of King Oil Enterprises?”
“The very same. However, I didn’t know that until Anderson made formal introductions. All along, I thought he was Doug Slate—buff biker, car aficionado, ice cream lover...” Rosie lover.
“Oh, this is bad. Really bad,” Catherine says, knowing how Anderson betrayed me and, crushed, I escaped to this lake town to lick my wounds.
Turned out to be my saving grace.
But I’m right back where I started.
“Good thing we know where to get ice cream,” Minnie says.
“We could go all girl-gang on him and whoop his butt.” Colette pounds her fist into her palm.
“What about your birthday?” Lottie asks.
I shake my head.
“Should we wallow for the night?” Hazel suggests.
I frown and then nod.
The girls envelop me in hugs, smooth my hair, and promise me everything will be okay.
And it will. I know that. I’ve been down this road before. The trouble is, I wanted to go down a different road with Doug. A route that ended here in my cottage, us together. Rings on our fingers. A future. Maybe even a family. But he wasn’t the guy I thought he was.
My friends do the hard work of distracting me, making me laugh, and coming up with all the reasons Doug is a toad and not a prince.
Only, his last name is King and I can’t forget that.
When everyone dozes off, I step onto my patio overlooking the lake. The moon glistens off the water. The summer air is a warm embrace. I don’t hate Doug. My love for him shattered but is still inside. It’s the loss of what I thought we had that stings. I su
ppose sometimes it isn’t about overcoming heartache. Rather, learning how to live with it, and getting to know the person I am after loss. To persevere. The swell of sadness crests. I don’t want to start the process all over again. But this is what is meant to be. After all, I came here to be independent.
At my surprise party, I feign disbelief for Jeanie’s sake. I laugh and smile and pretend the summer never happened. We sing and I blow out the candles on my ice cream cake. We celebrate, dance, and light sparklers.
I have the best friends and family here at Liberty Lake. I’m lucky in so many ways. Except in love.
As August rolls into September, the crowds of summer dwindle, but we remain fairly steady at Queen’s Cones. My friends check on me, sending texts and funny memes. Thankfully, Margo ignores me. The flowers and chocolates continue to trickle in. Doug accompanies each one with an apology. Little projects around the cottage miraculously get done, including a new hutch for Butterscotch. The Corvette had a flat tire, and he fixed it. But I never see him. Just catch whiffs of his man-scent and the occasional smudge of grease on the white trim of the cottage’s porch railings.
Each day, the sadness recedes slightly. Maybe it’s because he’s still here. He hasn’t left and turned his back on me. Not like Anderson—who, unfortunately, he’s still part of my life with no thanks to my sister.
As summer wraps up, Jeanie and I make a list of what else we’ll need for the ice cream social. Emma, dressed as an ice cream cone, passes out flyers, calling. “Don’t miss Liberty Lake’s Annual Ice Cream Social and Summer Talent Show. Saturday afternoon right here.”
“You’re still sulking,” Jeanie says as I stare at the lake.
“At least I’m not stomping,” I mutter.
“I’m not sure which is worse.”
“He was here earlier. That man cares a lot about you. He’s no Anderson,” Jeanie says.
My arms wrap around my chest.
She grips me in a side hug. “I know it hurts, and it was wrong of Doug not to tell you his true identity, but I believe everything about what you two had this summer was real.”
My entire body vibrates with agreement, but my mind protests.
“I know he keeps doing sweet little and big things for you. He’s trying to prove himself. Men are doers for the most part. Women tend to be feelers. Not always, but a lot of the time and that’s not me putting stereotypes on anyone. It’s just the truth that I’ve seen in my sixty-some-odd years. No sense in denying ourselves the truth.”
I lean in for a real hug because the truth is I love Doug.
Jeanie winks at me and we spend the rest of the day preparing for the final hurrah of the summer.
The next morning dawns sunny and bright. Liberty Lake is back to her sparkling blue beauty. Butterscotch and I follow our usual routine. “Another season just about in the books,” I say, scratching her ears and give her a rosehip treat before my long day.
On my walk over to Queen’s Cones, chalk arrows and hearts dot the pavement. Only, instead of leading to the ice cream shop, they lead to the dock. An arrow next to my name points in the direction of a man with dark hair sitting on the edge with his bare feet dangling over the water.
Emma and Jeanie stand behind the ice cream social tables, covered in streamers and confetti. They wave and then point toward Doug on the dock.
I shake my head and start in their direction. All at once, an army of women—namely, Catherine, Hazel, Minnie, Colette, Lottie, my mom, and unfathomably, my sister—bar my entry.
“Sorry, sis. Someone’s waiting for you over there.”
I stutter.
“Go on,” Catherine says.
“I had to call in reinforcements,” Jeanie calls.
My eyes widen.
“He just wants to talk to you,” Colette says in her sweet southern accent.
“Give the poor guy a chance.”
“Please. He’s been moping around here for weeks.”
Lottie and Minnie march me toward the dock.
When we approach, Doug looks up through dark lashes. His eyes are bluer than ever. I could sink into them. Never surface. Am I willing to risk that? And he shaved his beard. His dimples pop from an unusually bashful smile. This isn’t the time or place, but I have to admit his jawline is impressive.
“Hey, Rosie,” he says softly. “I was wondering if you’d take a ride with me.” He points to a rowboat. “No oil or fluids required.”
I shift from foot to foot as the others shove me forward.
He holds out his hand to help me into the rowboat.
Warmth and light and love flood me. I whimper.
“You okay?”
My answer is a sigh.
He gets in and begins rowing. “Rose, I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. I guess part of me wanted to be someone else for a summer. A guy without the last name King. Without the responsibilities and expectations that come with being part of one of the wealthiest families in the country. Just to be a regular guy. I blew it because a regular guy wouldn’t have betrayed you.”
His eyes flicker to mine. I meet them, seeing the sorrow there as surely as he sees mine.
“I accept your apology. I suppose I can be stubborn and it probably would’ve been helpful for you to know that I have trust issues.”
“We really jumped into things, huh?”
“That’s what summer is for. A fling.” I eye the water, warm in the sunshine.
“I’d like more than that, Rosie. Remember when you showed me the anatomy of a perfect ice cream? I’d like to show you the anatomy of the perfect relationship.” Doug pauses in the center of the lake. “It’s a scoop of trust and honesty. Plus one big heaping spoonful of communication.”
My lips quirk as he opens a picnic basket and scoops ice cream out of small, insulated tubs, and into a waffle cone bowl.
“Then we have respect and support.” He drizzles hot fudge and melted marshmallow on top. “There’s a sprinkle of friendship and flexibility—like being open to change.” He adds Reece’s Pieces, mini M&Ms, and rainbow sprinkles. Plus a squirt of whipped cream. “Can’t forget a twist of appreciation.”
I can’t hide my smile. “This looks suspiciously like the Queen’s Cones Special.”
“But here are a couple of my own additions.” He sprinkles on crushed pecans. “I’m nuts about you, Rosie.”
I beam a smile. “Maybe we’re mint to be.”
“Well, you melted my heart.”
Inside the basket, I spot a jar of cherries. I pluck one out and pop it on top. “Well, I like you cherry much, Dougie.”
“Would you like to share this sundae with me?” he asks, holding out a spoon.
I take a bite. “It never gets old. Delicious every time. This view doesn’t get old either. Neither does looking at you, King. But I liked the beard.”
“Should I grow it back? Anything for you, Queen.”
“McQueen. But no, you can keep it smoothly shaved for a while. We can mix things up.”
“So do you want to do this?”
“What?” I take another bite.
“Us.”
“For real?”
“I’d like to make you my queen.” From the basket, he takes out a waffle cone and plonks it upside down on what’s left of the ice cream. A ring with a sparkly stone loops the cone’s tip.
My eyes widen.
Doug nods and holds up the ring.
My jaw lowers.
“Will you marry me, Rosie? The real me. The one who made a mistake. Who’s sorry. Who loves you more than anything.” He meets my gaze and holds me there as we bob in the water. But I don’t go under. I don’t lose myself. Because together, we won’t get lost.
“I’d like that very much, Dougie.”
He slides the diamond ring around my finger. I lurch forward and wrap my arms around him. The boat tips to the left then right. Doug steadies us then clutching my fist tight, I take his hand with the other one.
I say, “If we’re going to rock the boat,
let’s really make a splash.”
Doug smiles broadly. Then as we leap, he hollers, “She said yes.”
When we surface, he clutches me in his arms and we melt into a kiss on this fine, final day of summer.
Connect with Ellie Hall
Ellie Hall loves puppies, books, and the ocean. She writes sweet romance with lots of firsts and fizzy feels. Oh, and she loves cookies, chocolate chip especially. She believes in dreaming big, working hard, and lazy Sunday afternoons spent with her family and dog in gratitude for God’s grace.
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Summer Dowell
The perfect meet-cute and then fall madly in love...That was how it was supposed to happen. Too bad I was the only one that followed the plan. It was fine, I’d completely moved past the man. At least until he walked into my office on Monday morning.
1
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