On Any Given Sundae (11 page)

“Ooh, these are the best,” one of the other
ladies said. “Jimmy, over there at the bar,” she pointed, “makes
ours extra sweet and—”

“Extra potent,” another woman finished.

All the ladies at the table giggled and
raised their glasses in agreement.

“Sounds exactly l-like what I’m looking for,”
Elizabeth declared, polishing off the martini and gratefully
reaching for the margarita. She took a good look at Jimmy the
bartender. He was pretty cute. And their waiter—his nametag said
“Ivan”—was even cuter.

Mmm. This night had a lot of potential. She
sipped her new drink, smiled again at everyone and winked at
Ivan.

***

Rob and Tony sat in front of the TV, beers in
hand, discussing in intimate detail the parts of the visiting
team’s pitcher’s anatomy that they’d like to eviscerate, since he
caused the Brewers to lose again. Rob grinned through the goriness.
He missed spending nights like this with his kid brother.

“I keep envisioning a baseball version of
Braveheart
,” Tony said, tossing his empty beer can into the
trash. “But I guess TV can’t show everything.”

“Guess not.” Rob checked his watch. “Hey,
it’s after nine. How long is your wife going to be out?”

Tony shrugged. “Late. She gets it into her
head that she needs an outing with the girls once a month and, you
know, with five kids at home, I don’t blame her.”

“You don’t mind doing everything by yourself
for an evening, though? Putting all the kids to bed and all?” he
asked.

Tony laughed. “Look, Maria-Louisa does it all
by herself during the day. Every day. I’d give her the whole night
off three times a week if she asked for it. Once a month is
nothing.”

Rob thought of the five children sound asleep
upstairs. Sammie, when Rob poked his head in on him an hour ago,
was actually snoring. And one of the triplets—Michael—was talking
to a PBS dragon in his sleep. It was kind of cute, he had to admit.
In a Family Channel sort of way.

He got up to stretch his legs. “Hey, you feel
like cookies or ice cream or something? I can run out and pick up a
half-gallon or two for us.”

“I’d love some, but aren’t you sick of that
sweet stuff after all the hours you spend scooping it up every
day?” Tony stared at him with one of his deep, penetrating gazes.
This question wasn’t intended to be literal.

“Yes and no, Tony,” he admitted. “You know
how I like to talk to people, so that part of it has been fun. The
shop itself is running fine, and Elizabeth is so organized that we
have on hand anything we need days before we actually need it.”

“Ah, yes. Elizabeth.”

He groaned. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t start on me. I
can’t tell Mama the truth yet. That’s the part that hasn’t been
going so well. I mean, Elizabeth’s been awfully kind about helping
me fake this relationship, but soon Mama’s going to have to know
that it could never happen for real.”

“Because?” Tony prompted.

Man, let me count the ways
. “Because
we’re not of the same type. She’s quiet and reserved and
straight-laced. A class act. I’m loud and extraverted and a little
on the wild side.”

Tony indicated his agreement of that last
point.

“She’s a brain who writes. I’m a jock who
does business. She wants to live out the rest of her life in
Wilmington Bay. I want to get the hell back to Chicago at the end
of the month, preferably sooner. She wants four kids, and I don’t
want any if I can help it—”

“Whoa, big brother. Slow down.” Tony’s wide
eyes blinked at him. “You two talked about kids?”

“Just theoretically.”

“No, no,
no
. There’s no such thing
with women.” His brother crossed his arms. “Who brought it up? You
or her?”

Rob thought back over their coffee shop
conversation a few weeks ago. “I did, I think.”

Tony nodded. “Bad move, bro. You’ve got her
thinking and evaluating now. Plus, with all that playacting and
your lovey-dovey hand massaging… Don’t fool yourself, Rob. This may
be harder to break off than you think.”

“Hey, I was totally open with my intentions.
I’ve never led her on with this in any way. She knows it’s a game.
I don’t think she’ll be heartbroken when it ends.”

His brother laughed. “I don’t think she will
be either. I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about
you
.”

“What? That’s—that’s—”

“Not nearly as crazy as you may believe,”
Tony finished for him, although that wouldn’t have been how he’d
have chosen to end the sentence.

He and Frizzy Lizzy together? For
real?

He thought about her kindness to his family,
her understated prettiness, her sweet nature and the way she was
slowly relaxing around him. He remembered her soft, soft hands and
the attraction he’d felt for her that night of the coffee outing—an
emotion he’d worked hard to suppress because, well, because they
just didn’t mesh. They were too different. Right?

A jolt of “So what?” smacked him in the
gut.

So what if they had polar personalities?

So what if she could spin rings around him
intellectually?

So what if he did want to kiss her on the
lips, just once?

Not that he’d admit any of these things to
Tony.

“I’m going to get that ice cream now,” he
informed his brother. “Either suggest a flavor or I’ll have to pick
one for you.”

Tony smirked. “Avoidance is the devil’s game.
Play it at your own risk.”

Rob took several pointed strides in the
direction of the door. “I’m leaving.”

His brother crossed his arms and leaned back
against the sofa. “Okay, Peaches and Cream or Butter Pecan,
then.”

“How very wholesome of you.”

“Not especially,” Tony said. “I just like
what I like. But since you’re going out, could you do me a
favor?”

“I’m not picking up
Happy Feet
for you
or any other heartwarming kiddie DVDs, no.”

“Wasn’t what I was going to ask. Did you
always jump to conclusions like this or is it a recent
development?”

He sighed. “What do you want?”

“Maria-Louisa’s mom called earlier and their
hair appointments got canceled for the morning. She’s either got
her cell phone clicked off or it’s too hard to hear it at Hauser’s
‘cause I can’t reach her. Could you swing by there and give her the
message? She’d appreciate being able to stay out later tonight
knowing she’ll get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Rob said, pondering how
frightening it was that Tony was so taken in by his petite wife
that he’d urge her to stay out later on a Saturday night and sleep
in longer on a Sunday morning.

And tomorrow was
Father’s
Day.

He squinted at his brother and shook his
head. The guy was whipped.

He walked out of their House of Love and into
Hauser’s a few minutes later still thinking about this. About
having a totally loving, accepting relationship like Tony and
Maria-Louisa’s. About what that would be like on a day-to-day
basis.

He inhaled the pungent aroma of extinguished
cigarettes by the door mingling with half-empty pints of beer. He
felt the vibration of the classic Garth Brooks song, “Friends in
Low Places,” from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes.
People snickered in one corner, laughed in another, argued in a
third. But it was the group in the fourth corner that stopped him
like a ten-foot stone wall.

They were chugging strawberry margaritas as
though they expected Diane Sawyer to announce a world-shortage on
the news tomorrow.

They were flirting with one of the waiters,
hooting over his jokes and then dissolving into giggling
aftershocks.

They were rising up en masse and dancing in
place for fifteen straight seconds before collapsing into their
chairs again, arms flung to the sides, glasses dangling
precariously in delicate-looking hands. Someone dropped one and
they all roared with laughter. The waiter called for another to be
sent over.

They were people he knew, or so he’d
thought.

Soft-spoken Maria-Louisa. Her cousin
Angelica. Her best friend Sandy, who’d been maid of honor at the
wedding when he’d been best man. Three of the young neighbor women,
all with preschoolers, who’d brought over casseroles and cakes so
very primly the week he’d arrived back in town. Nice, sensible
people. Usually.

But it was the last lady there whose name
caught in his throat. He struggled to say it aloud. He whispered it
at first, but no way could she hear above this racket. He spoke it
a second time, louder, but still no luck. Finally, he resorted to
shouting.

“Elizabeth!”

Heads from all four corners of Hauser’s
turned to stare at him. Conversations ground to a halt. Then they
all turned back and continued their chattering. Except for the
group of women he knew (or thought he knew). They pointed their
polished fingernails at him. Shrieked. Hollered cheerful greetings
he couldn’t quite catch. Motioned him over, waving their margarita
pitcher in invitation.

His feet sent him staggering toward The
Sirens.

“Rob!” Elizabeth said, beaming a cute but
somewhat sloppy grin aimed in the vicinity of his left shoulder.
“How are you? I’m really g-good.”

“She’s wonderful,” Angelica gushed, sploshing
some of her pink drink on her cream-colored blouse. “And so am I.
And we think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Well, um, thanks,” he said.

Maria-Louisa popped in with, “Wanna join us?
We’ve got lots here.” She examined the almost-empty pitcher. “Well,
more’s coming.” She grinned at him. “How’s my darling hubby? At
home asleep yet?”

“No, not yet.” He relayed Tony’s message
about her mom and the canceled appointments while studying with new
eyes the absolutely, falling-over-drunk Elizabeth Daniels.

“Goody!” Maria-Louisa shouted. “I just hate
getting my hair cut!”

This inspired a chorus of “Me, Too”s from the
women and an “I
especially
hate it” from Elizabeth.

Which led to a moment of hushed sympathy
before a burst of:

“Oh, it must be really, really hard to find
someone who can cut long, curly hair.”

“But it’s so beautiful. What do you do to
tame the waves?”

“My sister in Minneapolis uses one of those
special conditioners that reduce frizziness while still
strengthening the roots and stopping split ends…”

He watched Elizabeth glance around the group
and grin.

“Gotta try that stuff then,” she said before
chugging the rest of her margarita.

“More all around!” Maria-Louisa proclaimed,
batting her eyelashes in appreciation at the waiter’s arrival, a
fresh pitcher on his tray.

“How are you all getting home?” Rob
asked.

“Stevie’s picking us up in his minivan,” one
of the neighbor ladies said of her husband. “He wanted that tank.
He got it. Now he has to use it for something worthwhile.”

They all started laughing again for no good
reason.

“Wait,” Sandy said. They paused.

“Another Garth Brooks song!” four of the
ladies shouted at once. The whole group rose and began wiggling and
jiggling. Elizabeth’s moves were even wilder and freer than the
rest.

His supposedly reserved sister-in-law spun
into him. “Dance with us, Roberto. Shake that booty.”

Additional hoots and hollers followed. He
stood motionless.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand. “Oh, come
on
, Rob. We’ve all got the beat.” And she pulled him toward
her, raised his arm above her head and twirled underneath it.

“I think that was the Go-Go’s, not Garth,”
one of them said, swinging her hair in a full 360°.

“Who cares?” said another.

Elizabeth twirled again, lost her balance and
lunged right for his chest. He caught her and pulled her close to
steady her. She gave him a death squeeze and he automatically
hugged her tighter. Then her grip relaxed and her soft body wilted
in his arms. She buried her face in the Brewers jersey he’d
snitched from Tony’s closet, snuggled up to him like a baby bunny
and sighed.

“I’m really tired,” she whispered.

He smoothed her luscious hair with his
fingertips. “I can drive you to your apartment,” he said, fighting
the image of those beautiful reddish-brown curls fanned out on a
white silk pillow.

“Hmm. Okay.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“It was going to be too late before Ivan got off his shift
anyway.”

“What?”
Who the hell was Ivan?

She pointed vaguely in the direction of one
of the waiters. “I’ll pick him up next time,” she said, turning to
say her goodbyes to the group as he stared at her dumbfounded. She
was going to pick up some other guy? Not a chance! He shot Ivan a
death stare and the laughing waiter took a few worried strides back
toward the bar.
That’s right, bucko. Stay away if you know
what’s good for you.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth thanked the women for
the fun time and forced his sister-in-law into taking some money
for her share of the margaritas. Then she leaned into him again,
slipped her little arm around his waist and stumbled a few steps
forward.

“Off we go,” she said. She ran her free palm
against his abs. “Mmmmm.”

“Mmm, what?” He took one final glance around
the room and caught Tara Welles’s stunned gaze and dropped jaw a
few feet from them. He looked away.

“You’ve got one hot body, Rob Gabinarri,”
Elizabeth said. Loudly. The ladies’ group wolf-whistled. “Now, take
me home.”

Holy Cannoli.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Elizabeth felt strange. Lightheaded. Her feet
rocked under her as if she were standing in a kayak. The world
looked fuzzier around the edges, like an old-fashioned photograph,
although the colors weren’t variants of gray. They were more a
muted pastel, airbrushed with powdered sugar.