On Any Given Sundae (16 page)

“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, running 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. The 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?

He held up the mike and waved at the crowd.
Finally, they became momentarily silent.

“Okay, folks, this is what’s going to
happen,” he told them. “Pretty soon we’re going to call up all the
people who brought out their favorite toppings for the Taste Test.
Everyone who wants to will taste them on free scoops of
Tutti-Frutti ice cream, we’ll vote on them and we’ll award the
winner with a prize. Now, let’s hear a shout out from everybody who
brought in a topping for your friends and neighbors to try.”

A roar went up around him. Whoa. He was going
to have to divide this clan into smaller groups. No way could all
of them come up at once.

Elizabeth whispered frantically in his ear
about separating the crowd alphabetically, with each of
them—Gretchen, Nick, Jacques and herself—taking a table with about
a fourth of the alphabet and leaving Rob to be emcee.