On Any Given Sundae (3 page)

She didn’t answer. She just pulled her hands
out from under his and buried them in that long, frizzling hair of
hers. Lovely reddish-brown strands, come to think of it.

“Um, Lizzy?”

“E-E-Eliz-zab-b-beth.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Elizabeth, are you
okay?”

She shook her head. “I n-n—” She squeezed her
eyes shut, her face flushing a deep pink. “I n-need to g-g-go.” She
thrust the schedule and some keys at him. Then, waving a
lightning-fast farewell, she sprinted out the door before he could
even say,
So long, now
.

Women. Wasn’t that just the way they
operated?

Well, an enforced vacation in Wilmington Bay
hardly lived up to his dream of a relaxing beachside resort—the
Virgin Islands was more his speed—but a Gabinarri had to do what a
Gabinarri had to do.

With a sigh, he grabbed his cell phone and
punched in The Playbook’s landline.

“Miguel? Yep, I’m here and, nope, I didn’t
bring up nearly enough clothing. I could use some Abercrombie and
Fitch. Some Old Navy. Some Gap. Any chance you could go to my condo
and FedEx up a few of my favorites tomorrow?”

Miguel, good man that he was, said he could,
and that he’d throw in a few cheery surprises as well. “Where do
you want it sent, Boss Man?”

Rob pinched his chin and rubbed the pad of
his finger over the day-old stubble. He recited his brother Tony’s
address. He’d square this with Tony and Maria-Louisa soon, but he
had to at least have the appearance of a man who knew what he was
doing and where he was going before sitting down to dinner with
Mama tonight. Twenty-eight years of experience told him no one got
away with being wishy-washy around Mama.

“Thanks, Miguel. Keep an eye on my restaurant
for me, will you? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Will do. Oh!” Rob heard the unmistakable
sound of diabolical laughter on the line.

“What?”

Miguel kept laughing even as he spoke. “The
new menus. Guess you’ll have to trust me on the design of those
now, huh?”

Rob groaned. It wasn’t that he was worried at
the final look. Miguel excelled at anything having to do with
artistic photography, décor and style. It was just that Rob wasn’t
fond of losing his place at the center of the action. He’d once
been a quarterback, after all. Old habits died hard.

“Have fun in the Land of Cheese, Boss Man,”
Miguel said before clicking off.

No doubt about it. A month back in Wilmington
Bay and his brain would look like hunks of Swiss, his body like
clumps of curd and his patience like shreds of mozzarella.

He shook his head and punched in his
brother’s phone number.

***

Elizabeth speed-dialed Gretchen on her cell
only five seconds after she closed her car door. No chance her
hands would stop shaking, though, for five
thousand
seconds,
at least.

“M-Meet me at my place in half an hour,”
Elizabeth told her.

“You sound crazed,” Gretchen said. “What’s
going on?”

She swallowed. “He’s back.”

“Who?”

“Rob,” Elizabeth whispered.

Gretchen gasped. “Roberto Gabinarri? The ‘Hot
Calzone’ of Wilmington Bay High?”

“The very one.”

“Hold onto your oregano, honey, I’ll be right
over.”

By the time Elizabeth’s heartbeat had slowed
to a mere Fred-n-Ginger tap-dance pace, Gretchen arrived, her
presence announced by a healthy pounding at the door.

She strode in—tall, strong, big-boned but
without flab, shoulder-length blond hair, bright blue eyes,
peachy-cream skin with natural rouge spots on her cheeks—bearing a
box of her famous truffles and a tin of cocoa. All she’d need to
complete the Original Swiss Miss look was a white ruffled apron and
a backdrop of the Alps behind her.

Gretchen thrust the chocolate offerings at
Elizabeth. “So, tell me about this dude. You two graduated
together, right?”

“R-Right.”

“What’s so bad about him?”

Gretchen was a few years older and had gone
to high school in a neighboring town. She’d heard of Rob, of
course, like everyone, but she’d never been under his spell.

“Everything. Seeing him again—it’s worse than
I thought. Even worse than it was in the beginning.”

“Let’s start there then. The beginning. You
met him, when?”

“The s-summer I turned five.”

Gretchen’s eyebrows popped up to the middle
of her forehead. “You’ve known him that long?”

“Uh-huh.” The years spun like a pinwheel
through Elizabeth’s mind with images of Rob flashing in full color
on every panel. “My Uncle Siegfried and his Uncle Pauly were
celebrating their seventeenth anniversary of being in business
together. Rob and his family lived in Wilmington Bay already but my
family had just moved here so I could start school in the fall. We
were all invited to a Tutti-Frutti party.”

“And it was love at first sight, right?”
Gretchen said.

“Not even close. I was terrified of him. He
seemed like a creature from the Klingon Empire…and he never stopped
talking. And m-me—” She looked into Gretchen’s face and saw the
caring, loyalty and sympathy an intensely private person like
herself came to count on in a friend. The feeling of safety warmed
her soul, even while head still twirled in panic. “You know how
hard words can be for me around people I don’t trust. People I’m
not comfortable with.”

“I know, honey. I know.” Gretchen put a
gentle arm around her shoulders. “So, did he ever stop talking so
much?”

She shook her head. “It’s remarkable, really.
The guy doesn’t shut up. He wasn’t in a homeroom class with me
until third grade but, even before then, I could always recognize
his voice in the hall. Hear his laughter.”

“Did he bug you in third grade?”

“No. He was nice. Nice to everyone,” she
said, remembering the smiling dark-haired kid Rob was back then.
“There was this one day when he’d lost his pencil. It was a Friday
afternoon. He was sitting next to me at the Number Four table and
Mrs. Klausen had asked us twice already to get our writing utensils
out. Teddy from across the table said, ‘Hey, Rob, you can have one
of my dinosaur ones,’ and he rolled it over to him. But I held my
best pencil out to him. It didn’t have any fancy designs on it or
anything, but it was sharpened just perfectly. And he took mine
instead. He said thanks to both of us, though, before rolling
Teddy’s pencil back. He laughed and talked to me through the whole
project, and he told me a story about his little sister and some
peas. I forget how that relates. And then, when the bell rang, he
returned my pencil to me. He said, ‘Thanks for giving me the best
one,’ and he left.”

“So he noticed,” Gretchen said.

Elizabeth felt the usual sliver of pride when
she thought about that day. “Yeah. He noticed.”

“Was he extra nice the next day?”

“The next school day was a Monday and Mrs.
Klausen changed the seating chart. She put me at the Number Three
table and Rob at the Number One table. Until that day, she’d been
my favorite teacher.”

Gretchen laughed. “So that was when you fell
in love with him, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “That was the first time.”

“When was the second time?”

“Senior year of high school. English
class.”

Gretchen pulled open the truffle box and
waved it and its tantalizing aroma under Elizabeth’s nose. “Eat
one,” she commanded. “And talk. What did he borrow this time? A
thesaurus?”

Elizabeth shook her head then selected a
morsel of gorgeous hand-dipped chocolate. “Mmm,” she said as the
rich cocoa butter and hazelnut flavors mingled delectably on her
tongue. So heavenly. So unbelievably high in fat grams and
calories. And so…oh, so what? “I love these.” She reached for
another one.

Her friend snatched away the box. “Not until
you tell me about twelfth-grade English. What’d he do then?”

She groaned. “Don’t be cruel, Gretchen.”

Gretchen gave Elizabeth her best Elvis
sneer.

“Oh, okay,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “But
only because you’re an amazing chocolatier.” Gretchen edged the box
toward her a few centimeters, but it was still out of reach.

She sighed. “It was in the middle of the
year, just before Christmas. Mr. Shane had assigned us these essays
to write on holiday traditions, and I wrote mine about a precursor
of the winter solstice celebrations—the ancient Roman Saturnalia
feast. It was so fun to research with all the incredible foods to
describe and the revelry of the people. Anyway, Mr. Shane read
three of our essays aloud, and mine was one of them.”

“Because those were the best, right?”

She shrugged, but the sliver of pride grew a
little larger at that memory, too. “Anyway, I was nauseated through
the whole thing. I mean, I’d been in pullout speech therapy since
preschool, and I was terrified Mr. Shane was going to make me
answer questions about my paper afterward. But he didn’t.” She
paused. “Rob came up to me, though. After class.”

Gretchen edged the truffle box forward again.
Getting closer. “And?”

“And he said, ‘Your paper was really cool.
You’re a great writer.’ I was speechless, which wasn’t surprising,
but still. And then his girlfriend at the time, Tara Welles, who’d
never spoken to me once in high school until then, materialized
like a phantom witch next to us. She said, ‘I guess
you’d
know a lot about
food
, Lizzy,’ and she wrinkled her snobby
nose at me, which made it look sharper and more witch-like than
usual, and she made a big show of looking me up and down. You know,
like she was cataloging the twenty extra pounds I shouldn’t have
been carrying on my hips and thighs. Then she pulled Rob away, and
he pretty much avoided talking to me for the rest of the
semester.”

“Do you think he was scared of her?” Gretchen
said, finally moving the truffles to within easy reach.

Elizabeth popped one in her mouth and melted
with it. “Mmm. I don’t know, but how could he miss the message she
sent? ‘Frizzy Lizzy’ wasn’t the kind of girl a guy like him should
ever take seriously.”

“
Frizzy Lizzy?”
Gretchen said,
incredulous.

“Yep. That’s what they called me.” She
fluffed out her naturally curly, naturally disastrous hair. “Nice
nickname, huh?”

“No wonder you insist on being called
Elizabeth.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well. Anyway, I know that
was all a long time ago, but there’s just something about Rob that
gets to me. In one sense, we practically grew up next door to each
other, but the reality is that I’ve always been worlds away from
him. I know Uncle Siegfried must’ve thought having someone else to
help with the shop would be a relief for me, but he should’ve known
better. He knows darn well how self-conscious I am.”

“Maybe Pauly insisted and Siegfried couldn’t
say no. Rob is Pauly’s nephew, after all. And,” Gretchen added
gently, “Rob is reputed to be a pretty successful businessman.”

“Oh, I know. But can I help it if I want to
avoid him as much as possible? Maybe someday I’ll be calm and
capable enough not to get so tongue-tied around him. But that day
is not today. Or tomorrow, for that matter.”

Gretchen rubbed her temples, a sign she was
in deep thought. “After your uncle dropped this bomb on you, you
called and told me you were going to make up a schedule, right? One
that Nick, Jacques and I could help you with. Did you do it?”

“Yes. And I purposely planned my shifts so
I’d work with any one of you except for him. I’m not working with
him, Gretchen.”

“Okay, okay. Not a problem.” She laughed.
“You say he talks a lot? I hope you stuck him with Nick as often as
possible. That boy could talk the ears off of corn. The two of them
ought to cancel each other out.”

Elizabeth had to agree. “I don’t even
remember what I wrote anymore, except that Rob and I are at
opposite ends of the day. I made sure I worked around all of your
busiest times, though. Nick’s got his brother’s restaurant during
the day—”

“Ah, yes. Jason the spanakopita god. Nick’s
learning from the best. I never thought I’d come to love spinach
but…mmm.”

“I know. And Jacques has the bakery in the
morning.”

“That man’s talent amazes me. And his accent
makes me giddy, although not nearly as giddy as those incredible
fig cookies he makes. You know, he told me he puts a teaspoon
of—”

“Gretchen! Stay with me here. And
you
have to work at Chocolate Heaven every afternoon, right?”

“That’s true.”

“So the general plan should work. I scheduled
myself to do the opening shift and the next one. Rob has to do a
midday shift and also close the shop.”

“So, see, you
can
avoid him.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Maybe, but the problem is
that twenty-four hours are nowhere near enough time for everything
I have to do. Whether I open or close, I’ve got a ton of writing
left to finish for this cookbook. My deadline’s August first. And
some recipes need to be rewritten. Camden has to fly out here to
shoot the pictures. I want to make sure my best friends—” she
squeezed Gretchen’s arm, “get their creations highlighted in the
book in a way that makes sense…”

“Just stop worrying. Nick and Jacques will be
there tomorrow morning, too. Between the four of us, we’ll put the
Hot Italian in his place and figure out a way to get you some
quality writing time. Okay, um, Lizzy?” her blond friend said with
a saucy grin.

“Oh, don’t you start.” She gave Gretchen a
light smack. But she felt better already. Thank God for true
friends. Especially friends who could make such wicked things with
chocolate.

She grabbed one last truffle then closed the
box.

***

Ten a.m. Tutti-Frutti time. And they were all
assembled at the confectionary shop. Except for Rob.