On Any Given Sundae Read Free Page B

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