They rocketed to their feet and ran off in search of flip-flops or sandals. I gathered up the pillows and blankets they’d scattered from a fort we’d made earlier.
The Millers’ house was one of those perfect family houses. The kind with hardwood floors and rain jackets hanging on pegs; snickerdoodle or chocolate chip cookies in a Tupperware on the counter; white lights hanging over a weathered backpatio full of plants in pots; soccer balls dotting the backyard. The family room had a fireplace and shelves filled with books; kids’ paintings hung on the fridge and were tacked to bulletin boards. There was a fresh laundry smell, rosebushes and flagstones in the yard. It was a beautiful home but one that was worn at the edges. You wanted to live there, not tiptoe through it and tell your friends about it later. The Millers had moved in that winter, and the house already felt like they had been there forever.
“Where are we going to get the ice cream?” Annie asked, as they piled into the car.
“Verity,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat. The Millers had one of those SUVs with two rows of seats in the back. It was very new and very shiny, and it always made me nervous to drive it.
“We’ve never been to Verity!” Kate said from what they called the back-back-seat. She was the oldest, nine.
“Seriously?” I asked. Verity Ice Cream is a Lithia institution. It’s been around since the 1930s.
“We haven’t lived here very long,” Drew, the middle kid, reminded me. His dad, Jake, had gotten a job as a professor at Howell University. Hannah, the mom, worked at a nonprofit.
“I’ll have to show you all the good Lithia summer stuff,” I said. “Ice cream. Peach pancakes at Zippy’s Diner. Sandwiches at Home Run Deli. Hiking in Hopkins Glen. S’mores. Lakeside Park. Catching fireflies. Berry picking. Swimming.”
“We go to the swimming pool all the time,” Kate said. “At the country club.”
“Well, I’ve never been to the country club,” I said.
“Really?”
“Really.” My parents did okay—my mom was a dental hygienist and my dad was a graphic designer—but joining the country club was not a thought that would have ever crossed either of their minds. “And there are lots of secret swimming places besides the regular pools. Ponds, and spots in the state parks.”
“Really?” Annie had gone breathless. “Secretswimming pools?”
“Can you take us there?” Drew asked.
“I’ll have to check with your parents first.”
Finding some of the secret swimming spots had been something I’d done with Alex the summer after ninth grade. He and I always invented a project for the summer. One year, we’d learned the butterfly stroke in swimming.
This year, we were trying every flavor on the menu at Verity Ice Cream together.
I started driving down the road that snaked from the Heights—the Millers’ old, beautiful neighborhood—to downtown. “But you’re going to love this ice cream. I promise. They have a ton of flavors.”
The summer evening crowd was out in full force. We had to wait in line, and I read the flavors of ice cream listed on the giant blackboard over and over to each of the kids while they decided. Sam was there, wearing his work uniform, a white button-up short-sleeved shirt and a red baseball cap with the Verity logo on it. I kept having to look away because I wanted him to come out from behind the counter and put his mouth on mine and I was worried that that was showing on my face.
When it was finally our turn, we ended up with another employee helping us because Sam was already busy. I was either going to crack up laughing from the faked formality of the whole thing or implode with lust the next time I caught his eye. I got Cinnamon Crunch because it was a flavor I’d already had with Alex so I wouldn’t be breaking our pact. Kate got Mint Chocolate Chip, and the younger two both got Bubble Gum Blast. I knew I’d have to keep an eye on where all that gum ended up.
We sat at one of the picnic tables outside, sharing it with a young mom and her baby in a stroller. She was feeding him vanilla ice cream from a tiny sample spoon, and every time she gave him a bite, he kicked his legs in delight.
I went over to get extra water cups for the kids to save their bubble gum chunks in for later. It was disgusting, but it was also what Jack and I had done as kids. No way would we ever have let all that gum go to waste. As I was walking toward the door, a car drove by and someone wolf-whistled me, and I flipped them off before I remembered that the kids might be watching.
When I came back, the younger two had chipmunk cheeks full of gum that they’d been saving up while they waited for me. They spat them into their cups and wiped their mouths with red-and-white napkins printed with the Verity slogan:Truly Delicious.
A loose knot of teenagers sat at a table next to us, flirting and laughing and telling jokes. The kids watched them in fascination.
“We are upso late,” Annie whispered, almost to herself, in total delight.
Sam came outside to bring someone at another table a banana split. The whipped cream was already starting to slide off the top because he’d put on too much. I stood up to get another cup of water for Annie. After Sam delivered the ice cream, he walked over to where I was standing at the spigot. Without either of us saying anything, we ducked around the corner. He pulled me in and kissed me fast, so quick it left me breathless. He tasted like ice cream, blackberry.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said back.
I closed my eyes. His lips were so good. Both of our hands were on each other’s backs, just under the hems of each other’s shirts, our fingers grazing each other’s skin. Every part of me was singing and I knew this was the best anyone could ever feel.
“I’d better get back,” I whispered. We both held on for a second longer before I pulled away and walked toward the kids.
