“Hmpf. You know what I mean.” Terra rolls her eyes as we wait for a car to pass to cross the street. “She needs a distraction. She’s spending way too much time planning this wedding. I just want simple, you know? Small guest list. On the beach at sunset. Then a party at the restaurant. She’s talking about a band and a harpist on the beach. Harpist? Like what the fuck?”
I laugh and Terra shoots me a death stare. There’s a line at Patti’s that’s right out the door. She’s usually very busy in the summer, which is why we offer to come get the ice cream instead of asking her to deliver like she does in the other seasons, but this is extreme. The line is all the way down the block. Terra and I exchange baffled looks.
“Let’s use the staff entrance,” I suggest since we aren’t here for cones ourselves, although I was toying with the idea of a milkshake. That’s not in the cards with this line though. Terra puts down the cooler and pulls open the door that leads into the room filled with freezers. It’s empty. We step inside.
We can hear the rumble of chatter and then there’s clapping, so I get curious and walk towards the plexiglass rectangular window on the far wall that looks into the ice cream parlor. It’s the busiest I’ve ever seen it in all my life. Every table and every booth are filled and there isn’t an inch of standing space either. Most of the customers are wearing Boston hockey shirts, hats, or jerseys, which is very odd. Behind the counter I see the back of Patti’s head and four staff members. But no one seems to be serving ice cream.
“What’s going on?” Terra asks. She’s too short to see through the high window so she grabs my arm and tugs me. “Well let’s find out.”
She pulls me toward the door that opens into the small hallway, then pulls me left a few short steps so we’re in the soda fountain. The mayor and his wife are on one side and Robbie and his parents are on the other. “Hey!” Robbie says smiling. “You guys here for the dedication too?”
“Dedication?”
“Patti created a new ice cream flavor that she’s naming after Abbott Barlowe,” Robbie’s mom, Mrs. Ellis says. “I’m so glad she did this before we moved to Florida. I would have hated to miss this. I’m the biggest Abbott Barlowe fan in this town!”
Mrs. Ellis moves her arms sweepingly about her body, proudly displaying her t-shirt, her baseball cap, and her socks, all of which have Abbott Barlowe’s name and jersey number on them. Her socks have his face printed all over them. She turns back to Robbie. “Don’t forget you promised to get me his Riptide gear once it’s available.”
“It’ll probably come out before you move, Mom,” Robbie says and he looks sullen. “But don’t worry, I’ll ship you some if it comes to that.”
I had no idea Robbie’s parents were moving, but it would explain why he’s seemed a little depressed lately.
“Here it is!” Patti announces loudly as she holds up a giant tub of ice cream. The nine hundred bangle bracelets she always wears jangle loudly. It’s actually kind of shocking how she seems to lift the heavy tub, which is a half-gallon, with such ease considering how tiny and frail Patti appears. “I have two names I’m still considering for it and I thought I would let you all vote. So if you order a cone or sundae or milkshake with the Abbott Barlowe flavor you get to cast a vote on the name.”
When we were in the back, I thought it was four employees with her, but it’s actually three employees and the man of honor standing behind the counter. Abbott is smiling what I always used to call his Colgate smile. It’s sweet and bright and perfect. The man could sell wood to a forest with that smile.
Patti turns to him as she places the tub in one of the freezers. “Any thoughts, Mr. Stanley Cup?”
“Speech! Speech!” the crowd around me chants.
“Well, I want to say thank you,” Abbott says, still smiling, and his right hand lands on his chest over his heart. “I dared to dream I would one day win a Cup but I never dared to believe I would get my own ice cream flavor.”
Everyone laughs and his grin deepens and I find myself wanting to smile too. He looks so genuinely happy and Abbott in pure joy mode is infectious. Always has been. I swear, before I was officially diagnosed with depression, his happiness was my only medication. When I was around him and he looked at me like I was the sun in the sky, the warmth in his heart, the fire in his soul, it kept me going. And that’s both scary and sad to admit. No one should need someone else that much.
“Seriously, the last time Patti named a flavor after someone was in the eighties,” Abbott tells the crowd.
“Stephen King Killer Dark Chocolate Massacre,” Patti calls out and everyone claps again.
My mouth waters. It is a really good flavor. Abbott turns to her and bows. “I’m honored to be honored by you and this town that I love so much. Your soda fountain brought me endless joy as a kid. I loved hanging out here and eating banana splits with my best friend Declan and trying new cone flavors after practice with my sister Aspy.”
Terra’s head snaps up to look at me. I stare at Abbott. Does he know I’m here? Is that why he said my name? But he doesn’t even look my way in the crowd. He’s focused on something right in front of him. I follow his gaze and realize it’s Aspen and her daughter. “This place was and always will be a bigger, better part of Ocean Pines than I am. I am forever humbled. Thanks, Patti. And I hope you guys all swing by the Hawkins Lobster Shack next month to see the Cup and celebrate. We’ll be serving this very flavor of ice cream too.”
“We will?” I mutter because this is the first I’ve heard of it. I turn and look at Aspen in the crowd who is beaming at her brother.
“You know Aspy, she’ll tell you eventually,” Terra says and pats my shoulder in sympathy. “Now you see why this was too much for me to handle.”
“You’re trying to turn me back into Bitchtastic Declan, aren’t you?” I mutter and her hand lands on my shoulder again and she squeezes. When I glance down at her, the freckles across the bridge of her nose are mushed together and her eyes look pained.
“Declan, we never thought of you as bitchtastic,” she says softly. “You had your overbearing moments and you could be as stubborn as a drunk donkey, but we loved you. Then and now. Are you… are you worried that we don’t want old Deck back?”
“I don’t want old Deck back,” I reply but before she can react to that, the crowd erupts in cheers.
I look up to see Patti has scooped a big ball of the new ice cream flavor and she’s putting it in a bowl for Abbott to taste. She hands it to him with a spoon. “Now we did some serious research on this. We talked to your sister about what you like and I even went so far as to consult old employees who worked here when you were a teen.”
“That would be me!” a high, excited female voice booms through the crowd.
“Get up here, Stacy!” Patti motions wildly, her bracelets clanging like church bells.
A second later Stacy is standing behind the counter too and I’m instantly transported back to high school. She looks exactly the same as she did then. Long brown hair and big doe-like eyes. Her lipstick is probably even the same shade. And then my thoughts go back to that Founder’s Night when she was making out with Abbott. Right before I was making out with Abbott. When he wraps her in a warm embrace a second later, jealousy cloaks my heart.
