‘I couldn’t imagine otherwise. How are your parents, Molly?’
‘The usual: Mom’s spending vacation working all through the night, and Dad’s threatening her with a heart attack by saying he’s doing nothing but watchingFrasierre-runs.’
‘And yours, Finn?’ Soraya caught herself, emitting a tiny gasp of horror at the faux pas. ‘Your mom, I mean. Oh, I’m sorry.’
After an almost imperceptible pause, Finn waved her off, making a show of being busy inspecting the endless tubs of toppings. ‘It’s fine. It’s not like it’s illegal to remember thathe existed. And we’re doing great. You know Mom: she’s keeping busy with house stuff and her baking. And Noah’s multi-tasking between law school and his art.’
I waited for Finn to add what he was up to, but he didn’t. Whatwashe up to, I wondered? Rosie had said he wasn’t studying, and Noah had made a few jibes about his late nights. But Finn always seemed to be doingsomething. I’d always had the sense that he was busy, but now that I thought about it … busy withwhat, exactly?
But did it matter, really? He’d lost his dad less than a year ago. Surely he deserved some compassion and some downtime while he figured things out. It wasn’t like he was going to spend his entire life noodling around on a guitar or partying.
But even if he did, was that such a big deal? Was it so wrong to just enjoy your life? After all, I didn’t have any great, grand dreams, and that was fine, wasn’t it?
But then I thought about how Lara had pressed about the job at her firm, and I wondered whether maybe it wasn’t.
Thankfully, Soraya interrupted my thoughts. I was always happy to be interrupted by ice cream.
‘So, will it be the usual?’ Soraya asked teasingly. She knew exactly how the ice-cream-choosing ordeal was about to go down.
I nodded shamefacedly.
‘Can I try …’ I began, trailing off in indecision.
As though I’d spoken a series of magic words, Soraya grabbed a handful of wooden sample spoons, scooping some of each flavour onto each spoon and passing them to me one by one.
Finn chuckled as I licked each flavour, then passed what was left on the spoon to him. ‘I still can’t believe you tryeveryflavour every time.’
‘It’s so hard to choose! I know I love the chocolate coconut, but what if I’m not in the mood? And how do I know if the strawberry sorbet is going to combine well with the Biscoff?’
‘And then there are all the toppings,’ mused Finn. ‘What if gummy frogs don’t pair properly with sour Skittles? Then what, Molly? Then what?’
He held up a finger.
‘Soraya, I have the solution. An ice-cream flight. A half scoop of everything,plusevery topping you have on the side. Maybe a whole cup of the caramel syrup.’
Soraya pointed her silver scoop at him. ‘You’re not going to drink a cup of syrup in front of me, are you? Because you wouldn’t be the first.’
Finn shot her one of his famous grins, and I could see her waver under his charm.
Shaking her head, Soraya pulled out a gift-sized jar of her famous syrup from beneath the counter. ‘At least buy one of these instead. Be civilized. Use a spoon.’
She popped two spoons on top of the jar, then started scooping out the ice-cream order into the largest waffle cone I’d ever seen. It was easily the size of a birthday party hat.
But this was part of Soraya’s own magic: no ice cream purchased from The Scoopeversoaked through the cone or dribbled down your arm. No matter how hot the day. We’d all tested it, of course. But however bright the sun or however diligently you attacked it with a cigarette lighter (Finn) or hairdryer (Tiff), the ice cream prevailed.
‘How are we going to eat all of this?’ I marvelled, as scoop after scoop perched increasingly precariously upon the rainbow that preceded it.
‘One bite at a time,’ said Finn cheerfully. ‘But I’ll do three to your one. Deal?’
‘And now for the toppings …’ Soraya put together a separate box of toppings for us so that we could mix and match as we went.
‘This has to be like a hundred bucks’ worth of ice cream,’ I marvelled.
Shrugging, Finn reached into his pocket.
‘Straight from the dead-dad fund,’ he said lightly. ‘Too soon?’ he added as I grimaced.
‘I mean … I think that one’s up to you to decide.’
