2. Duke
TWO
DUKE
Have I always wanted to see a flash mob in person? Yes.
Check that one off the bucket list. The fact it’s for a proposal is even more interesting. The amount of work that went into the choreography and all that is impressive.
The song is one of those romantic ones women always put on their future wedding playlist, and while I wouldn’t have chosen a song from this century to propose to someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, everyone in the crowd looks pleased.
A guy comes from the back and kneels down, asking the excited woman to be his wife. There are the customary tears and she says yes before they embrace. It’s not until I take a step to the right that I recognize the woman as Hope Stevens. We’d graduated the same year. Although we didn’t hang out a lot then, I’d learned a lot from her mother during my short stint as a real estate agent six months ago. She’d also hooked me up with the office space next to The Candy Jar.
I turn to look at the woman a few feet from her. Maggie Dean.
We have a love-to-hate kind of relationship. Not really from my side. I’m just good at pushing her buttons.
I study her face, wondering how she feels about this scene. I remember the first time I met Maggie. It was the summer when I was ten and me and my friends had built a fort in the tree out back of my parents’ house. We shared a backyard fence with Hope’s family and Maggie was staying for the summer.
She and Hope were dressed up as brides, in dresses and with what looked like handkerchiefs covering their faces.
Right now, Maggie looks like she’s trying to smile, and I wonder what’s going through her head. The little I’ve heard about why Maggie is here on a more permanent basis was that something happened with a previous relationship. Now I’m even more curious, which means my brain is trying to come up with made up scenarios.
Her ex-boyfriend died from choking on food at dinner. Maybe he decided to scale Mt. Everest and she didn’t want to join him.
Just another reason my vivid imagination has a hard time sticking to one career. It’s the biggest imperfection on my mother’s life list. She doesn’t have a son who’s willing to take over the family business and also has no real direction in his life.
I don’t want to dwell on that right now. My mind is more curious about Maggie’s background.
The mob claps and then disperses, which reminds me I need to open the store. It would’ve been better to be open before the proposal happened, so I could talk to several people walking by, but I’d watched instead of working. Typical Duke.
Someone told me that watching is learning once and I must’ve taken it to heart too much.
The newly engaged couple is still hugging outside. Hope ends up leaving with her fiancé, and Maggie is nowhere to be found.
Willow Cove is only so big, even with the influx of tourists every summer and to make this business work, I have to be constantly talking to people, trying to set up appointments for them to learn about the amazing travel perks that come with timeshares.
It’s a new adventure, but there are strings attached to this one. I’m a serial careerist, if you will. I work at one job for several months until I move onto the next one, sometimes by my choice. Starting my own franchise business is a first, but I was able to give my grandpa enough data and a promise to check in often about my progress, that he loaned me enough money to get started.
Now I’ll just have to pay back the loan from him and then start saving to buy points in the timeshare. I’ve had the travel itch since college, when we would take road trips on the weekends to everything we could drive to. Buying points with DreamTime Vacations will allow me to plan trips to places I’ve always wanted to see.
I know, many people look at me like I'm the bad guy, that I'm out to swindle people for money and that they'll rarely use what points they have. I’ve already gotten that argument several times from my parents and other family members. But my goal is to travel the world, and what better way to do it than to share with people how I've been able to vacation on these timeshare points. It’s a win-win.
Have I actually been to that many places yet? No, but I'm hoping to change that soon. We never went anywhere growing up, since my parents were more homebodies and avoided enormous crowds like their lives depended on it. They own a wedding boutique in town called The Bridal Barn and have done a lot to make this the wedding destination spot on the East coast. Maybe that's why I'm obsessed with seeing fresh places.
I’ve gotten a lot of heat for wanting to escape Willow Cove. The beauty of it and all the things to do, with the bonus being that we're only steps from the ocean and beach, have been enough for my family.
But I need to see what’s outside of this place more than just the few years I attended college. The world is full of so many amazing things to see. It’s like an itch I’m desperately trying to scratch, but my bank account says I can travel to the backyard.
That’s what happens when I bounce from one job to the next, trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. My friends have things figured out. King, owner of the surf shop, will be engaged any day. Coop has his flying business, and even Beck has a grown-up job in construction around town. Perry will probably be on the water until he’s eighty, bringing in fresh fish.
Me? I’ve had at least six jobs this year alone, if I don’t count the one-week stints.
I wheel in my last few boxes of pamphlets when my cousin Frank calls. "I need my truck back. My shift is almost over, and I've got to head to my other job."
That’s another thing about this town. We’re few in numbers in the off-season, but once summer hits, our population shoots into the thousands. That usually means we have several seasonal workers or that each Willow Cove resident has several jobs to keep things running. Summer comes and there’s no time for relaxation, not even on the impeccable beach tourists enjoy.
"I'll head out right now." The drive there only takes me about ten minutes. It’s usually less but I had to wait for the Mama Duck and her line of ducklings to cross the road.
Once I get to Frank’s mechanic shop, I hand him the keys. “Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it.”
He chuckles. “I bet. Trying to fit everything on your scooter or in the back of your old Corolla would be something to see.”
“The only reason she still runs is because of you, man,” I say, tapping my card on the scanner to pay for the minor repair. At least it wasn’t major this time. It’s getting to the point where I’m going to have to decide if it’s worth spending more than the car is worth on repairs.
I pick up my small Corolla that I've had since the dawn of time, or rather the dawn of my driving abilities, and head back. I have one guy on shift right now, but midday is the best time to start getting people who are out for lunch. Witty’s and the bakery are a great draw for a crowd.
I'm walking back past The Candy Jar when I see Maggie cleaning the front doors. The smart thing to do would be to walk the few more steps next door and get started on my setup. But my brain keeps coming up with scenarios for her reaction to the proposal and needs to get some more details to fill in the fantasy.
I open the door and there's a ring that sounds an awful lot like an ice cream truck. Clever marketing.
"What happened now?" Maggie asks, frowning when she sees me.
I raise my hands as if I’m in some sort of western duel. “Can’t a guy come into a candy shop?”
Maggie shook her head. “No. Not if your name is Duke Jacobson.”
I fold my arms over my chest and say, “Wait a minute. I didn’t see a sign on the door that I’ve been banned.”
“A temporary oversight on my part. Is there something you need? I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
It would be easy to point out that the shop is empty right now, but from the tired look on her face, I’d say my life will be a lot longer if I keep my mouth shut.
"Yes, I'd love moose tracks in a cone."
She raises an eyebrow and then says, “You’re one of those, huh?”
I’m trying to figure out what she means while she puts on one of those flimsy plastic gloves. “I think I missed it. Is there supposed to be meaning in the flavor?”
I’m not big into the news or op-ed pieces. Maybe there’s a new quiz out there I haven’t yet tried. I’ve taken all the job-related ones and I already know how that’s going.
“Moose tracks are basically vanilla with little peanut butter cups in them.”
“There’s also a swirl of fudge in there,” I say, peeking through the glass to look at the container. Is she hating on peanut butter cups?
“It doesn’t matter. It’s like the safest option outside of ordering straight vanilla.”
I didn’t know I was going to be getting a psychological evaluation on my ice cream choices today, but okay.
“People with peanut allergies would disagree.” I stick my hands in my pants pockets and study her. She’s focused on slipping on the other glove.
“One scoop or two?”
“Two.” I haven’t had lunch yet and I figure I might as well get two of my “safe choice” to nurse my wounds. Moose tracks is my favorite ice cream of all time. There’s the chocolate swirl and the peanut butter cups with vanilla ice cream that just meld together in perfection.
But now I’m doubting my life choices..
“What does mint chip mean?” I say, curious.
She has to dig at the moose tracks because the container is nearly empty. I want to say that there must be quite a few people in Willow Cove who like this flavor, but then again, it could’ve been sitting there for a while when other flavors changed out.
“It’s two steps above moose tracks.” She presses the scoop down on top of the other and I’m pretty sure this will satisfy lunch and dinner from the size of it. Okay, to be honest, it’s just a light snack for me.
I lean my elbow on the glass and ask, “How many levels are there?” I have to admit, I’m interested in this whole sliding scale of ice cream options. Does she think of them as tarot cards or something?
“Ten. One is boring, vanilla. Ten is exciting and adventurous.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t, focusing on what it takes to get one more scoop onto my already full waffle cone.
“So, number ten is chocolate?”
She puckers out her lips like a duck, an expression that I can read loud and clear as, “Are you an idiot?”
“Chocolate is level two.”
Sighing, I should really just take the ice cream cone she’s now handing me, pay, and be done with this. I’ve got a quota to hit in the office space next door, but I can’t stop asking questions.
“Okay, I’m invested. Tell me this whole scale and how you came up with it.”
Maggie narrows her gaze at me and then shuts the door to the ice cream containers. “When I was a teenager, I worked at an ice cream shop. I got to know a lot about people from their choices.” She turns and throws the plastic glove into the garbage can. “There are the basics at the bottom of the scale, and then the addition of flavors and toppings ups the overall adventure level of the person.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So, peanuts bump the level up to four?”
She shakes her head. “Nuts are a nine.” She looks at me again and walks over to the ice cream freezer and starts pointing, giving various numbers that I will never remember.
“I didn’t hear a ten here.” Maybe I’m looking for trouble, but this is the most fun I’ve had today.
“That’s because it’s niche. Getting three flavors of ice cream that are all different, but none of the basics will boost you to a ten.”
“What if someone took three basic flavors and jazzed them up with whipping cream, maraschino cherries, and nuts? Does that spin it to a ten?”
Maggie shakes her head again and says, “No, that would be a four.”
I frown, trying to understand this logic. She might have to draw me a diagram of where everything falls at this rate. “I thought nuts were a nine.”
“Only when they’re part of the ice cream. Toppings only add half a point.”
What the? I’m both curious and shocked at how in-depth this ice cream chart is. Maybe she should create a diagram or something to give a better visual. Then again, it might just be as confusing as it already is.
I turn my head a bit to look at her out of the corner of my eye and say, “And that’s going to signal the ultimate adventure of the person ordering? How did you test your theory?”
She sighs and says, “I grew up in a moderate sized town, but I knew most of the people. It wasn’t hard to make the comparisons because of it.”
“Does anyone else know about this theory?”
“My mother and Hope.”
Her admission surprises me. “I’m glad I could be included in such a prestigious club.”
Her eyes widen and something about the light blue of them has me staring. Like an idiot.
Shaking my head, I say, “What did you think of the flash mob? I bet Hope is excited to get married. What’s the guy’s name again? Jonathan?”
“It’s Jason,” she says, turning to walk to the cash register. “That will be eight-fifty.”
“And?”
“And what?” she asks, leveling me with a glare. I’m not quite sure what I’ve done to ruffle her feathers this much. Okay, so I did move their sign a few inches so I could plug in my small lightboard that highlights some of the packages we offer. I definitely got an earful because of that.
Sometimes I wonder if she dislikes me because we breathe the same air, but I’ve never been more curious about what makes Maggie Dean tick than hearing about an ice cream adventure scale.
I tap my card against the scanner and shake my head when she offers the receipt. “Do you think Hope will stick around after she gets married?”
Maggie frowns. “That seems like a deeply personal question.” Her cheeks redden, as if she’s just remembering this very in-depth conversation we’ve had. “And she just got engaged. I’m not sure quitting the business we just started is at the top of her decision list.”
“I apologize. Thanks for the moose tracks. I’ll remember this for the next time I come in.”
Her lips turn into a thin line, and I chuckle as I walk out the door.
My life hasn’t been too exciting lately, but I have a feeling things are about to change.