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Though it wasn’t snowing, it was still extremely cold out. Gloria grabbed her scarf, her gloves, her coat, and her boots before slinging her purse over her shoulder and stepping out into the brisk wind. She kept her head down, trying not to let the wind chap her poor cheeks, when she noticed something different about her car.
It was… it was taller than it usually was.
Little details like that always stuck out at Gloria. If you asked her how tall her car was, she would give a vague description, maybe gesture with her hand or something. But the second she approached it, she instinctively knew that something was off.
Squatting down, peering closely at the ground, she immediately saw what was different.
Those weren’t her tires. Instead of the old, worn, semi-bald tires she’d been riding on for years, these suckers were brand new. The treads were deeper, and the tire was bigger.
It hit her why in an instant.
Someone had traded her worn wheels for a pair of snow tires.
7
Putting snow tires on her car for her was one of the sweetest things any guy had ever done for Gloria. She knew it had to be Franklin—not only was it a no-brainer, but he left the jack on his porch when he left for work that morning, plus she recognized the bootprints leading back to his cabin as the ones leading to her clear car.
She knew it was Franklin, and all she wanted to do was thank him.
It took three days before she finally caught him coming home late one night. She made sure to have more of her Franklin creation at the ready, and while he accepted the ice cream with more gratitude than he showed last time, he grunted when she tried to say thank you for the tires.
He didn’t say ‘you’re welcome’. Just like when he fixed her car and when she brought him the first Franklin creation she made for him, he brushed off her thanks as if he didn’t need it—or want it.
Gloria shouldn’t let it bother her. He’d already done more for her than he had any reason to. If he didn’t want to accept her gratitude gracefully, that should’ve been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Living in Hamlet was different, especially following another snowfall. There was a limit to how long she could spend inside. While she lived for working with her ice cream makers, there wasn’t much she could do when she ran out of milk and eggs and wanted to wait out the most recent snowstorm before she got more. Her couch was starting
to groove itself around her behind, she spent hours on end watching her television.
Admittedly, Franklin was a distraction. Would he be if he wasn’t so careful to keep everything close to his chest? Gloria didn’t know.
She did know three things: he was kind, he was her neighbor, and he was super cute.
And now, for the first time in three days, she had the chance to talk to him again.
Gloria needed an excuse. She figured that much out about Franklin. If she just went over there because she wanted to thank him for the tires, that would never work.
Then she remembered what his sister had said. If it didn’t have anything to do with a motor or an engine, Franklin wasn’t interested.
Hmm.
That gave her an idea. It was a little bit sneaky, but that’s what made it such a brilliant plan. Her delicious neighbor would never know what hit him.
It was his fault anyway. If he didn’t want to talk to her, that was fine. But how was she supposed to take his kind gesture? It was neighborly, sure, and she wished she could read more into it, but it was how reluctant he was to accept her gratitude that kept her obsessing over him.
Really, he brought it on himself.
When she finally had her own ice cream parlor, Gloria was going to go all in. Zinnor, one of the best commercial ice cream makers on the market. Each unit was two grand easy, and she had her heart set on at least a pair—and that was just for her hard ice cream flavors. She’d need a couple of soft serve machines, too, plus the freezer. Not to mention retail space and, yeah, Gloria was more determined than ever to stick it out in Hamlet.
For now, though, she used a trio of Cuisinart home ice cream machines that she got from Williams Sonoma. Since she wasn’t making any catering orders at the moment, two of the machines were in storage. The last one had a place of honor in her kitchen, taking up one whole counter.
Gloria had this baby for more than five years. It was her first unit, and her favorite. She knew every inch of the machine and taught herself not only how to use it, but how to perform maintenance on it whenever there was a problem.
It was a matter of fifteen seconds and a couple of twists before the whole unit was unusable.
An impish grin tugged at her lips, the loose screw and bolt nestled in her palm. “Whoops.”
