Cherry shakes in the par.., p.1
Cherry Shakes in the Park, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Wendy Kendall
Cherry Shakes in the Park
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Also available from The Wild Rose Press
“Bryson, Vince might have been kidnapped.” Coach’s voice tremored.
“What? That’s crazy.”
Coach leaned against his car. Bryson faced him. “The cops will find him. They’re on the case now.”
Coach put his hand up to his forehead. “What is this about? There’s been no ransom call. They think they found blood. What did Vince get himself into?”
They stood speechless, as the cops worked. Jason and Hobbs left the scene, and the dog jumped back into the car.
Jason came over. “They’re done with me for now. It’s going to be a long night, and there’s nothing either of you can do at this point. They’ll call you as soon as they know more. I suggest you wait at home.”
Coach slowly shook his head. “No, I’ll wait here.”
Jason looked at Bryson, then back at Coach. “Okay. Stay back here while they’re collecting evidence. Good night.”
As they watched his patrol car leave, Bryson got an idea. “Coach, he’s right, there’s nothing you can do for Vince here—”
“I’m not leaving. You go ahead.”
“Listen, you wanted to check out Vince’s laptop. This would be a good time to go to his house. By morning the cops will think of searching there, and they’ll probably put crime scene tape up and not let you in. We can go now.”
Coach slowly straightened up as Bryson’s words sank in. “Good idea.”
Bryson got in his jeep. “I’ll follow you.”
Praise for Wendy Kendall
“Wendy Kendall’s books are the kind you won’t want to put down.”
“Once you read one of Wendy Kendall’s books, you’ll want to read them all.”
“Wendy Kendall paints a picture of small town diabolical dynamics.”
Cherry Shakes in the Park
by
Wendy Kendall
One Scoop or Two Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cherry Shakes in the Park
COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Wendy Kendall
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2022
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4464-5
One Scoop or Two Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
If kisses be the food of love…
Dedicated to The Man,
Paul
Chapter One
Standing at the bottom of the wooden stairs to Ginardo’s ice cream shop, Bryson wished he could shake off his broken heart as easily as he shook the beach sand from his feet. He’d missed Marta from the moment she got on that bus and left him. A rogue wave of sadness hit hard, splashing visions of their walks along the bay in his face.
There on the beach, Marta’s friends waved to him. Naomi stood in the sunshine, up to her knees in water. Next to her, Tara took pictures on her cell phone. The space between them where Marta should be standing reflected the hole in his heart. Bryson waved back. Nice girls, but neither were Marta.
He clenched his fists. Here he was, mid-twenties with plans for this decade of his life. Settling down with his girl, Olympic tryouts and qualifying, sprinting to a medal, product endorsements, and a happy new career. It all crashed and burned a month ago. His broken spirit affected everything, even track times. What do you do when your dreams hit a dead end?
Beautiful Marta, they’d been together since sophomore year of high school. His girl— at least she was for almost a decade. Incredible. Her sexy body with the most tantalizing curves had enticed him at first sight. With her love for the dramatic, and an imagination with no limits, she held the center of attention in every crowd. He longed for their romantic times together. Those lingering kisses, her thick brunette curls he’d wind through his fingers. Bryson missed all of her.
With her last words she’d delivered a brutal hit. “‘I don’t love you anymore. Maybe I never did.”‘
A devastating blow before she boarded the bus to travel, meet new people, and change her life. He didn’t get a chance to convince her not to end it. She was touring all over the state, and he was in Bayside, and it was time for work. Time to put on a happy face. He checked his phone and the wallpaper photo of Marta mocked him. He vowed again not to change it. Maybe Marta wouldn’t find happiness out there. Maybe she’d come back to him.
Pasting a smile on his face, he sprinted up the steps and through the door. Arturo, his friend and boss, stood at the counter scooping ice cream from one of the gelato machines into plastic containers. No doubt these were last minute additions for Bryson to load on the delivery cart. He closed the door and dropped his hiking backpack on the floor. “Ciao, Arturo. Your summer help reporting, ready to serve.”
Arturo paused in his efforts. “You’ve had enough heat on the beach, so you come cool off in my kitchen.” He laughed with a deep rumble that made his belly bounce.
Bryson agreed, “Great weather today.”
His genial Italian friend with the twitching black mustache wore a pristine white apron, as always, over a Ginardo’s logo shirt and khaki pants. “I have something new for you. I’ll fill you in after you get changed.”
“On my way.” Bryson picked up his backpack and headed for the bathroom. He washed up and traded his tank top, ragged shorts, and gritty sandals for a Ginardo’s t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. With the beach clothes loaded in his backpack, he combed his sun-bleached hair. His phone vibrated in his pocket, a text from Ross.
—Hey Roomie. Hot time tonight. Sunset beach bonfire.—
The last one had been fun, with Marta. Could he enjoy one without her? He pocketed the phone and headed for the kitchen. He’d decide about the bonfire later.
Bryson opened the drawer and pulled out insulated gloves, goggles, and tongs. “The keys to the dry ice container and the ice cream bike cart are missing.”
“Oh, yes.” Arturo reached in his pocket and threw them over.
They jingled as Bryson caught them. “Okay, I’m ready for your new orders.”
Arturo finished cleaning the counter and tossed the cloth in the hamper. “I want to add Bayside Beach Park to your route. This weekend, there are some performances there. They set up today, so maybe they want ice cream. The other days you can sell to their audiences.”
Bryson said, “Concerts through Sunday? Cool.”
Arturo walked to the sink full of soaking utensils and leaned against the edge. “I filled extra cartons for you to take.”
Bryson opened the freezer closest to the door and checked his usual shelves for the ice cream to load in his cart. “Any new flavors you want me to try out?”
Arturo pointed to the top shelf. “That tray is my new creation. It holds a dozen cherry shakes. You try one too. Let me know what you think.”
The super thick, creamy shake swirled in circles accenting the dark red of the cherry chunks. The surface sparkled. Bryson sniffed the faint bouquet of cherries fresh off the trees. The scent suggested a hint of that sweet smell of success when he won the intercollegiate track competition. Happy, but weird it could conjure such a vibrant memory. “Thanks. I’ll save it for the park. Great treat after the long ride.”
Arturo said, “Magic and happiness in every sip.”
Bryson’s smile faded fast as he put the shake back on the tray. “Happiness comes and goes.”
Arturo put his hand on Bryson’s shoulder. “You’re missing Marta. I understand, but don’t limit your own happiness.” He gestured to the freezer. “Like all my ice cream flavors, each has its own qualities to savor. You think you’ve tasted the best there is, and then you savor something new. Love the old but be open to the next.”
Bryson shook his head. “Sometimes happiness is out of reach. Like when your store is closed. Then I’m left drooling against the window.” He held up the tray, “But thanks for the cherry shake, and we’ll see how they sell.”
Arturo took one off the tray and held it up as if in a toast. “Cin-cin.”
Bryson went outside to
Handling the dry ice in the outside container was the trickiest part of the set up. Using the mitts and tongs was safer. He opened the thermo-safe chest. The tendrils of mist reached up immediately with a loud pop, followed by a series of crackles. He loaded some into the bike freezer, added ice cream containers from the kitchen, along with the tray of shakes. He unlocked the bike and pedaled away in search of customers, and whatever waited for him at the park.
****
Bryson took his time along the bike lane to Main Street. The warm afternoon enticed kids and adults for ice cream stops. Local friends were regular customers. Kids waited for him at usual meeting points.
The slow downtown activity reflected the lazy summer day. Many empty parking spaces lined the street. People wandered the sidewalks in bright colored shorts, summer shirts, and dresses. There was a spring in people’s sandaled steps, playful kids smiled and laughed, shop doors propped open in a wide open welcome.
Coach stood outside Georgia’s Bayside Bookshop. Bryson’s heart warmed at his close friendship with Coach since his high school track days. The sight of the missing person flier this morning at the ferry terminal flashed to mind, and Bryson steered his bike to the corner. Coach needed a friend now more than ever. Bryson stopped his bike cart at the corner and waved. “Hey, Jeremy.” It always felt so formal to use his name instead of saying Coach.
Methodical, dull footsteps replaced Jeremy’s usual lively swagger. He approached Bryson and gave a quick nod. His eyes were red, his hair wasn’t combed, and his usually clean-shaven face sported a bristly stubble. “Bryson, how’s it going?”
Fear haunted his friend’s darting eyes, deepening Bryson’s concern. “I’m sorry, man.” He pointed to the papers in Jeremy’s hand. “I saw one of your fliers. What happened with your brother? Is he okay?”
Jeremy frowned. “I can’t believe it. Vince has disappeared. No one’s seen him. I can’t get him on his cell phone. Even when he’s busy, he always gets back to me. I’ve tried calls, texts, I’ve been to his house. It sits empty, abandoned, like he hasn’t been there for days, and his old blue truck wasn’t in the driveway.”
Bryson put his hands on his hips. “I can’t imagine how you’re…what you and Rachel are going through…”
Jeremy shook his head. “We try to give each other strength, but each day and each night it gets harder.”
“What are the cops doing?”
Jeremy’s face flushed red. “They took a report, but they said they can’t officially open a missing person case on the information so far. They said nothing I told them indicated Vince was in danger. They checked to see if they had any incidents of robbery or anything with a victim that sounded like they could be Vince, but nothing was found. They said they’d advise their patrol cops about my report. I’m not going to rely on some paperwork to find my brother. That’s why I’m out here. Last I knew Vince was downtown working on an audit. I’m checking in with store owners to see if anyone saw him or has some clue to where he is. I’m talking to everyone.”
Bryson said, “Any leads?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Not much. I found out Vince got a take-out lunch from Stephen’s Fish and Chips. I haven’t talked to Stephen yet. Some other people saw Vince in the morning and said hello. They said everything seemed normal.”
Bryson moved his bike cart forward out of the way of the crosswalk, as a couple walked by. “Who was he auditing?”
“In a text Monday morning, he said it was a busy day, and he mentioned a couple of his appointments. One was at Georgia’s bookshop. I was just going in to talk to her about seeing him and ask if I could put up a flier. I’m posting them all over town. Vince’s other appointment was at Frank’s antique shop. I talked to him already. He said Vince was there by mid-afternoon on Monday with a report to sign. Frank’s selling his store. Vince went over the audit report with him, gave him a copy, and left. Unfortunately, Vince didn’t say anything to Frank about where he was going.”
Bryson shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s a mystery.”
Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled on the screen. “Here’s my last texts with Vince back on Monday. He was coming over for dinner. See? He’s talking about Cissy’s teddy bear he’s bringing with him. She left it at his place Sunday when we stopped by, and he knew it would upset her to be without it.”
Bryson ignored the screen, and looked at his friend’s downcast eyes. “Everyone knows Cissy loves that bear. She carries it everywhere and holds it up to get people to smell the stuffed daisy it holds.”
Jeremy almost laughed. “When Rachel first splashed a couple of drops of her rose oil on that daisy, I laughed so hard, but Cissy loved it. Anyway, Vince’s last text says he’s bringing the bear to dinner around 6:00. He never showed.”
Bryson scratched his head. “What time was that?” Jeremy turned the phone so he could see. “Monday morning, huh. 8:26. And you responded just after 9:00.”
Jeremy put the phone back in his pocket. “All the rest is me trying to reach him Monday night. Listen, I have to go. I want to check with some more people.”
Bryson didn’t know what to say. Nothing would comfort Coach. “I’ll keep an eye out for Vince, or for an old blue truck. If I find anything, I’ll call you. He’ll get found.”
Jeremy attempted a brief smile. “Thanks. His truck has a bumper sticker for his company, Slater’s Inc. - Accounting Is Our Business.”
Jeremy gave him a weak wave as he turned and walked back to the bookshop. Bryson decided, after all the help Coach had given him over the years, now was the time he needed to help Coach.
Bryson rode down the block, then started up the hill to the library lot. The long, steep incline challenged his sprinter leg muscles over the length of more than a mile. The heavy cart on the front of the bike kept him slow, as he strained to make it nonstop to the top. Win or lose, at the library he’d park in the shade for a break and sell to library patrons and volunteers. He marked another loss as he stopped short of the top, out of breath. He hadn’t successfully made it since Marta had said goodbye.
The first out of the library was Cynthia. It wasn’t often the head librarian stopped by.
“Hi, Bryson. How are you doing with this heat?”
“Hi, Cynthia. Nice to see you. It’s okay. Summer’s my favorite time of year. How about an ice cream?”
“Yes, for me, and I’m treating my staff. It’s very slow this afternoon. Everyone in Bayside is either outside or on vacation, I guess.”
“What flavor would you like? I’ve got Arturo’s award-winning spumoni, the pistachio, chocolate raspberry, tartufo, or maybe you prefer a rich vanilla?”
“I’m a chocolate gal. That chocolate raspberry sounds super.”
Bryson held his tools at the ready, poised to open the lid of the cart. “One scoop or two?”
“One is plenty for me to work off at the gym later. Thanks. Here’s my credit card number. I’ll send everyone out.”
Bryson served up cones to Cynthia’s group of eight. As the last of them walked away, the cherry shake tempted him. Instead, his metal water bottle in the bike holder delivered a long, satisfying drink. A quick check of his phone for the latest on social media, and time to hit the road again. He remembered to check the parking lot, no blue trucks.
He kept a watch for Vince or his vehicle while riding the winding residential streets that looped back to Parkway beach. Instead of the sunbathers and families on the sand by Ginardo’s, this place appealed to hikers. The jagged coastline echoed splashing waves against boulders. A short trail boasted some of the prettiest views in the region. Bryson sometimes made good sales at the trail head, but not today. He knew Vince was big on hiking, but no blue truck here either.
On the way to Bayside Park, there was a designated dog beach where owners could exercise their pets off leash. Not a usual stop on his route, Bryson steered that way in hopes of finding a hungry crowd. He stopped on the sidewalk and sat on his bike, mesmerized by the gleeful, tail-wagging animals dancing in the surf. They barked, and the owners laughed and talked. Dogs fetched sticks and balls from the water, dug in the sand, and raced along the water’s edge with the energy of kids in pursuit of his ice cream cart.
It didn’t take long for pet owners to notice him. Adults handed kids money and gestured toward him. Some adults headed his way too, with dogs back on leash. The cones were a hit.
