asked.
The guy nodded. ‘Yeah. Been open two months. Business is a bit quiet right now – should have listened to everyone when they told me not to open an ice-cream store going into winter.’ He shrugged.
Mel surreptitiously slipped off her ring for a moment, instantly registering the wave of worry from the young store owner and seeing a wall covered in overdue bills. She closed her eyes for a moment – taking a bite of ice cream at the same time to cover the action – so she could see into the future. What she saw was a line of customers out on the street. Something to do with . . .
‘Do you have frozen yoghurt?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, a small selection, but I was thinking of expanding it.’
‘You definitely should. And soup. For winter.’
He gave her a puzzled but pleased smile. ‘Funny you should say that, I’ve just been working on some soup ideas.’
Mel leaned close to the counter. ‘Your father’s minestrone will be a hit.’
His jaw dropped a little. ‘Um, right. Wow, yeah, I haven’t thought about that in years. I wonder where the recipe is?’
‘Your mother has it. I mean, she probably does. You should ask her.’
‘Uh, yeah. Okay.’
‘What was that about?’ Michael asked as soon as they left the shop. They began to wander back towards the beach where Michael had parked the car.
Oops. Too carried away with how good she was feeling, she forgot Michael was watching and didn’t know about her abilities. She’d have done the same thing if Aunt Gertrude had been with her and wouldn’t have thought twice. Her comfort with Michael was the problem – she forgot that he didn’t
really
know her.
‘Just a little business advice.’
‘Yeah but how did you know about his father’s soup recipe?’
‘Read about it in the paper,’ Mel improvised.
‘But —’
‘The place got reviewed,’ Mel continued, bluffing. ‘Best ice cream in Melbourne, apparently. By the way, exactly how much ice cream do you eat?’ She needed to change the subject.
Michael studied her, but seemed to decide to go with her. ‘It’s my favourite – I could have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I eat a lot of ice cream.’
Mel poked him in the stomach and was rewarded with her finger bouncing off his tight abdomen.
‘Enough to keep me going to the gym,’ he said with a quirk of his mouth.
They walked past Luna Park and across the road until they were both finishing off their treats in front of the sand of St Kilda beach. The wind had picked up and as Mel popped the last bite of waffle cone in her mouth she hugged her jacket more tightly around herself.
‘Cold?’ Michael asked.
She shrugged and swallowed. ‘The wind.’
‘And the ice cream in your belly.’
‘That, too.’
He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her back against the warmth of his body.
For a moment Mel stood still, unsure what to do. With his body pressed against her, it was like back in the corridor at yoga – almost all her rational-thinking capacities vanished. She’d lie down here on the boardwalk and make love with him until they were both sated – or the police were called, whichever came first. But, also like at yoga, there was something that held her back.
Michael’s lips pressed against her ear. ‘You’re trembling,’ he whispered.
‘Cold,’ she said, because everything else was way too complicated.
There was a beat of silence; they both stood watching the people walking past, the seagulls squabbling nearby.
‘I know what I’d like to do next,’ he said. ‘But only if it’s okay with you.’ He didn’t need to spell it out.
Mel hesitated. But only for a moment. Wasn’t this exactly what Aunt Gertrude had encouraged? For her to get out and exercise her ‘shrivelled up lady parts’? It was hard to admit, but it
had
been too long. And the fire that Michael stoked inside her demanded to be fed. ‘You live nearby, right?’
‘Five minutes in the
The guy nodded. ‘Yeah. Been open two months. Business is a bit quiet right now – should have listened to everyone when they told me not to open an ice-cream store going into winter.’ He shrugged.
Mel surreptitiously slipped off her ring for a moment, instantly registering the wave of worry from the young store owner and seeing a wall covered in overdue bills. She closed her eyes for a moment – taking a bite of ice cream at the same time to cover the action – so she could see into the future. What she saw was a line of customers out on the street. Something to do with . . .
‘Do you have frozen yoghurt?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, a small selection, but I was thinking of expanding it.’
‘You definitely should. And soup. For winter.’
He gave her a puzzled but pleased smile. ‘Funny you should say that, I’ve just been working on some soup ideas.’
Mel leaned close to the counter. ‘Your father’s minestrone will be a hit.’
His jaw dropped a little. ‘Um, right. Wow, yeah, I haven’t thought about that in years. I wonder where the recipe is?’
‘Your mother has it. I mean, she probably does. You should ask her.’
‘Uh, yeah. Okay.’
‘What was that about?’ Michael asked as soon as they left the shop. They began to wander back towards the beach where Michael had parked the car.
Oops. Too carried away with how good she was feeling, she forgot Michael was watching and didn’t know about her abilities. She’d have done the same thing if Aunt Gertrude had been with her and wouldn’t have thought twice. Her comfort with Michael was the problem – she forgot that he didn’t
really
know her.
‘Just a little business advice.’
‘Yeah but how did you know about his father’s soup recipe?’
‘Read about it in the paper,’ Mel improvised.
‘But —’
‘The place got reviewed,’ Mel continued, bluffing. ‘Best ice cream in Melbourne, apparently. By the way, exactly how much ice cream do you eat?’ She needed to change the subject.
Michael studied her, but seemed to decide to go with her. ‘It’s my favourite – I could have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I eat a lot of ice cream.’
Mel poked him in the stomach and was rewarded with her finger bouncing off his tight abdomen.
‘Enough to keep me going to the gym,’ he said with a quirk of his mouth.
They walked past Luna Park and across the road until they were both finishing off their treats in front of the sand of St Kilda beach. The wind had picked up and as Mel popped the last bite of waffle cone in her mouth she hugged her jacket more tightly around herself.
‘Cold?’ Michael asked.
She shrugged and swallowed. ‘The wind.’
‘And the ice cream in your belly.’
‘That, too.’
He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her back against the warmth of his body.
For a moment Mel stood still, unsure what to do. With his body pressed against her, it was like back in the corridor at yoga – almost all her rational-thinking capacities vanished. She’d lie down here on the boardwalk and make love with him until they were both sated – or the police were called, whichever came first. But, also like at yoga, there was something that held her back.
Michael’s lips pressed against her ear. ‘You’re trembling,’ he whispered.
‘Cold,’ she said, because everything else was way too complicated.
There was a beat of silence; they both stood watching the people walking past, the seagulls squabbling nearby.
‘I know what I’d like to do next,’ he said. ‘But only if it’s okay with you.’ He didn’t need to spell it out.
Mel hesitated. But only for a moment. Wasn’t this exactly what Aunt Gertrude had encouraged? For her to get out and exercise her ‘shrivelled up lady parts’? It was hard to admit, but it
had
been too long. And the fire that Michael stoked inside her demanded to be fed. ‘You live nearby, right?’
‘Five minutes in the
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