Page 6 of The Deal Maker

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.

---