They returned to the desk, papers pushed back to make a work surface for the calculator, and scribbled numbers. Lou’s hope disappeared with the bottom line, little by little, until it melted into a lonely black hole. She had to find a way to make this better.
“We barely made black before the review. It was just enough to keep me in green Crocs and polyester chef pants. I don’t see how we’ll turn a profit now.”
Lou stared at the numbers.
“You should close it. Soon. Then take whatever is left and open a new place, like the one you mentioned a few weeks ago. I’ve checked the websites—the trolls are having a field day on BrewCityReviews.”
“Online reviews are a bully’s outlet. Smart people know that.” Lou waved dismissively.
Sue pointed at the computer screen.
“That says differently. It’ll take years to overcome the bad press and troll reviews.”
Biting her lip, Lou moved a stack of receipts into a shoe box on the floor and noticed a sparkle under some papers.
“I have some savings. There’s a little cushion.” She pulled out her engagement ring. “Maybe I could sell this. And I’ve contacted a few banks for loans. That should get us through. We can stay open. And who knows—a miracle could happen.”
She stacked the papers and turned off the computer. Sue leaned back in her chair, watching Lou struggle to keep it together. Lou blinked several times, then stood.
“I guess we can head out.”
“Hot date?” asked Sue with a smirk on her face. She always knew what to say to change up Lou’s emotions. Lou smiled and wiped away an errant tear.
“You know it isn’t a date. I’m merely a tour guide to the many delights of Milwaukee.”
“Do they include the ones in your bedroom?”
“No.” Lou’s face pinkened. “I’m not ready for that.”
“But fun to think about.”
Lou remembered Al’s arms when he caught her at the bar, and his soft, smiling lips.
“Yes, definitely fun to think about.”
“Where’re you taking him?”
“We’re starting with the basics, beer and cheese.”
Lou grabbed her coat and keys, leaving Sue to lock up the restaurant and hoping for a few hours of fun and distraction. The preoccupation of planning their outing had helped her through the rough two weeks since she’d seen him last, like the weeks leading up to Christmas as a child: waiting in the glow of Christmas lights for dawn to break, guessing what might be wrapped under the tree, hoping for the mini kitchen she had dreamed of playing with ever since she saw it in the Sears Christmas catalog. Her mom would distract her with Christmas jobs such as draping silver tinsel on the bottom tree branches, frosting cookies shaped like reindeer and snowflakes, and hanging the bright red stocking on the mantel, a promise of goodies to come.
All the dreams and guesses and preparation made the anticipation so sweet, almost better than unwrapping the gifts themselves. That was what this nondate with Al felt like. Would he look as good as she remembered through the cider-fueled fog? Would she want to see him again? Could he appreciate the charms of Milwaukee? She knew she’d get the answer to that final one. She had picked the best custard stand in the city as his test. If he could enjoy the simple but satisfying joys of a classic Wisconsin butterburger and creamy custard, then he might be worth the time.
Lou opened her car door and could smell the restaurant wafting off her clothes. She needed to shower and change. A frivolous afternoon spending time with someone completely unrelated to her work life would be the ideal distraction from the impending war.
• • • • •
Al whistled as he walked toward Lake Michigan where he would meet Lou for their first outing. He whistled? When was the last time he whistled? She had texted him a few days ago. It said:
Lesson 1—The Basics
11:30 am Monday
Northpoint Custard
Meet me at Daisy.
Northpoint Custard was one of the many custard stands in Wisconsin that served burgers, fried sides, and frozen custard. In his short time in Milwaukee, he had heard a lot about frozen custard but hadn’t tried it yet. It sounded a lot like ice cream, so his curiosity and anticipation soared. Perhaps his anticipation derived from the who, not just the what. Lou popped up often in his daydreams: her warm eyes, creamy skin, even her scars. Where were those from? Not many women could pull off the drunken-mess look, but Lou had been adorable and charming and a bit intoxicating. And the cake—he couldn’t forget the smell of that coconut cake.
The sun almost burned after so many days without it. Al walked on the sidewalk following the shoreline, ignoring the blister forming on his heel from the stiff shoes he wore. He’d never walked the lakefront before, but it seemed the appropriate way to start his time with Lou. The custard stand was a little north of the marina. The area swarmed with kite fliers, walkers with dogs, and adorable elderly couples walking hand in hand. Outside of the breakwater, he could see a handful of brave souls sailing their boats for the first time this season on the chilly spring waters. It might have felt like seventy degrees to him, but it was much colder past the rocks.
While two weeks had passed since he last saw her, but his encounter with Lou had stuck and grown, like his memories of summer camp. As a child, he would forget the awkward moments and bad food once back at home, the memories growing more golden with each passing day. After two weeks, he knew he had inflated the memory of Lou beyond reasonable expectations. Would she still smell like vanilla? Would the freckles on her nose still dance when she smiled? Would his memory implode when faced with the reality?
He saw the custard stand’s red awnings up ahead, nestled among several large, old trees. Lou had instructed him to meet her at Daisy. As he crossed the last street and approached the custard stand, her meaning became obvious. Every table and bench was painted to look like a Holstein cow—white with black spots—each with an appropriately bovine name like Bessie or Maisy painted on its surface. Sure enough, Lou waited, fingers tapping and feet dancing, at the table named Daisy.
His feet moved faster as he took in the sight of her. She fit right in with her basic blue jeans, simple V-neck brown T-shirt, and tan Converse sneakers. She dressed casually, but Al couldn’t help admiring how the brown T-shirt offset her pale, creamy skin and the sun found bits of red in her long hair. He hadn’t seen her with her hair combed before and he liked it. It looked soft, smooth, and free, like she didn’t use hair spray or gel—touchable. He stopped in front of her.
“You’re late,” Lou said. “I’m glad I didn’t order when I got here fifteen minutes ago. Our food would be cold.” She tried to scowl, but Al could see the corner of her mouth twitch. She looked him up and down and said, “You’re a bit dressed up for a custard stand on the lake. You look like Tim Gunn on vacation.”
Al looked down at his front-creased khaki dress pants, his tucked-in navy blue polo over a white T-shirt with a matching belt and shoes. True, no one would mistake him for a native Milwaukeean on his way to have a burger and shake at the beach. He even moved with a stiffness from too many hours spent hunched in front of a computer.
He shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. So you can show me the fantastic Milwaukee and make me a convert.”
Lou’s freckles danced and his chest lightened. He had had it all wrong. His memories were dim compared to the reality.
Lou stood and said, “I’ll order a little of everything to share so you can get a good cross section. Save our spot. Is there anything you really don’t like?”
“Not at all; I’ll eat anything,” Al said. He was tempted to say cheese but didn’t think he could pull it off with a straight face. Al and cheese had a love affair predating puberty. In his opinion, Wisconsin’s cheese fanaticism was one positive among the many negatives.
“Good. Before I order, one rule: no work talk. Deal?”