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Laegjarn was used to the heat.
Growing up as the eldest daughter of a legendary chef and restaurateur meant she spent most of her childhood not far from the flames of a grill or the burners of a stovetop. Failing that, her father’s infamous temper made sure things at home always seemed moments away from a blaze.
Even for her, however, the summer heat wave that had descended upon the city of Zenith was close to being unbearable. Of course, wearing a black jacket with black dress slacks was perhaps not helping the matter, but she liked to appear professional.
Frowning, Laegjarn reached to adjust the umbrella atop her picnic table. The ancient furniture moaned at the attempt, steadfastly refusing to provide any further shelter from the oppressive sun.
Defeated, she took a bite of the protein bar clenched in her right hand. The taste was gritty, and the fibers stuck to her teeth, but at least it hadn’t melted all over her pocket like the chocolate flavor she’d picked up from the supermarket for last week’s meals. And it was certainly better than the alternative…bringing something cooked at home.
Not only did she have little time that wasn’t already devoted to her work, Laegjarn was unfortunate enough to be born without the slightest inkling of talent for food preparations.
It wasn’t as if her father hadn’t ever tried to teach her! He had, when she was very young, until her mother had threatened to leave her father if she ever heard him yell like that at her again.
Thankfully, she liked to joke to herself, her early death had meant her cooking lessons could continue until her sister was old enough to hold a mixer. They had still never been effective.
Taking a swig of water from her bottle, Laegjarn kept her eyes on the red brick building across the street from the park. A sign on top labeled it as “Niflheim Frozen Treats”, and a steady stream of visitors coming in and out of the glass doors made it quite clear that whoever was inside had to have been very busy.
Busy enough, in fact, to not have left the shop all day. Or all week, before closing.
Until…now?
Much to Laegjarn’s surprise, along with the latest batch of cone-carrying customers, a figure in a blue sundress emerged from the ice cream shop’s entrance. Weaving through the crowd in front of the store, the woman made her way across the street, coming close enough that Laegjarn could distinguish a brown paper bag in one hand and a plastic bowl of ice cream in the other.
In fact, she seemed to only be getting closer. As she approached, Laegjarn took note of her bright pink hair, falling in long waves down her shoulders, ending in blonde highlights and a pair of snowflake shaped ornaments. She had bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and was now looking directly at her.
“Hello!” said the ice-cream woman.
“Good afternoon.” Laegjarn replied.
“I…hope this doesn’t seem too strange of me…” the woman began, the hints of a blush rising to her cheeks. “But I’ve noticed you at this bench all week…”
Thankfully, Laegjarn had prepared for this.
“I’m thinking of buying an apartment near here. I wanted to get a feel for the neighborhood.” was the lie that sprang to her lips, but she didn’t get a chance to speak it.
“...and you never seem to have a good meal with you!”
…What?
She held up the protein bar wrapper, almost as if it was a shield.
“You needn’t worry about me, ma’am, I can afford food. I simply prefer to travel light…and I’m a rather poor cook, if I can be frank.”
“Well, I just hate to see someone have to spend all week munching on that factory-pressed nonsense!” Suddenly, the bag and bowl were thrust in front of Laegjarn, their holder grinning wide. “So I brought you these!”
“...Excuse me?”
“For you to eat!” She gave the brown bag a shake. “There’s a BLT in there, and some homemade potato chips! And this ice cream is from our shop! I wasn’t sure what flavor you’d like, so I just went with vanilla to be safe!”
Ah. So that was her game. Laegjarn reached for her pocketbook.
“How much do I owe you?”
The woman looked as if Laegjarn had just kicked a puppy.
“Owe me? Nothing, silly! It’s a gift for you!”
Laegjarn shook her head. “I’m sorry, Miss…”
“Gunnthra!”
“...Gunnthra. I can’t accept such…generosity, we’ve only just met.”
Gunnthra beamed.
“Then consider it the start of a wonderful friendship, and all for just one price…your name!”
Momentarily taken aback, Laegjarn could do little but smile.
“...Laegjarn. A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you! Now then…before it melts!”
The bag and bowl were placed on the picnic table, and Gunnthra slid in on the other side. She watched expectantly as Laegjarn lifted the spoon, taking a small bite of the waiting ice cream.
She nearly fell out of her seat. The cool temperature was perfectly refreshing, and the texture a perfect median between liquid and solid. It dissolved quickly on her tongue, leaving behind a wonderfully flavorful impression.
And this was just their vanilla?
Gunnthra seemed to already know what she would say, a smile just short of smugness on her face as their eyes once again met.
“That was…incredible.”
“Thank you! It’s my great-grandparents’ recipe…they opened this shop nearly a century ago!”
“You don’t say?” Laegjarn spoke between spoonfuls. “So it’s a family business?”
“It is.” Gunnthra nodded reverently. “You should come by sometime!”
With that, she glanced down at her phone, thankfully long enough to miss the grimace Laegjarn couldn’t hold back at the invitation.
“...But I’ve got to be headed back. Sounds like we’ve got a rush coming in, and I don’t want my sister to have to take all those orders by herself!”
As she rose to her feet once more, Laegjarn was able to contort her face back into a smile.
“Thank you for such a kind gesture, Gunnthra. I am in your debt.”
Gunnthra shook her head. “None of that! What are friends for? You have a wonderful day!”
With that, she was gone.
Minutes later, Laegjarn’s own phone gave a buzz.
Bracing herself, she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“They turned our offer down. Again!”
Something made of glass shattered on the other end of the line.
“Who do these people even think they are, declining money like that? Idiots! That was twice what that damned shack is worth!”
“It’s a family business.” Laegjarn echoed, feeling guilt crawl its way up her throat. “Nearly a century old.”
“Unbelievable! Of all the godsdamned luck, the best location in this shithole town is owned by a couple of bleeding heart hicks!”
The voice lowered to a growl.
“Well, fine then. If they want to play hardball, we are done pussyfooting around! If they won’t sell the place to me, I’ll just have to make them! You’ve got my permission to start turning up the heat. Understood?”
Laegjarn stifled a sigh.
“Yes, father.”
As the other line hung up, Laegjarn cast a forlorn look at the ice-cream shop across the street.
Things had just become much more complicated.