In Minnesota, winter doesn’t wait until Christmas to appear.  When I lived there, we wore sweatshirts on Memorial Day and Labor Day most years.  Residents try to embrace the cold, laugh themselves silly right in its blustery face.  My latest romantic comedy Act Like We’re In Love takes place in Minneapolis.  In the summer, but the scene below illustrates the quirky mindset that gets them through the long, freezing months.  And in case anyone thinks I made up such a bizarre attraction, I’ve attached a picture (appropriately covered in snow).  Enjoy the excerpt!

“Is that a giant spoon?” Or had someone shrunk him to the size of a gnat? Because, really, how often did you run across a thirtyfoot- tall spoon?

“You’re so déclassé, Wes,” Ingrid jibed. “Don’t you know great art when you see it?”

“Not sure. All I see is a giant spoon with a cherry on top.” A quiet stream of water ran from the top of the cherry stem, down the brilliant red fruit, into the placid pond beneath the spoon.

Their hands entwined, Ingrid walked him around the perimeter of the pond. “Welcome to the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.  “Spoonbridge and Cherry is the centerpiece of the exhibit. One of our city’s most recognizable landmarks. What do you think?”

“It’s a little quirky?” he ventured. He didn’t know much about modern art, except most of it rarely made sense to him.

“Exactly!” She beamed her approval with a smile that could light up Times Square. “See, in order to survive seven months of winter, enormous snow drifts, and weeks at a time spent in below zero temperatures, we Minnesotans have to have a sense of humor.  An appreciation of the absurd. A penchant for the peculiar.”

“This sculpture certainly qualifies.”

He glanced around. To his left sat a giant picture frame with legs that resembled tree branches. Deeper into the park, he spied what looked like the original Trojan horse, whittled down to a skeleton of lumber scraps. “Everything here strikes me as offbeat.  But intriguing,” he hastened to add.

“Look beyond the sculptures. Take in the atmosphere,” she urged.

Wes planted his feet and followed her instruction. A duck flapped in lazy circles, sending ripples through the pond. The skyline of Minneapolis formed a striking backdrop to the natural contrast of the park. He knew a busy thoroughfare bordered it, but the traffic din muffled to merely a faint white noise. A pastel haze hung across the garden from the pale pink and lavender reflection of the setting sun in the metal sculptures. The serenity of the oasis seeped into his pores like a healing balm.

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you for bringing me here, Ingrid.”

“You feel better, don’t you? Restored.”

“How about you settle for calmer?”

She gave him a measuring look. “You strike me as a pretty buttoned- up, stressed-out guy. Look at you. Grey tie, grey shirt, grey pocket square in a grey suit. The whole outfit screams “uptight.’  Calm is probably quite an accomplishment for you, so I’m good with it.”

“Thanks for bending your standards.” Where did she get off insulting his suit? It was Italian and in impeccable taste, as were the Ferragamoâ„¢ tie and shoes. In stark contrast, she looked like she’d dipped her legs in melted lime sherbet. What kind of style could you call that, anyway? He’d met other dancers, and they didn’t walk around in rehearsal clothes day and night like Ingrid.  Of course, if she ever did put on a normal outfit, he wouldn’t be able to watch the muscles in her long, tight legs flex under her thin pink tights. The dancer chic look did have its advantages.

Ingrid frowned at him. “Now, are you going to tell me what really caused your outburst?”

Wes was taken aback. He let go of her hand and spread his wide in confusion, shoulders up to his ears. “You told me to vent.  Let it all out, you said. I followed your directions.”

“Mmm, no. I mean, yes, you did, but nobody loses it like you did just because Luke asked you to find his phone. I buy you being annoyed, or even irritated. But as his manager, you’re well aware what a nightmare it would be if someone else found the phone first and gave all his private numbers to the press. Gosh, I bet Luke probably has half of Hollywood’s movers and shakers on speed dial. It’s not a completely ridiculous request to have you look for it. So, cutie, what really set you off?”

She plopped on what looked like a bench, but Wes went out on a limb and assumed it too should be considered Art. How could a woman he barely knew be so perceptive as to see right through him?

Wes gave a nervous laugh. “This is silly. I feel like I’m about to unload to a shrink.”

“That may be the California way, but out here I call it being a good friend. More fun, often involves alcohol, and loads cheaper for you.”

“The lure of fiscal restraint is hard for me to resist.” He joined her on the bench, figuring it would be easier if he didn’t look at her. Ingrid had an arresting and very distracting face.

Christi Barth
www.christibarth.com