Ice cream warms the heart, no matter what the weather. That's the Dobson family motto. Whenever things get tough, they break out the special heart-shaped bowls and make sundaes. The road has been especially rocky lately for Tess and her deaf little brother, Jordan. Their plucky Texan mother talks big, but her get-rich-quick business schemes have only landed them in serious financial hot water. Ma's newest idea is drastic. She abruptly moves the family to snowy Schenectady, New York, where she will use the last of their savings to open her dream business: an ice cream shop. (Too bad the only place she could find an apartment is in a senior citizens' complex.) Tess wants to be excited about this plan, but life in Schenectady is full of new worries. Who will buy ice cream in their shop's run-down neighborhood? What will happen when their money runs out? Worst of all is Ma herself-she's famous for her boundless energy and grandiose ideas, but only Tess and Jordan know about the dark days when she crashes and can't get out of bed. And Tess can't seem to find the right words to talk to Ma about it. This moving story of family, community, and ice cream proves that with a little help from the people around us, life really can be sweet-and a little nutty-just like Rocky Road. Rose Kent, a former naval officer, lives in Niskayuna, New York, just east of Schenectady, with her husband and children in a house with a dozen ice cream scoopers. She is an ardent believer in the redemptive power of a sundae. Her first book, Kimchi & Calamari, was nominated for several state library awards. Visit her at www.rosekent.com. Chapter 1     On average, it takes a customer fifty licks to finish a single-scoop ice cream cone. --The Inside Scoop     "Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today. I want to be a part of it, New York, New York. . . ."     "Pleeeez stop singing, Ma. You're making me want to jump outta this car!" I called from the backseat. I would've, too, if it hadn't meant leaving Jordan. For three days and eighteen hundred miles, I'd been suffering in silence through Ma's barn-owl screechingof the only New York song she knew. A broken leg had to hurt less than this ear torture.   "Thank the good Lord your laryngitis is cured, Tess," Ma said as we moved into the fast lane, passing a Volkswagen Beetle.   Laryngitis--ha. Staying silent as the falling snow outside was the only sane way of dealing with our latest hopalong adventure. I'd been around Ma for all twelve years of my life, long enough to know that presenting a sensible argument as to why we shouldn'tmove cross-country in the dead of winter without money or a plan wouldn't put a dent in her thinking. See, when Delilah Dobson makes up her mind, she leaps first and looks later. And sure as we were fishtailing in this freezing car on an icy highway, she hadn'tdone much looking.   I stared out the car window. A silver van passed with two little girls holding juice boxes and waving. Now, where are they going? I wondered. Grandma's? Ice-skating? A party? No matter, they each wore a brightly colored pom-pom cap and a plucky grin, asif they fully expected sunshine, lollipops, and welcoming smiles to greet them at their destination.   "I want to take up in a city that doesn't sleep. . . ."   "It's wake up, Ma. And we're not going to New York City," I said, though she didn't hear me over her own singing.   I have to admit I too caught the Big Apple fever that struck Ma on New Year's Eve when she announced her resolution was to "refresh, revitalize, and relocate us to New York." Of course, I thought she meant New York City. Moving to the Big Apple might'vebeen worth suffering through this long and freezing car ride. I read Vogue magazine every month, cover to cover (even the advertisements, especially the advertisements). Who wouldn't find living in the fashion capital of the universe irresistible? I daydreamedabout passing celebrities on the streets of Manhattan, all of us decked out in designer wear like Dior and Stella McCartney. And I pictured myself strolling around the garment district on weekends, sorting through rich fabrics just asking to be made into snazzyoutfits and home furnishings. Plus all those famous stores! Bloomingdale's, Barneys New York, Saks Fifth Avenue. And what's that jewelry store mentioned in movies? Tiffany's, that's it.   Sure wished Ma hadn't waited until the morning we left Texas to set things straight and tell me she meant upstate New York. No one would feel like chitchatting in a freezing car if they'd just gotten hit with that news.   "Now that you're speaking again, Tess, how 'bout sitting up front so we can have some girl talk?"   "Can't, Ma. I'll wake Jordan."   I rubbed the top of my brother's hood. He was sound asleep on my lap, with his sweatshirt pulled over his head like he was a turtle in its shell. I'd wrapped a fleece blanket around him too, tucking it tight under his sneakers to cut the draft. Lookingdown at his sandy brow