The three girls nod like bobbleheads.
“We take pride in every aspect of this job. Every. Aspect. Even down to the sprinkles.” Cate wets her lips. “You newbies don’t know it yet, but there’s actually a fine art to getting perfect sprinkle coverage on an ice cream cone. And I’m going to show you how right now.”
The three girls look awkwardly at each other.
“Let’s go! Chop-chop! Into the stand!”
“Cate,” Amelia whispers. “This isn’t Lord of the Flies!”
Cate looks pleased as punch. “I always thought the Head Girl could up the theatrics a little bit.”
* * *
Amelia is cleaning up after a batch of strawberry when she hears Grady come into the house. He washes his hands, then comes downstairs. He’s a little sunburned.
“How’s it going out there?”
He hooks his chin on her shoulder. “Good. At least I feel useful.” His phone rings.
“Is that your dad again?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been avoiding him for days. Is that smart?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. But it’s not like he’s calling to find out how I am or anything. He wants to talk business. He went through the books and he has all these new ideas for me.”
“All bad ones, you think? Nothing that might be worth considering?”
“Good or bad, once he tells me them, they won’t be optional.”
“You’re doing a great job. There’s ice cream to sell; the girls are happy.”
He kisses her neck. “What are you doing tonight? Let me take you out on a date.”
Her eyes slowly close as she melts into him. “We can’t.”
“What if we went someplace far? Like a few towns over.”
“Things are just getting back to normal with me and Cate. If word got back to her before I told her about us . . .”
“So tell her! Or I can tell her, if you want.”
“I’ll tell her eventually. Just not yet. Anyway, don’t you have schoolwork you’re neglecting?”
“Promise me we’ll go on at least one date before the end of the season. Okay?”
She nods, but what happens after that? She doesn’t ask Grady, in part because she’s got ice cream to make, and also because she doesn’t know herself what she wants the answer to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
WHEN THE ICY CLOUD DISSIPATES, Amelia smiles at the wall of cardboard ice cream drums. It feels good to see the walk-in freezer filling back up. A few more days of this, Amelia thinks, and she should be able to get back on the schedule rotation, working at the stand with the rest of the girls.
But life is pretty sweet right now, popping in for a little girl time at the stand when she has ice cream ready, then heading back up to the house to have lunch with Grady.
On this afternoon, Amelia hangs up the ski jacket and enters the office. Cate is there, applying lipstick on the three newbies, who are squished together on the love seat, lips pouted in preparation for their turn.
“Hey, Amelia! I never tried this on you!” Amelia comes over and parts her lips. Cate draws the lipstick on and gives her a tissue to blot. “Oooh. That’s a great MLBB on you.”
“A what?”
“My Lips But Better. Go look!”
Amelia walks over to the mirror. It looks lighter pink on Amelia, like her actual lips, which is sort of anticlimactic. Then she sits down on the corner of the desk, watching Cate make over the newbies. Cate has already calculated the receipts for the first shift, but Amelia takes them and smooths them out and fastens them together a bit more neatly.
And then Amelia looks up. “Does something smell weird in here?” Since no one answers her, Amelia follows her nose, searching around the office. Underneath the credenza, she finds a crusty beach towel that stinks of a million gym lockers.
A few days ago, temperatures had crossed a hundred degrees. Amelia came down and saw that Cate had lined her truck bed with a tarp, filled it with water, and had the girls swimming between customers.
A moldy towel, a messy stack of receipts, and a schedule that never goes up on time. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that she needs to be okay with these trade-offs. The other girls wouldn’t ever complain about these things.
Though she probably could stay and hang out awhile, Amelia tells Cate she needs to head back up to the farmhouse. Better that, she decides, than let these little things bother her.
After throwing the towel in the dumpster, Amelia drives back up to the farmhouse in her lipstick, excited to show Grady. She’s never wearing makeup around him, never in normal clothes. It would be nice to go on a date with him. There’s a miniature golf course twenty minutes away. Sure, Grady plays golf, he’s got his own clubs, but Amelia has never missed a putt through the spinning blades of the windmill. She thinks she can probably take him.
She’s slipping inside the house when she hears Grady in the midst of a heated argument in the living room. He’s so focused, he doesn’t even look up. Her stomach sinks with every step down to the basement. Could Grady’s dad have figured out they went to the beach house?
A few minutes later, Grady comes down hot.
“That didn’t sound like it went well,” she says gently.
“Yeah. My dad’s not happy with our bottom line. The stand makes a decent profit, but a lot of the revenue gets turned back over into the business, cost of ingredients, payroll. So he’s been talking to his buddy Rod, who works in restaurants, and . . .” Grady shakes his head. “I don’t even want to tell you.”
“What?”
“My dad thinks we should stop making homemade ice cream and start serving, like, Hershey’s or whatever. Something we can buy in bulk from a distributor.”
“What? That’s crazy! The ice cream is what makes Meade Creamery special!”
“I know.”
Amelia shakes her head, resolute. “No, Grady. You can’t. Absolutely not.” Molly Meade would roll over in her grave. “This is ultimately your stand, Grady. If you don’t want to take his advice, you don’t have to.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him. And then . . . we kind of got into a big fight.”
“How big?”
“Huge.” He drops onto the couch and stares at the ceiling. “I used to look up to my dad so much. I’d do anything to please him. But now I’m scared that I’m going to turn into him.” He swallows and then turns his head to look at Amelia. “I actually said that to him.”
Amelia’s eyes go wide. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. He hung up on me.”
* * *
Amelia can’t get it off her mind for the rest of the day. The idea that Grady’s dad would erase the best thing about Meade Creamery to make a few extra dollars. Thank God Grady drew a line in the sand. But she’s no fool. She knows Grady’s dad has the power here. Grady’s Truman tuition is hanging in the balance.
Would Grady’s dad really sacrifice his son’s future to make a point?
Or maybe he secretly wants Meade Creamery to go out of business for the same reason his son wants to keep it open.
Grady’s mother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE NEXT TIME CATE DOES the schedule, she gives herself and Amelia the same day off. “Now don’t you think newbies were a good idea?” she says, knocking into her.
“Yes.”
The plan is to go shopping at the mall. Get some dorm essentials.
Amelia gets out of the shower and sees a text from Grady.
I miss seeing you this morning. Boo for days off.
Yay for days off! she writes back. I’m in real clothes!
I wanna see. he writes. And then, quickly, adds, Not in a creepy way!
Amelia takes a selfie in her baby blue off-the-shoulder peasant dress, blooming with hundreds of tiny embroidered red roses.
Man, you so cute. Aren’t you going to ask what I’m wearing?
Amelia grins and types. Is it a blazer?
&n
bsp; Grady sends back a photo of himself . . . in a pink Meade Creamery polo. Amelia doubles over laughing.
Take that off, imposter!
I’ll do whatever it takes to take you out on a date, Amelia. For real.
And then her phone starts buzzing nonstop.
Will you please go on a date with me?
Will you please go on a date with me?
Will you please go on a date with me?
Grinning, she puts her phone on silent. Would this be how they’d do it, if they tried long distance? There might be something nice about it. She’d get her space and have a boyfriend, too. The distance almost takes the pressure off, in a way.
But what to tell Cate?
The truth, obviously. She must tell her the truth. Sooner rather than later.
She goes downstairs to eat a quick bowl of cereal. Cate’s supposed to pick her up in fifteen minutes. She finds her parents waiting for her in the kitchen.
“Can I borrow a credit card? I’m going dorm shopping with Cate.”
“Amelia, we need to talk,” her dad says soberly.
“Okay.” She slides into her seat.
Her parents share uncomfortable looks with each other, like neither one wants to go first.
“You guys are scaring me.”
Her mom places her palms down on the table. “We stopped by the stand yesterday for an ice cream.”
“You did?”
“We were hoping we’d surprise you. But . . .”
“What?” She thinks they’re going to say something about her being up at the farmhouse with Grady. Or, even worse, about the ice cream not tasting right. She takes a taste of every batch, to make sure it turned out okay, but maybe she missed one. Sometimes it is hard to concentrate, with Grady around.
“The service was . . . bad,” her dad says with a heavy sigh. “Bad, Amelia. It was as if the girls didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t believe it. The lines were so long, but they didn’t move like normal. And the girls seemed distracted, talking to each other and joking around. I know you girls have a good time there, but it was like we were an afterthought.”
“We waited at the window for a good five minutes while the girls inside finished up a conversation with each other.”
“Oh.”
Mom says, “And I mentioned something at the bank and . . . well, our experience isn’t an isolated one.”
And Dad adds, “We thought we should tell you, since you are Head Girl.”
“I’m actually . . .” Amelia pauses. “Cate’s taken control of things down at the stand.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, then maybe check in with her. She probably has no idea. It could be girls slacking off when she’s not around.”
Or, Amelia thinks, it could be the fresh start Cate talked about.
Either way, it’s not exactly a conversation she’s excited to have. But better Amelia bring it up than Grady. If he did, Cate might just quit. And Amelia can see a scenario where the rest of the girls follow her out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AMELIA USED TO THINK THE mall just outside Sand Lake was enormous. It definitely seemed huge when she was a kid and she used to get her annual picture taken on Santa’s lap. But over the years, it’s as if the place has shrunk.
There are just enough stores to do a halfway decent back-to-school shopping trip: a Gap, a Macy’s, a Victoria’s Secret, a Sephora. But most girls in their senior class ordered their prom dresses online.
In Molly Meade’s day, this wasn’t here. Amelia’s not sure what was. Probably just a field. The shops were all on Main Street. Molly bought a dress for her high school graduation at a place called Blauner’s. It’s now a Dollar Store. Miller’s Pharmacy, now a Rite Aid, is where she’d buy cosmetics. One of the only places Molly wrote about that is still around is Corbet Jewelers, which is across the street from the post office, but Amelia almost never sees anyone going in and out of there.
She and Cate take the escalator down into the basement of Macy’s with two coupons Cate clipped for them out of last Sunday’s newspaper. There’s already a sale going on for practically everything in the home department, but these coupons, Cate informs her, will give them an extra 20 percent off on new comforters for their dorm rooms.
Amelia feels oddly adult, surrounded by KitchenAid mixers, stacks of silver baking sheets, rows of decorative vases.
“This is cute, isn’t it?” Cate says, pulling out a clear plastic bag with a pale yellow floral comforter stuffed inside. She turns it over, then puts it back. “Ideally, I want a whole look. Sheets, comforter, bed skirt, pillow sham. What about you?”
“I’m just going to get a comforter.” Amelia knows she sounds glum, but she’s dreading the thought of having to confront Cate about her parents’ experience at the stand.
“Don’t. Get a matching set, like me! It’ll make your side of the dorm room look so much more pulled together.” Cate laughs. “Though wait. You’ll probably want to run your picks by Cece.”
“Who’s Cece?”
“Cecilia. Your roommate at Gibbons. Did you ever hear back from her?”
Amelia gasps. “Oh my God, Cate. I never wrote her back. I meant to, when you told me all those weeks ago!” It’s crazy, how fast time is flying. It’s practically August.
“Amelia!” Cate scolds. She grabs Amelia by the hand and drags her over to the mattress section so they can sit. “You are so worried about the ice cream stand, you aren’t paying attention to what really matters. What if she asks for a transfer and you get stuck with some weirdo who never showers?”
Amelia pulls out her phone and searches for Cecilia’s email. “I just don’t know what to say. She wrote this whole long thing about herself.”
Cate holds out her hand and Amelia passes her phone over. After reading the message, Cate says, “I’ll do it for you.”
“Okay.”
Cate narrates as she types. “Hey Cecilia. Thanks so much for getting us the fridge. I will totally handle the microwave, no problem. Sorry for not writing sooner. My summer job is madness—I’ll tell you all about it in a few weeks. Anyway, a little about me—I’m undeclared right now, no boyfriend (What can I say? I like keeping my options open) . . .”
At this, Amelia tries to take her phone back. “Don’t write that!”
“Why?” Cate says, swatting her hand away. “Because of Grady?”
Amelia’s whole body goes cold. “No. Why would you say that?”
“Chill, I’m kidding.”
As Cate continues typing, Amelia realizes that, should Grady randomly happen to text her, the fact that she’s been hiding him from her best friend will blow up in her face.
Cate narrates the rest of her email. “Also, not sure what the style is yet of our dorm room, but if it’s bunk beds, can I claim the bottom? I have this thing with heights.”
“I don’t have a thing with heights. At least, I don’t think I do.”
Cate shrugs. “She seemed a little alpha in her last email. I want to push back on that a bit. I don’t want her thinking she can railroad you. Plus, trust me, no one wants the top bunk.”
“Fine,” Amelia says, anxious, and then takes her phone back.
Cate settles on a bed-in-a-bag, white with a blue ikat pattern, embellished with little blue tassels sewn around the edges. She buys a second set of sheets and a throw pillow.
Amelia ends up with a solid pink comforter made special by little ribbons of chenille sewn across it. She can’t find the matching sheets, but the saleswoman says they’re available online.
They’re in the food court when Amelia finally summons the courage to ask Cate about the stand. The stand matters too much to her to let things slide any more.
“Did you happen to see my parents yesterday? They stopped by the stand.”
“Oh yeah? I must have missed them.”
“Yeah, they said the lines were super long,” Amelia says, fingering the straw in her fountain Coke. “Like, longer than usual. Sounds like it was a little
. . . chaotic.” She’s hedging, trying not to sound accusatory, giving Cate some room.
“It is chaotic. Grady’s making a total mess of the place playing handyman. All his hammering and sawing. I had to throw out a huge vat of waffle cone batter because there was sawdust in it. I don’t know why he doesn’t just hire someone.”
“I think he’s enjoying the work.”
“Well, he’s making my life incredibly difficult.”
Something rises in her. The desire to hold Cate accountable. “I totally get how that would be annoying,” Amelia couches. “But I’m worried it isn’t just a Grady problem.” At this, Cate groans, and it almost derails Amelia from continuing. “I . . . I know you want the girls to have fun while they work. But it’s a job, too.”
Cate dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t want to talk about the stand with you.”
“But Cate . . .”
“I’ve caught you secretly looking over the stuff I do like a hundred times. And whenever you come down to the stand, I feel like you always find something negative to focus on, instead of how much better things are, how much happier everyone is.”
Amelia sits back. She can’t defend herself against Cate’s charge, because it’s true. And Cate doesn’t even give her the chance.
Cate begins gathering her unfinished meal and places it on her tray. “If you didn’t want me to be Head Girl, why did you tell Grady I should be promoted? Why did you give me your pin?”
Amelia bites her lip. She never actually said that to Grady. That was his idea, a way to smooth the ruffled feathers of their relationship. And it worked, at least temporarily. But the promotion clearly didn’t solve their problems. Things are still weird between them.