Stay Sweet(29)

Just after nine o’clock, Amelia hears someone calling her name. She’s on her hands and knees, pulling weeds from the cracks in the pavement with Cate. They both sit up and watch Grady sprint down from the farmhouse as fast as he can run in his flip-flops. His hair is sticking up in the back, dented from his pillow. He has on a fraternity T-shirt with a hole in the shoulder and a pair of Truman University sweatpants.

“Sleeping Beauty has awakened,” Cate whispers.

Grady crouches on the ground near Amelia and says in a low, urgent voice, “I can’t believe it’s after nine. Why didn’t you knock on the door?”

“She did,” Cate answers. “Twice, actually.”

This is not true. Amelia shoots Cate a look. Grady doesn’t notice. He’s too agitated.

Amelia calls out, “Everyone, this is Grady Meade!”

Grady gives them a quick wave and then shields his eyes from the sun as he surveys the scene.

Cate stands up and extends her hand. “Hey, Grady. I’m Cate.”

“She’s the one going to Truman on scholarship,” Amelia says quickly. “Cate’s been here as long as I have and—”

“Hey, is that where the picnic tables usually go? Wouldn’t they’d be better off to the side where there’s some shade?”

Amelia squints to see where he’s pointing. “That puts them under the trees and into a potentially volatile bird poop situation.”

He spins 180 degrees. “What about the plywood? When does that come down? People driving by will think we’re closed for good.”

“That’s typically the last thing we do, right before we open,” Amelia says. “Otherwise people will start to line up now.” She notices Cate’s deepening frown.

Grady scratches his chin, contemplating the garbage cans. “We only have two of those? Is that enough?”

“We don’t get a ton of trash,” Amelia explains. “And we’re good about emptying the cans several times during a shift.” She gestures to Cate. “Anyway, we’re all so proud of Cate. Truman is lucky to have her.”

Finally, Grady seems to get it, and focuses his attention on Cate, who is standing off to the side, arms folded. “Hey, sorry, Cate. It’s good to meet you. I’m a bit distracted this morning.”

“No problem.”

“So . . . what are you studying?” he asks earnestly.

“Chemistry,” Cate says, still a little icy, but warming. “I’m considering a minor in math, though I’m not sure. I don’t want to be a complete academic hermit.”

“Well, you must be smart if you scored a scholarship. They don’t hand those out to just anyone.”

Cate shrugs, like this is no big deal. “It’s not a full ride.”

“It’s basically a full ride,” Amelia chimes in.

“Cool, cool,” Grady says, distracted by the picnic tables again. He makes a hmmm noise. “I really think we should try shifting them a little away from the stand, so people can see it from the road.”

Cate clears her throat, and when she has Amelia’s attention, she discreetly flicks her hand as if shooing a fly away. Except she’s shooing Grady.

Amelia nods and tries leading Grady toward the stand with a hand gently on his back. “You know what, Grady? I totally hear your point about the picnic tables, but I need Bernadette and Sophie to get working inside the stand. We’ve got a lot to set up in there still.”

Grady checks his watch and groans. “I can’t believe this happened. I set two alarms last night, but I get like zero signal out here and it sucked my battery dry. The girls probably think I’m some kind of slack-ass. What can I do to help?”

Amelia might be more annoyed if it weren’t clear that Grady is annoyed with himself. And, honestly, it’s not that big a deal. The way he’s acting right now, so panicky and brimming with questions, it’s better that he’s been out of their hair. “We’ve got this under control.”

He shakes his head. “Come on. Please. I need to help.” Right then, the lawn mower sputters to a stop in a patch of high grass. Mansi tries pulling the cord a few times to restart it, but it’s dead.

Grady cups his hands around his mouth and says, “I’ll take a look!” Before he darts off, he spots the bag of bagels. “Thank God. I’m starving.” He reaches inside. “Anyone got dibs on this last one?”

“Have at it,” Cate says, grinning mischievously.

He puts the pumpernickel bagel between his teeth, and the girls have to do everything they can to hold in their laughter as he jogs over toward the lawn mower.

Amelia whispers to Cate, “He’s really stressed.”

Cate rolls her eyes. “I love how he comes down here and questions everything we’re doing. As if he knows better than us.” ?Thankfully, she doesn’t seem that annoyed. If anything, she’s charged up. “He really is cute,” she concedes begrudgingly. “I bet he normally gets away with this crap all the time. But he’s about to have a rude awakening because that’s not going to happen here.”

*

An hour later, Cate’s inside the stand with several open cardboard boxes at her feet. She’s filling up the sideboard with toppings—sprinkles, crushed-up Oreo cookies, and chopped candy bars. She’s got the radio on, singing and shimmying as Amelia makes trips in the purple ski jacket between the storage freezer and the scooping cabinet, stocking it with two drums of every flavor. Amelia’s so tired, they feel twice as heavy as they normally do. Then, after the last trip, she sheds the jacket, closes her eyes, and stands for a second in the cold, hoping it will jolt her awake.