Stay Sweet(39)

No one kept track on opening day. It was so busy, the girls were bringing new tubs out of the walk-in and moving them into the scooping cabinet almost every hour. But over the week, only a few marks have been made on the clipboard, which means only some of the girls are remembering this responsibility. So Amelia now plays catch-up, organizing and straightening, and counts a total of fifty-one drums gone. When she shifts everything to the right, nearly half the walk-in freezer is empty.

“Whoa,” Cate says from behind her. “I’ve never seen it like this. Why hasn’t Grady brought us down more ice cream?”

“He probably never thought to check. I’ll let him know.”

“Do you think he’s started making it?”

“I hope so. There’s probably going to be a bit of a learning curve.”

“Hopefully not too big.” Cate knocks into her playfully. “And, while you’re at it, talk to him about us hiring newbies!”

“I promise I will.” Amelia already has a running list of things to discuss with Grady. The staffing situation, the missing tiles on the roof, the rotten wooden slats, and now ice cream. She goes into the office, straightens her shirt, and undoes the braid in her hair, because of how young Grady had said it makes her seem.

Hey, Grady. We are running low on ice cream down here, just FYI. Also I have a few managerial issues I’d like to discuss with you.

Cate leans over her shoulder. “Make sure you’re assertive with him about the newbies. If you sound like it isn’t a big deal, like we’re managing okay, he’ll blow you off. Remember, his dad told him to maximize profits.”

“You sure you don’t want to have this conversation?” Amelia’s only half joking.

“You’re Head Girl, not me. Remember? And anyway,” she adds, flopping onto the couch, “I’m on my break.”

Amelia can see Grady writing back.

Sure. Come on up. I’ll leave the door open.

She glances up at Cate. “Oh my God. He’s inviting me inside the farmhouse.”

Cate tries grabbing on to Amelia’s arm. “Wait! I’ll go! I need Grady’s advice on my dorm application anyway!”

Amelia wriggles free and darts past her, laughing. “Enjoy your break!”





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


AMELIA FOLLOWS THE DRIVEWAY UP to the farmhouse. The sun has started to set, filling the sky with shades of pink, and the damp air has the slightest whiff of honeysuckle. Molly’s Cadillac is parked at the top of the driveway, a week’s worth of crumpled fast-food bags tossed in the backseat.

As promised, the front door has been left open for her, but she still feels the need to knock politely on the screen door as she opens it.

“Look out!”

A hand grabs Amelia’s arm and yanks her inside. She falls into Grady’s chest as the screen door slams shut behind her.

Pushing off, she says, “Jeez, Grady!”

He’s wearing a pair of gray mesh shorts and a Truman T-shirt. It’s the most casually she’s ever seen him dressed, aside from opening day when he overslept. “Sorry.” He crouches down and the black-and-white kitten comes darting over. “Little guy was trying to make a run for it.”

Amelia squeals and takes the kitten into her hands. “I wondered what happened to him! He was with your great-aunt Molly when she passed away.” Amelia twists her arm, but the scratches the kitten gave her have healed.

“He’s my new study buddy. He keeps me from going crazy up here by myself.” The kitten crawls from her arms to his. Grady brings him close and rubs his cheek against the kitten. “Right, Little Dude?”

“You didn’t name him that, did you? That’s a terrible name.” Amelia scratches between the kitten’s ears and he works his head into her palm, purring like crazy. “You should call him Moo. In honor of the dairy.”

“What do you think?” Grady asks the kitten. “Little Dude or Moo?” Moo crawls back into her arms. “Moo it is, then.”

Amelia cuddles Moo for another few seconds before he wriggles to be put down. He starts pawing and mewing and crying at the door. “Grady, you know he’s trying to get outside because he’s an outdoor cat.”

“Yeah, I kind of assumed. But I’m afraid he’ll get run over by a car. It’s safer for him in here with me.” Grady picks up Moo by the scruff of his neck and lifts him so they’re eye to eye. “We’ll both get used to being in captivity, right, Moo?” Then he sets Moo down and uses his foot to nudge the kitten deeper into the house. Then they share in an awkward pause, without Moo as a buffer, and Amelia wonders whether or not things will go back to being contentious between them. “Sorry it’s so hot in here. Turns out Great-Aunt Molly did not believe in air-conditioning. But if I close my eyes”—which he does, to illustrate—“I can almost imagine I’m on a beach in Barcelona with my fraternity brothers.”

It is hot. Stuffy. And though the house appears tidy, Amelia sees hints of Molly’s age. Some cobwebs on the lampshades, dust bunnies where the walls meet the floor; both are likely too faint for old eyes to see.

Amelia follows Grady into the main hallway. Ahead of him, she sees Molly’s kitchen. It’s a classic farm style: white cabinets, big white porcelain sink, a noisy fridge, and a window that frames the back fields. Amelia knew the Meades owned a ton of land, but she’s had no sense of how much until now.