Stay Sweet(53)

“Is something going on between you and Grady?”

Amelia startles. “No. I’m . . . just trying to help the stand.”

“How do you see this ending?”

“I haven’t thought about it.”

Cate takes her by the shoulders. “Well, maybe you should? Before you get trapped up here, making ice cream day in and day out like Molly Meade.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I know you. You’re sensitive, you’re caring, and you’ll do anything for anybody. Those are the things I love best about you, Amelia, but they also make you vulnerable to getting taken advantage of. You are so invested in this ice cream stand and helping Grady be a success. And you’ve known him for what? A couple of weeks?”

“I . . . want to figure this out.”

Cate shakes her head. “If I’d known it would be like this . . .”

“Like what?”

“Let me ask you something: Is this the summer you wanted? Because I gotta be honest. It’s not the one I wanted. I mean, sure, I’m having fun with all the girls, but I wish you were with me.”

A lump rises in Amelia’s throat. “I know. I do too.” Has she let Grady take advantage of her niceness?

“We’ve worked one week with each other this summer. One. Week. We’re short-staffed, I’m picking up all your slack, trying to keep everyone happy and having fun for no thanks, no extra pay. And the reason why I came back was so that we could hang out together! I mean, that’s how you said it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispers.

“What are you even doing down there? Just, like, Frankensteining a bunch of random recipes together?”

“Basically.”

“That sounds miserable.”

“Except it’s really not. Sure, I’m tired. I’m frustrated. But I’m having fun trying to solve this puzzle.”

“It’s sounds like you have Stockholm syndrome.”

“I think I’m getting close.”

“To Home Sweet Home?”

“No. I haven’t even attempted that one. I’m talking about chocolate. Less so on strawberry. Every batch comes out icy. And with vanilla, I’m still—”

“Will you please listen to yourself? You sound ridiculous!”

Amelia gazes down at her Keds. Yes, she looks terrible. And yes, she was just crying. But this is important to her, and she doesn’t understand why Cate’s dismissing that. “If I can’t get this right, Meade Creamery is going to close. All the girls will be out of jobs.”

“When Molly died, I got another job that same day. We can get other jobs. So who cares?”

Amelia nods like she concedes Cate’s point, even though she does care. She can’t explain why, but she cares so freaking much.

Cate continues, “And to be honest, I doubt any of the girls will want to come back after this summer. The freezer is almost empty. You’re totally MIA. They know something’s up. I’m doing my best to keep Grady’s secret, but there’s a major undercurrent of what the hell is going on here.”

Amelia’s phone alarm begins to chime. Another batch is ready to go into the ice cream machine. Another chance, hopefully another step closer.

“I promise I will make this up to you! And all the girls, too!” Amelia says, backing away from Cate. But making amends will have to happen later.

Back in the basement, she finds Grady waiting for her, wringing his hands. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to stay. I know this is my problem. And I don’t want to cause trouble between you and Cate.”

“I want to stay,” Amelia says. And it feels good to tell someone, even if it’s just Grady, that tiny truth.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


AMELIA LETS HERSELF IN THE next morning. She’s halfway to the basement door when Grady grabs her hand. “Hey. How about some breakfast? You’ll see I wasn’t lying about being good at eggs.” He pulls her one, two steps toward the kitchen, with a friendly smile.

Amelia imagines Grady in the Truman dorms, the morning after a frat party, making the same pitch to get a girl to cut class and watch TV in his twin bed.

In the next second, she imagines she is that girl.

The thought is intoxicating but also scary. Having that freedom, no parents around watching to make sure she’s sleeping in her own bed at night.

But Grady is off-limits. And if there’s any line that Amelia absolutely, positively cannot cross, it’s that one.

“I’m good, thanks. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Before starting up another batch, Amelia opens Molly’s diary and consults the last entry she read before falling asleep the night before.

June 5, 1945

One of my mother’s bridge friends told me about a trick yesterday afternoon. You know you’ve got a real diamond in your engagement ring if it’ll scratch glass.

When I told Tiggy, she said, “Maybe you should check yours.”

And I said, “Wayne Lumsden would never propose marriage to me with a fake diamond.”

“So, try it,” she teased. “Unless you’re scared.”