Stay Sweet(57)

He quickly sits up. “Wait, Amelia. Hold on a second. If it’s not already obvious, I have a very weird relationship with my dad.”

“No, that’s clear, Grady. Super clear.”

“I promise I didn’t slight you on purpose.”

“But you also made it seem like you’re the one doing everything.” She’s embarrassed saying this, because it’s not like any of this is hers. She’s a secondary character, background in the Meade family saga.

“I can’t have him thinking I’m not good at this.”

“He’s going to have that impression when you run out of ice cream,” she points out. “Which is going to happen very soon.”

“I’m hoping we figure it out before I have to tell him.”

“You mean you hope I’ll figure it out.”

“Hold up. I was fine to keep trying. You’re the one who volunteered to give making ice cream a shot. And I didn’t stop you because it seemed like you enjoyed doing it. And, to be completely honest, it’s been fun to watch you.”

Amelia doesn’t let herself soften. “I do enjoy it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Amelia doesn’t like how this is getting muddled. “I don’t want you selling our uniforms! Make different shirts, if you want to, but don’t sell these.”

“Fine, Amelia. We won’t sell the polos. And I won’t raise the prices, and I won’t use smaller scoops. I definitely don’t want to make you upset.”

Cate texts her. Ready?

“I’m not upset,” she tells him, hooking her bag on her shoulder.

“You are. And I’m sorry if that’s my fault.”

“I’d rather you didn’t apologize, honestly. It’s business, right? Nothing personal?”

Grady lies back down and covers his face with the pillow. It looks like he might want to stay that way forever. “That was the idea,” he says, muffled. “But I’ll make an exception for you. Please. Just stay.”

Amelia’s heart races. This is the most overtly flirty thing he’s said to her, something much harder to ignore, play off, look away from.

Unless he’s saying it because of the ice cream?

Part of Amelia wants to know. A bigger part than she’d like to admit.

But Cate is the most important thing in her life. Not Grady. Not ice cream. Not Meade Creamery. And on top of all that she made a promise. So even though she wants to stay, she goes.

And if anyone would understand that, Molly would.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


AMELIA IS AT THE SINK, draining a pot of slippery elbows from a late-night box of too-late-for-anything-else mac and cheese for her and Cate. Cate had to stop for gas if they were going to make it home from the stand, and while she filled up, Amelia ran into the mini-mart for snacks. Luckily, they had the good kind for sale, where the cheese isn’t powdered. Instead, it’s a creamy sauce that comes in a foil packet, which gets mixed in once the noodles are cooked. Amelia squeezes and rolls the foil, working dutifully to get every last drop out.

“You know what sucks?” Cate says, digging in the fridge for hot sauce. They both like to douse enough hot sauce on their mac and cheese to make their eyes water.

Amelia steels herself. She doesn’t really want to talk about what happened at the stand today with Grady. She mentioned on the ride home that Grady apologized, but Cate seemed less convinced of his sincerity than Amelia.

“Amelia?”

“Sorry. What?”

“It sucks that Sand Lake doesn’t do their own fireworks show anymore for the Fourth.” Cate grabs utensils and sets two places at Amelia’s kitchen table. “Remember that?”

“Totally. It used to be my favorite holiday.”

The town used to set off fireworks from a barge in the center of the lake when they were kids. After dinner, everyone in town would walk down with picnic baskets, blankets, beach chairs, and coolers and wait for the sun to set. Amelia loved the way the lights twinkled in the sky and also on the water, a perfect mirror image. And the peppy songs the high school marching band would play from the parking lot. She isn’t especially patriotic, but there was something about the way they matched the beat to the bursts that would make her feel a swell of pride.

“Anyway, the girls were talking today about their plans for the Fourth, and I was remembering the fireworks, and they looked at me like I was crazy. None of them remember going.” Cate shakes some hot sauce into both their bowls, looks up at Amelia, who gives her a nod of encouragement. “Did we ever go together?” Cate asks, adding a bit more.

“Nope. It ended when we were in sixth grade.”

Cate stirs her bowl. “Ahh, sixth grade BCA, before Cate and Amelia. I wonder why the town stopped doing them.”

“I think because more and more people ditched Sand Lake for the better fireworks shows at the other lakes.” It was true, their fireworks show was never as impressive as at some of the other nearby towns, where they actually charged people money, but it was a mostly steady stream for around fifteen minutes, explosions loud enough that Amelia would plug her ears.

“What do you think about doing our own fireworks show at the lake this year? For the girls.”

“Oh my God, that would be so fun!” But Amelia’s smile wilts as fast as it has bloomed. “I’m not even sure we’ll have ice cream to sell in two days.”