Stay Sweet(59)

After Amelia closes up and sends Sophie and Jen home, she changes out of her uniform and into the festive clothes she’s brought with her: a blue-and-white-striped tank, cherry-red shorts that tie in the front in a bow, and a pair of espadrille wedges. Amelia and Cate have planned to head to the lake straight from work to begin setting things up on the beach. The other girls will join them around six.

Where are you? Amelia texts Cate.

Sorry. I ducked into Walmart to get bug spray but the lines are crazy. Be back to the stand soon.

Amelia walks up to the farmhouse to hand Grady the deposits. They still haven’t spoken. After putting the bank bag in the mailbox, she turns to walk away. But then she whips back and rings the doorbell, intending to inform Grady about the ice cream. How there isn’t any more left. How it’s really, truly over.

When he doesn’t answer, she presses the doorbell again, and again, and again. She feels tricked by him. Grady swept her up into his frenzy, sucked her into his family drama. All that time they spent together, those risky, flirty moments. She sacrificed her summer and her relationships to help save something she thought was as important to him as it was to her. Molly Meade wouldn’t have wanted that.

Grady doesn’t answer, even though the pink Cadillac is there. Could he be in the basement trying to make ice cream? If he was, would she forgive him for ghosting her?

The house is unlocked. Amelia slips inside.

But the basement is quiet. It hasn’t been touched. He’s not in the living room, not up on the second floor. Amelia hears Moo mewing and follows the sound into Molly’s office. Moo is sitting on the desk chair, contentedly scratching at the wooden armrest.

On her way out, Amelia notices that the letters from Grady’s mother are no longer on the mantel. Her heart catches, remembering that sad look in his eyes. Did he finally read them?

No.

Grady hasn’t touched them. He’s only moved them over to the pile of papers that he’s destined for the shredder. Actually, they’d probably be shredded by now if he hadn’t jammed the thing.

The anger simmers inside her. Why wouldn’t he want to read them?

Amelia’s not sure why she herself is drawn to them. Maybe she can’t bear the legacy of of another dead woman disappearing—of Grady’s mother’s words thrown away by her one and only son. She picks up the bundle and unties the string around them. She’s somehow made a habit of reading things she has no business reading, it seems.

Most of them are letters, and there are a couple of greeting cards, too. A birthday card to Molly. A Christmas card with a school picture of Grady inside. He’s wearing an annoyingly cute little sweater-vest, reindeer leaping across the red wool.

Then Amelia comes across an envelope that feels thicker than the rest. Amelia opens it up. It’s an ornate thank-you card, silver foil with a white ribbon bow affixed to the front. Inside, there’s a picture of Grady’s parents and Molly Meade, standing in a posh reception hall.

Grady’s dad looks so happy and young. Almost like Grady, only with slightly curlier, puffier hair. He might be only a few years older here than Grady is now, she thinks. There’s something boyishly earnest about his smile. And Grady’s mom, elegant in a white lace dress.

Molly looks beautiful too. Her hair isn’t white, it’s still somewhat reddish. She’s stylish, in a gold tweed dress with bell sleeves, a rose-colored silk bag. In the picture, she’s squeezing Grady’s mom’s hand. And she looks happy in a way that Amelia wouldn’t have expected. There’s not a trace of sadness for her own doomed romance to be found.

Dear Molly,

According to current wedding etiquette, couples have one year from the date of their nuptials to send thank-you cards. I’m embarrassed it’s taken the full year to write this note, especially when your present was far and away my favorite of all the gifts we received.

Molly, I’m honored that you would share your recipes with me. And that vintage ice cream maker is a work of art. Is it your original?

One upside to this card coming so late—I can share the news that I am expecting! ??The ice cream is coming in very handy in that regard. And being pregnant is the perfect excuse to have a scoop of Home Sweet Home each day!

It was lovely to get to talk to you at the reception, albeit briefly. I will check with Pat’s secretary and find a time for us to visit this fall before the baby comes.

Love,

Diana Denton-Meade

Amelia gasps and calls out for Grady. But there is no answer. Only the quiet of the old farmhouse.

She runs into Molly’s bedroom and checks the window that looks out on the back acreage.

She sees him, quite a ways off, out for a run, rising and falling in a steady rhythm along a path in the back fields, moving farther and farther away from her.

She tries his cell but it goes straight to voice mail, his cool professional voice instructing her to leave a message.

Instead, she flies down the steps—how to run in wedges is another thing Amelia picked up from stand girls—and out the front door. She hops on her bike and stands on her pedals to get around the farmhouse and into the fields as quickly as possible.

The farther away from the house she gets, the louder the sounds of nature get. The buzzing of insects, the breeze in the grass. She zooms past a large concrete pad, all that’s left of the burned-down barn.

“Grady! Grady!” she shouts, coming up behind him.