Stay Sweet(71)

“You’ve got time for this? With all your schoolwork? And the stand stuff?” That said, she understands his urgency. Grady’s avoided dealing with his mother’s death for too long. Fortifying the stand is a chance for him to right some of those wrongs.

Grady’s cell phone rings. He quickly puts the call through to voice mail, and the look on his face when he does it tells Amelia exactly who it is. “Yeah. This is important.”

*

Later that day, Amelia makes herself a dish of ice cream and takes it out to the front stairs of Molly’s house. The echo of Grady’s hammer can be heard all the way up here. She opens the diary on her lap.

July 30, 1945

It’s the night before I’ll be selling the ice cream at our farm stand. I’ve tried my best to prepare, get familiar with my new machine, which only arrived three days ago. Tiggy stayed so late tonight, helping me to get everything set up. She’s never worked harder in her life but she didn’t complain, not once.

I love her so much.

Meanwhile, every time Mother sees my ice cream machine, she frowns. And she tells everyone exactly how expensive it was.

If this ice cream thing doesn’t work, I told her I’ll sell it. She says I’ll have to, or else I’ll be marrying Wayne in a Sunday dress in the fields.

She says that to scare me, but if that’s the worst thing that happens, I think I’ll be fine.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


AMELIA TRIES HER BEST TO keep Molly’s Cadillac centered on the driveway as she drives down to the stand with a trunk full of ice cream, but this proves an unfortunately difficult task for someone who can barely see over the dashboard. The vehicle rocks over the lumpy dirt—an off-kilter pink tank—and every time the brush scrapes and claws like fingers against the doors, Amelia shrieks.

Grady has started keeping the car keys on the table near the entryway for her, so Amelia can use it when she needs to. She is surprised at how rusty she feels behind the wheel, though she probably shouldn’t be. Amelia got her license this past spring but she hardly ever drives. She gets around fine on her bike, since her family only has one car. Plus, Cate’s always around to drive them wherever they need to go. But the speed with which her heart races on these trips up and down the driveway, compared to the speedometer needle fluttering at just under five miles per hour, is probably a sign she should practice more.

Amelia parks alongside Cate’s truck, but she doesn’t find Cate in the stand with the other girls.

“Is she here?”

“Yeah,” Jen says, thumbing outside. “She’s waiting for the newbies.”

Amelia walks outside to the front of the stand. And there is Cate, perched on the picnic table, her blond hair long and catching the breeze. She’s wearing makeup—eyeliner winged, a touch of pink blush, cherry-red lip gloss—and her arms and legs are coated in her favorite vanilla bean lotion, the one that has a bit of sparkle mixed in. Her Keds are new and spotless.

“You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You know, I’ve wanted to do this, to be this girl, ever since our first summer,” Cate sheepishly admits.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Nope,” Cate says. “Though, if you could get Grady out of here, that’d be amazing. There are all these huge holes in the stand now. It’s embarrassing.”

Over her shoulder, Amelia watches Grady determinedly yanking off wooden boards with a crowbar. From a distance, he looks like he knows what he’s doing, but Amelia knows better. He has Band-Aids on every finger. When she turns back, the three newbies are approaching. One comes by bicycle, and the other two are dropped off by a grandpa-type. She lingers, wanting to see Cate do her thing.

Cate tosses them each a polo shirt. “Okay, girls, I know I don’t have to tell you how special this place is.” Grinning, Cate leans back, resting her weight on her elbows. “But trust me that it’s even more special once you’re behind the counter with us. If you prove yourself worthy over the next few days, you’ll never be a plain old customer again. You’ll be a Meade Creamery girl. And that lasts forever.”

Amelia is happy to hear Cate say it. Sometimes it feels like they don’t hold Meade Creamery in the same regard.

Cate goes on, “We take care of each other in here, the way sisters do. No one risks sneaking off to text their boyfriend when a school bus full of campers might pull up. No one’s going to wimp out and not empty the trash cans even if there are bees around. We may not always get along perfectly, but not one girl here would ever think of taking the last tampon out of the box in the office without dropping off a new box the next day, whether they were on the schedule or not. You know what I mean?”

The three girls nod like bobbleheads.

“We take pride in every aspect of this job. Every. Aspect. Even down to the sprinkles.” Cate wets her lips. “You newbies don’t know it yet, but there’s actually a fine art to getting perfect sprinkle coverage on an ice cream cone. And I’m going to show you how right now.”

The three girls look awkwardly at each other.

“Let’s go! Chop-chop! Into the stand!”

“Cate,” Amelia whispers. “This isn’t Lord of the Flies!”

Cate looks pleased as punch. “I always thought the Head Girl could up the theatrics a little bit.”