Stay Sweet(78)

The scooping cabinet between the service windows is set to 5 degrees, so the ice cream is soft enough to scoop. But the walk-in freezer is kept at -10 degrees, and the ice cream that comes out of there is rock-hard. Amelia pops off the lid of a drum and drags her finger across the top. It sinks in deep, like into cake icing.

She shouts out to Grady, “Grady! We have a problem!”

And then she waits for him to answer.

When he doesn’t, she calls out again, “Like an ASAP problem!”

“One second!”

She bites the inside of her cheek. She could move some of the ice cream up to the house, but there isn’t enough room for all of it. She’s completely replenished the stock.

Finally, Grady comes down off the ladder and checks out the situation. He’s sweaty and frustrated. In the office, he puts his sticky hands on the desk and the phone, and Cate is groaning. He calls a repairman and begs him to come, agreeing to pay whatever it takes to get him out straightaway.

The repairman opens up an access panel and begins tinkering. After nearly an hour he says, “Haven’t worked on one this old before. I replaced the fan and tried my best to clean the condenser coil. I got her running, but you’re going to need to upgrade. If she makes it through the end of the summer, you’ll be lucky.”

“How much does a new freezer run?” Grady asks.

“You’re looking at around eight to ten grand.”

Amelia sees Grady wobble. He heads outside, beet-red and barely keeping it together. She wants to go to him, help him figure this out, but she can’t.

*

Later that afternoon, Amelia is out in the field, gathering branches of honeysuckle. A storm is coming; the sky is getting darker by the minute and a mean wind whips her hair.

Grady comes up behind her. “Hi.” His shoulders hang.

“Hi.” She doesn’t want to push him, but it’s on her mind. “What are you going to do about the freezer?”

“I don’t have that kind of cash liquid. Not even close.” He spins her around. “But it’s not your problem. I’ll figure it out.”

“You could try to talk to my mom. See about getting a small-business loan.”

“I don’t know what bank would give me any money. I don’t have a credit history. All my credit cards are through my dad.”

“But if we don’t have a freezer, what are you going to do about next summer?”

Grady smiles thinly. “To be honest . . . I haven’t thought much about next summer. I’m barely getting through this one.”

It begins to rain. They stand in silence as the drops multiply.

“Come on,” Grady says, taking her hand. “Let’s head inside.”

It’s the perfect escape from what Amelia knows will be a difficult conversation. What does the future hold? For Meade Creamery, but also for them?

They look at each other at the same time and book it to the house, branches scraping at their legs as the sky opens up and the rain spills out.

Crashing through the back door, she’s hot and cool all at once. And completely soaked. Her hair sticking to her cheeks, her shirt clinging to her body. Grady, too, is soaked through, his hair in clumps of wet curls, his chest heaving.

He pulls her close to him and kisses her. Their wet bodies stick together. His hands are pulling at her, peeling her shirt up over her head. Then she peels away his. And they are kissing and walking, heading toward the living room couch half-dressed, the rain blurring the view out of every window. The room is dark with the storm until a crack of lightning flashes, brightening everything up.

And then, there is Cate—wet as a stray cat, shivering in the hallway. “The roof is leaking,” she says, annoyed. “I tried calling you like seventeen times, Amelia.”

“I . . . I . . .”

Cate shakes her head. “Don’t even try.”

Cate waits in the foyer, impatiently tapping her foot, while Amelia declines Grady’s offer of a dry shirt, wriggling into her wet one.

They all go down to the stand together. A few folks sprint up to the windows, but they don’t have many customers. Grady climbs up on the roof and, in the midst of the storm, tries laying down a tarp. The wind lifts it up on him a few times, snapping it. The reason the roof isn’t fixed, Amelia knows, is all because she wanted him to salvage those signed shingles.

As Grady battles the tarp, Amelia scrambles to place containers on the floor to catch the drips. The other girls find rags to dry the floor, wipe down surfaces, pull the old milk bottles down from the rafters.

Cate is the only one not moving, just standing still in the middle of the frenzy, snorting with laugher.

“You seriously find this funny?” Amelia manages to ask, even though she’s having trouble breathing. Will Cate out her and Grady to the rest of the girls? Would that be the worst thing?

“Yeah, I do. You’re trying to catch drips when this entire place is falling apart. The freezer, the walls. One more rainstorm this summer and we’re flooded out.”

Amelia knows this is likely true. But it doesn’t make her laugh. It makes her cry.

“Oh, lighten up, Amelia. It’s just an ice cream stand.”

She ducks outside so no one will see.

Looking back at the stand, and shielding her eyes from the rain, Amelia sees the tarp wrapped tight to the roof, raw lumber piled on top to hold it down, but there’s no sign of Grady.