Stay Sweet(79)

Cold and wet, feeling like a dog nobody wants to let in the house, she wraps her arms around herself and walks back up to the farmhouse.

She finds him pacing the length of the fireplace mantel. “I don’t have the money for that freezer. I definitely don’t have money for a new roof.”

The stand wasn’t as profitable as she thought, and Molly hadn’t been taking care of the place. Amelia can’t help but wonder if it even would have been around next summer.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have to ask my dad for a loan.”

“Will he do that for you?”

Grady shrugs. “He might. He’d be in a position of power over me, which he’ll enjoy. It’s probably going to come with some conditions, though.”

“Like . . . taking his ideas.”

Grady nods.

Amelia, of course, is thinking about the ice cream.

Grady seems to read her mind. “I’m just going to get the money and then I’ll figure it out the rest later.”

Amelia nods. She’s got the same plan for dealing with Cate.

Later.





CHAPTER FORTY


GRADY AND AMELIA SIT SIDE by side on the basement couch, heads close together, Grady’s cell balanced on his knee. They’re splitting Grady’s earbuds so they can both listen in on the call. Jazzy hold music plays on the line.

“Can you hear my heart beating?” Amelia whispers to Grady. It pounds in her ears, in her throat, in her chest.

He squeezes her hand. “If this is too weird, you don’t have to do it. But I like having you next to me for moral support. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Amelia can hear how nervous Grady is. She wishes he didn’t have to make this call, go crawling back to his dad to ask for money, but what other option is there? This conversation is surely going to be about more than just a business loan. Hanging in the balance is Grady’s ability to return to Truman this fall, and maybe any chance there might be to repair something deeply broken in his relationship to his dad.

She squeezes his hand back. “I’ll be right here.”

The hold music ends abruptly. A secretary comes on the line and says, hurriedly, “Are you still there, Grady?”

“Yeah, Nancy. I’m here.”

“Okay. Your dad just got off his conference call. I’m going to put you through to him now.”

“Thanks.”

Everything inside Amelia freezes as the line rings once. Twice. Three times. Then, the clunk of a telephone receiver lifting off its cradle.

“Grady.”

At the sound of his father’s voice, Grady immediately straightens. He lets go of Amelia’s hand and wipes his palm on the leg of his pants. “Dad. Hi. Thanks for taking my call.”

“I have something in ten minutes,” Mr. Meade informs him. Amelia hears him shuffling papers around. She remembers the photo of Mr. Meade’s office that accompanied the Truman article she dug up on Grady, his austere mahogany desk covered in piles and piles of work. “That leaves you six minutes. So. What can I do for you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. Or at least, that’s how Amelia’s ears interpret Mr. Meade’s brevity. This is his opening jab in this negotiation and he’s immediately put Grady on the ropes.

Grady takes a deep breath. “I want to apologize to you, Dad. I . . .” He glances at her, unsure of what to say. Probably because he isn’t actually that sorry. “I let my emotions get the better of me the last time we spoke.” Amelia nods approvingly. Perfect. “I’m sure everything I said came out of nowhere, but—”

Mr. Meade cuts his son off with a sigh. “I got an alert that you keyed into the beach house, Grady. So, no, it didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“You went through your mother’s things, I assume.”

Grady bites his lip. “Yes.”

And that’s all Grady says. Yes. Even though there’s so much more to the story. Amelia wants Grady to explain, tell his dad about the letters and the missing recipes they found. But Grady keeps his lips pressed together.

“While I appreciate your apology, this is exactly why I didn’t want you to get involved with Meade Creamery to begin with. I knew you’d get emotional and lose sight of what’s important.”

Grady tenses up, leans forward. “Yeah, I got emotional. And Mom was—” He shakes his head, starts over. “She is important.”

Amelia fights the urge to lay a gentle hand on Grady as a way to dial him back because she knows he needed to say it.

“Of course you miss her. And, whether or not you believe it, I . . . miss her too.”

Hopefully hearing this simple declaration will help Grady. And his father’s words do seem to soften him. Amelia watches his shoulders come down from his ears. He leans back against the couch cushions and Amelia leans with him.

Mr. Meade continues. “But your primary concern needs to be the solvency of the business you are attempting to run. Which, don’t forget, is an endeavor you took on to prove yourself because you nearly failed out of Truman.”

“I know.”

“Grady, emotional decisions are never good business decisions. Like, say for example, telling off your father when he foots the bill for your clothes, your vacations, your tuition, your car. Every single Starbucks coffee you drink. Every trip through the drive-thru for a cheeseburger and fries. You can’t let emotion cloud your judgment. It’s a recipe for failure. The reason I have a dollar to my name is because I’ve learned to separate my head from my heart. That’s not a weakness, that’s an asset.”