Stay Sweet(85)

“What?”

He seems to understand that she’s whiplashed. “I’m going to sell the stand, and use that money to pay my own way to Truman. I’ll go back on my terms. I’ll be out of my dad’s pocket forever. I’ll be able to find something I love.”

Desperately, she says, “But your mom . . .”

“My mom was not a Meade. And I know she would want this for me.”

“So that’s it. It’s over. How much do you think you can get?” It sounds crass asking, as crass as it would be to curse.

“I’ll get enough to cover me until I graduate and hopefully a little extra.”

“When?”

“If I make a deal, it’ll be for the end of the summer. The stand will keep running. I figure if the big freezer quits, we can use the one in Molly’s basement and just run stuff down as needed.” He looks up at her. “I wouldn’t cut this summer short. I know how important it is to you.”

Amelia puts her hand to her heart, needing to make sure it’s still beating.

“Amelia, you have to know how sorry I am that everything worked out this way. I really wanted to save this for you.”

“I know you did.” She gets out of the car and slams the door, because he didn’t, because if he really believed in Meade Creamery, he would never think of selling it off. And that’s all there is to it.





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE


AMELIA STANDS AT THE OFFICE window, watching as Grady speaks with a local Realtor and another man drives a stake into the rain ditch running alongside Route 68, a FOR SALE sign. Grady turns and walks into the office.

“I need to go out for a while, but I left the front door open if you need to get in.”

“Thank you,” Amelia says coldly.

“Amelia . . .” But Grady doesn’t say anything more. Because what is there to say?

Once he’s gone, Jen knocks on the door. “Amelia? Someone’s asking for the Head Girl outside.”

Amelia stands up, straightens her shirt.

There’s someone at the left service window. An old lady with a cane, dressed up in Sunday clothes, buttons and stockings.

Amelia walks to the window, unhooks the latch, and slides it open. “Can I help you?”

The old lady doesn’t answer her. Instead, she looks past Amelia into the stand and clicks her tongue. “Not a thing has changed.”

Not yet, Amelia thinks.

“I used to work here a long time ago.”

“Oh. Well, welcome back.” Amelia leans forward on her elbows, forcing a smile to her face. “I’m Amelia.”

“I’m Theresa Wolff, but the girls used to call me Tiggy. I was Molly’s best friend.”

Amelia’s mouth drops open. Tiggy? She’s always assumed Tiggy was dead.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you.” She reaches out for a handshake. Tiggy’s skin is loose and cold, and though Amelia tries to hold her gently, she clings to her with excitement. But as she lets go, that excitement gives way to dread. Amelia worries that Tiggy might not know that Molly has died. That she’ll have to be the one to break the news. She forces a swallow. “I’m not sure if you heard, but—”

“Oh yes. My granddaughter sent me the obituary. I got ill and couldn’t make the funeral. If I hadn’t promised my friends here the best ice cream they ever tasted, I don’t know if I could have gotten a ride out today.” Amelia didn’t realize before, but Tiggy’s brought a nurse with her, a short man with dark hair and a mustache who is carefully and gently assisting her. And there’s a white transport van from a nursing home parked off to the side, near the picnic tables, where a woman is standing watching them. She waves when she sees Amelia looking.

“I figured this might be the last summer of Home Sweet Home. Can I have a small cup?” Tiggy shuffles backward a little so she can take in all of the ice cream stand.

Amelia grabs her scoop and opens the dipping cabinet. Even though Tiggy asked for a small, she gives her two big scoops, and makes chocolate sundaes for both Tiggy’s aides.

Tiggy tries to pay, but Amelia waves her off. “On the house,” she declares. “And Tiggy, I hope you don’t taste a difference. I’ve been making the ice cream myself since Molly passed.”

Tiggy closes her eyes and takes a lick off the top. “It’s like I’m seventeen again.”

“I’m so glad.”

“And you’re Head Girl?” Tiggy asks.

“I am.”

“Where’s your pin?” Tiggy asks, suspicious.

“Oh,” Amelia says, looking down at her collar. “I guess I forgot to put it on.”

This is a lie. But Amelia didn’t feel right, putting it on after firing Cate. As if that were the reason she’d done it, simply to take the power back.

“What a shame,” Tiggy says.

Amelia thinks at first that Tiggy is referring to her missing pin, but then she feels something on her shoulder. Tiggy has lifted her cane and stuck it inside the stand. It rests on Amelia’s shoulder, as if Tiggy were setting up a trick shot on a pool table. Turning slightly, Amelia sees that Tiggy’s got the rubber tip lined straight up with the photo of Molly and Wayne.

“Yes, it’s very sad,” Amelia agrees.