Stay Sweet(90)

Amelia’s been hesitating. She keeps tweaking her essay about why she’s seeking money—not because of any lingering doubts, though her parents’ hesitation echoes in the back of her mind. Of course the girls would have her back, no question, but what about the adults in town? They all might have trusted Molly Meade. But why should they trust her? A teenage girl?

This also feels like an opportunity for Amelia to change the narrative of Molly Meade, to show that she wasn’t a sad old heartbroken woman. Though her business was small, it afforded her an amazing, adventurous life. Why should that stay a secret? She doesn’t want to spill the beans, exactly, but she does want to give Molly her due.

And then there’s Cate. There’s so much Amelia wants to say. This could be for her, too.

This feels more important to Amelia than her college essay. Way more important than writing back to Cecilia Brewster. She can feel the words begin to come together, the way she wants to speak about herself, and not just as one of the stand girls.

After many, many, many drafts, she finally writes something that truly speaks to her feelings about Molly and Meade Creamery. And this is what she posts.

Hello. My name is Amelia Van Hagen. I started working at Meade Creamery four summers ago. Those summers were some of the most formative of my life. I could probably fill the pages of a million diaries with the fun I’ve had, the amazing girls I’ve met, and the bits and pieces of wisdom I’ve collected. I say without hesitation or reservation that being a Meade Creamery girl is an experience I’ll be forever grateful for.

This summer, after Molly Meade’s passing, I had the honor of taking over the production of ice cream according to her heirloom recipes. For me, as I am sure for many of you, her life story preceded her. Though I never had the chance to personally get to know Molly Meade, I feel now as if I understand her in a new and deeper way. Through this experience, I’ve also learned things about myself. How much I love making ice cream. How hard it is to run a business. How difficult it is to take yourself seriously. How easily and quickly everything can fall apart.

But Molly’s resilience, her unwillingness to submit to expectations placed upon her at the time, and her unwavering belief in herself and the girls who worked for her have taught me that if you find something you love, you fight for it with everything you’ve got. No regrets.

The Meade family is not interested in continuing the stand in its current form, but I have submitted a business plan that they are willing to entertain, to purchase their food truck, the equipment, and the recipes, and relaunch Meade Creamery as a mobile business next summer.

I know I am only seventeen (almost eighteen!) but Molly was the same age when she started Meade Creamery. With your support, I would like to continue her legacy while also beginning my own, and make sure that the Meade Creamery girls who come after me continue to have a place to find themselves, too.

Donations come through from people all over Sand Lake. Each one sends a ping to Amelia’s phone.

The mayor gives Amelia fifty dollars.

Teachers.

Neighbors.

Tourists.

Former stand girls donate too. There’s even a donation from Frankie Ko.

Her parents don’t give her a dime.

But the one that really floors Amelia is a hundred dollars that comes in from Cate Kopernick. Her eyes fill with tears and she immediately hops on her bike.





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT


AMELIA CLIMBS THE STAIRS TO Cate’s front door, trying to keep her hope in check. If she could fix this, if they could somehow come back together, it would be everything.

Cate opens the door before Amelia can knock. “Me first,” she announces.

“Okay.”

Cate draws in a breath. “I am pissed at you for keeping secrets, I’m pissed at you for hooking up with Grady, and I’m pissed that you fired me.” She shifts her weight, letting that hang in the air. Amelia looks down. “But holy shit, Amelia, you fucking fired me.”

Amelia smiles at the pride in Cate’s voice. “You weren’t that good of a boss.”

“I know,” Cate says, though not in her confident Cate way. She seems . . . stunned. “I thought I would be. I mean, I think I did some things well. But it was way harder than I thought. And I didn’t like how it made me feel, to not be good at something. I haven’t had that happen to me before. And it got me thinking about Truman, all the smart people that will be there. What if I’m not who I think I am? What if I can’t make friends? What if the classes are hard?”

It’s crazy to think Cate is struggling with the same things Amelia’s been dealing with all summer—crazy, yet also comforting.

“You know who you are, Cate.”

Cate shakes her head. “I had a terrible nightmare last night,” she says.

“What?”

“I was away at Truman. Walking around. And I saw you there with Grady. You came to see him but you hadn’t told me.” Her eyes brim with tears. “And it was because I’d pushed you to make a choice, except it wasn’t a choice at all. I didn’t support you, like I should have. I know you were only trying to save the stand. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”

“You weren’t wrong, Cate. There were times I picked him over you, over the other girls.”

“Yeah, but how could I blame you for that?” Cate shakes her head. “I didn’t have your back. I didn’t make it easy on you. In fact, I made it almost impossible, because it was a conversation I didn’t want to have.” She looks up. “I don’t want you to leave for Gibbons and me to leave for Truman and for us to not be who we are to each other anymore.”