CHAPTER TEN
AMELIA BARELY SLEEPS. BY MORNING, she’s trying to focus on the one silver lining in this terrible misunderstanding—that Molly Meade has family who will take care of her estate now that she’s gone. That she wasn’t as alone as everyone in Sand Lake assumed. Amelia is still mortified by what Grady must think of her and the girls for doing what they did, stealing ice cream from his great-aunt. Though, thankfully, he was cool about it, she feels their actions have tarnished the entire stand girl legacy, made them appear childish, immature. In this way, handing over her key to Grady almost feels like appropriate penance.
She pours herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, and though she should be looking over the materials from the bank before tomorrow’s interview, she instead turns on the small flat-screen on the kitchen counter. She loves watching game shows. Her secret talent is guessing the prices of supermarket items, and breakfast cereal is her specialty. It’s always more expensive than contestants assume it’ll be. She’s leaning against the counter, watching as a man celebrates winning his-and-hers Jet Skis, when her phone buzzes with a text from her dad.
Did you see the big news in today’s paper?
Dad starts every day by reading the Sand Lake Ledger even though it’s barely a real newspaper and doesn’t offer much beyond high school sports scores, garage sale listings, and the local police blotter. Amelia spots it on the kitchen table, exactly where he left the copy with Molly’s obituary for her a couple of days ago.
She carries her cereal bowl over. The newspaper is unfolded to a huge color photograph taking up the front page. It’s of Grady Meade, smiling broadly in front of the Meade Creamery stand, hands clasped behind his back, feet spread shoulder width apart. He’s wearing the same deep blue suit he had on at the funeral yesterday, but his tie has been loosened, his pants rolled up just above his ankles, and he’s changed out of his wing tips and into a pair of black Adidas soccer flats. His sunglasses are off. His eyes are as blue as the sky.
The headline reads YOUNG ENTREPRENEUR TO TAKE OVER LOCAL FAMILY BUSINESS.
The spoon slips from Amelia’s hand and plunks into her bowl. Splatters of milk pucker the page.
Grady Meade, 19, is a currently a sophomore business major at Truman University. His original plan for the summer had been to backpack across Europe with his fraternity brothers on an unlimited rail pass. When he discovered that Molly Meade had left him the Meade Creamery ice cream stand in her will, he decided the chance to put his education to use in Sand Lake was too valuable an experience to pass up.
Amelia lowers herself into her seat, blinking in disbelief. Molly Meade left her ice cream stand, her all-girl ice cream stand, to . . . a boy?
“It’s an incredible learning opportunity. Better than a traditional internship, where you’re just watching from the sidelines. I’ll put the skills I’ve been learning at Truman into practice.”
While the last few days have been something of a whirlwind for this Chicago native, one thing that didn’t surprise Grady Meade was to learn that the Meade Creamery ice cream stand is a fixture in the lakes region, and he is keen to continue the legacy his great-aunt saw fit to entrust him with.
“Both my father and his father before him have been extraordinarily successful businessmen. Seeing what my great-aunt Molly has built only reinforces that the Meades are born entrepreneurs.”
Mr. Meade is currently thinking of ways to bring the legendary ice cream stand into the twenty-first century. “Obviously social media is huge right now, and so I’d like to create an online identity where consumers can connect with the stand.” One modern problem he claims to have solved already? “For the first time, Meade Creamery will be a gender-diverse workplace.”
And of course, there’s the question that will be front and center in the minds of his customers—will the ice cream taste as good? To this query, Mr. Meade simply grins. “I’m well aware that my great-aunt’s recipes are the most valuable thing I’ve inherited.”
Meade Creamery will reopen this Tuesday.
Amelia reads the last line twice more before it sinks in.
Tuesday . . . is tomorrow.
She takes a photo of the article and texts it to Cate, who’s well into her shift at JumpZone. Amelia’s phone rings a minute later.
Cate says, her voice competing with the screams of children in the background, “Well, clearly Molly lost her mind there at the end.”
“Do you think?” Amelia is less sure. Remembering the note Molly left for her in the office, the state of the stand, she appeared completely on top of things.
“Why else would she hand over her business to a boy?”
“Who knows. But this could mean we have our jobs back! Right?”
“Unless Grady plans to use the stand as a satellite fraternity house. Invite his bros down to Sand Lake for the summer.” Cate chuckles at the thought of this. “They could change the motto to Ice Cream So Sweet, You Won’t Cheat on Your Girlfriend.”
It’s been hard enough for Amelia to come to terms with Meade Creamery closing for good. Her heart squeezes at the thought of the stand running without her or the other girls. “The article says his friends went to Europe. It’s got to be us.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m just surprised you sound so excited about it.”
“Why?”
“Because sure, we’re likely getting our jobs back, but in what capacity? Are you still going to be Head Girl?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
“Here’s what you should do. Tell Grady Meade that the only way you’re coming back to work is if you’re still the Head Girl. Nothing less.”
Amelia blinks. It’s easy to imagine Cate doing that. But could she?
Wistfully, Cate says, “I wish I could go meet him with you, but another birthday party just came in.”
“I wish you could too.”
“Just remember that you have the power! If Grady wants to open for business tomorrow, then he needs us more than we need him.”
Amelia nods to herself. “Yes. Totally true.”
“So quit thinking of this as some job interview where you need to prove that you should be Head Girl. Amelia, you already got the job! Think of this as Grady’s chance to impress you. Feel him out, see if you think he’ll be a good boss. If not, then I say forget it. Because it’ll suck way worse to be a part of the downfall of Meade Creamery than it will be to walk away.”
* * *
Normally, Amelia would roll out of bed and put on a pair of cutoffs and a tank top to run over to the stand when she wasn’t officially working, but she decides she should look more presentable. She showers and opts for a floral romper and her tan leather sandals.
Before heading over, Amelia takes the stand key from her jewelry box and slips it into her white saddlebag. For a second or two, her eyes linger on the flower pin.
She kisses it for luck.