CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE SIGN ON THE ROOF of the ice cream stand is a large rectangle made of plywood, painted white with a pink frame border, MEADE CREAMERY spelled out in thick pink script. The paint is weathered and peeling in places from being out in the elements year-round.
The entire stand gets a fresh coat of white paint at the start of every season—Amelia figures she’ll work that into the schedule maybe next week—but painting the rooftop Meade Creamery sign is a special chore reserved for the most senior girls.
Amelia remembers Frankie Ko climbing up on the ladder that first summer, with Celeste and Johanna following right behind her. When they reached the top, the three of them stretched and took deep breaths, as if the air smelled better, fresher, just a few feet up off the ground. From their elevated vantage point, Frankie supervised the rest of the chores, tossing Starbursts down to the girls for jobs well done, waving to friends who drove past the stand and beeped.
Painting the sign doesn’t take much time at all, but the older girls always milked it, rolling the sleeves of their polos up so their arms would get tan, playing music on one of their phones, using small paintbrushes to make sure the line work was super crisp.
It seems to Amelia like a perfect way to start the day.
Cate’s not exactly brimming with excitement at the idea, but she perks up some when Amelia suggests Panera for lunch, her treat.
The girls working the first shift are surprised to see Amelia and Cate there an hour earlier than scheduled. The stand seems to be running fine, though the toppings sideboard is a bit of a mess—cookie crumbs scattered everywhere, peanuts low, rainbow sprinkles sprinkled on the floor. Amelia probably should have cleaned it last night. Anyway, the three girls are quick to apologize, but they had back-to-back summer camp buses pull up in the last hour.
Amelia nods sympathetically.
As Amelia and Cate hang up their things on the hooks near the walk-in freezer, they hear Grady inside the office talking to someone. Or, rather, listening to someone talk. The voice is deep, so Amelia figures it’s Grady’s dad, and she wonders what time it might be in New Zealand. He must want to check in on Grady, she thinks, make sure he’s settling in okay.
Cate holds a finger up to her lips and she and Amelia tiptoe closer to the office door. It’s open a crack and they peek inside. Grady’s sitting behind the desk, holding up his phone, FaceTiming. He’s freshly showered and dressed up again in a button-up blue shirt and a skinny black tie.
“Did you get the pictures I sent? Of the line? Dad, I even got to shake hands with the mayor. And she said if there’s anything I need from her, I should call her office directly.”
Amelia and Cate share a look at what a big deal Grady assumes this is. He’s clearly not from a small town like Sand Lake, where everyone has a touch on the mayor.
But if his dad is impressed, he doesn’t show it. “Have you calculated your overhead?”
“I started going through her books last night.”
“You need to do a full audit. Taxes on the property, maintenance, supplies, equipment, payroll.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Well, you keep talking about how great yesterday’s take was, but without an accurate picture of operating costs, it means nothing. Without a P&L, you could be underwater, for all you know. You could be losing money.”
This strikes Amelia as dead wrong. It seems to strike Grady that way too. He argues, “Dad, this place is incredibly popular.” She’s heartened to hear him defend the stand. “I mean, my guess is that it could bring in—”
“I’m not interested in your guesses, Grady, especially not any hunches formed in under forty-eight hours on the job.”
“Yeesh,” Cate whispers, shaking her head. “This is why kids at Truman are so stressed out! They’ve got these alpha parents pushing them. I’ve heard like over half the student body is on Adderall. I feel totally lucky. My mom could have died a happy death the day I got my Truman acceptance email. Anything else I accomplish is the cherry on top.” Cate heads outside to find the paint supplies and get the ladder from the shed.
Amelia closes the office door to give Grady some privacy, and as it closes, he glances up at her and gives a grateful smile. But the office walls are thin. She can still hear them inside talking and she can’t help but linger and listen.
“Your priority right now should be business school, not this ice cream stand.”
“I’m getting independent study credit for it. My advisor signed off on everything this morning. Between this and my other online classes, it’s almost a full semester course load.”
Grady’s dad lets out a heavy sigh. “Grady. If you’re serious about this—”
“Is it not obvious that I’m serious? Dad, this is a huge opportunity for me. This could be the same kind of start for me as the billboards were for you. Did you know the Ben and Jerry’s empire began with one shop? Don’t worry about my classes. I’ll get the work done.”
“If you’re serious,” his dad reiterates, not conceding an inch, “then you need to get a business plan together, get a handle on your operational costs, and look for ways you can maximize profits. If the numbers don’t work, shut it down, sell the property, and cut your losses.”
Amelia steadies herself against the wall. Sell Meade Creamery?
“I am serious,” Grady stresses again. This time, his voice is much quieter.
Amelia doesn’t want to hear more. Thank goodness Grady isn’t entertaining that thought. And the stand is already successful. His dad will figure that out eventually.
She looks for Cate so they can start painting the sign but sees that she’s busy chatting up one of their middle school English teachers in the line, so Amelia decides to clean up the toppings sideboard.
Grady comes out of the office, rubbing his temples. He glances at the schedule and then at Amelia. “You’re here early.”
“Yeah. Cate and I are going to paint the roof sign before our shift. Is, um, everything okay?”
He works hard to smile. “Yup.”
Though she doesn’t want to press Grady, Amelia doesn’t believe him. But she does feel bad for him. And she knows just the thing to cheer him up. “Hey, do you want some ice cream?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Really? I mean, this should be one of the biggest benefits to owning an ice cream stand, right? All the ice cream you want, whenever you want it? Come on. What’s your favorite flavor?”
“I don’t know that I have one.”
“I thought you spent a whole summer here as a kid.”
Something flickers across his face as he swallows. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”
“Well, then I’m bringing you a taste of all four. A taste test. You can call it market research.”
“Market research, huh?” Grady laughs. “I guess I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“Wait here,” she says.
Amelia heads up to the windows and squeezes in between Sophie and Liz, who are both helping customers. She pushes the lid open on the scooping cabinet and gets a generous scrape of each of the four flavors on four white plastic spoons.
Grady has hopped up on the desk to wait for her. He’s scrolling on his phone when she walks in with the samples.
“Customers say the flavors in our ice cream are more intense than any other kind they’ve ever had,” she announces, and presents the ice cream spoons, two in each hand, with a little bit of a flourish, like a game show hostess. She holds vanilla up and takes a whiff of the rich, sugary smell.
“Vanilla,” she announces, and presents Grady with the spoonful of white snow. “Don’t look so excited.”
Grady doesn’t look up. “It’s vanilla. Vanilla, by its very nature, is vanilla.”
Amelia would be more annoyed if she weren’t completely confident in what she’s holding. If anything, Grady’s cockiness will only make her victory sweeter. She holds the spoon closer to his face and she can tell he smells it by the way he perks up. He puts his phone away and takes the spoon from her, examining it skeptically.
Grady says, “Vanilla can’t ever be a ten. The best vanilla in the world is, like, a six, max.”
“What an ignorant thing to say. Now, close your eyes. I want you to concentrate on the flavors.”
Grady barks a laugh. “Wow, you’re bossy today.”
“Don’t be sexist.”
His cheeks glow. “Sorry. I was kidding.” He closes his eyes.
Amelia hands Grady the spoon and watches intently, brimming with excitement, as he takes his first lick. “Huh. That’s pretty good.” His eyes flutter open as he takes a second taste. On his third, he cleans the spoon. “It’s, like, infinitely more vanilla-y than the fro-yo place on campus.”
“Duh. Fro-yo is basically frozen chemicals. This is ice cream.” She takes the used spoon from him and tosses it into the garbage can, pleased that his bad mood has already vanished and there are still three flavors to go. “Now, would you please look at this color!” she says, holding up the chocolate. “It’s like tar.”
“Marketing tip. Think aspirational. Tar is not a good descriptor for something you want people to eat.”
“Okay, it’s like”—her eyes brighten—“fudge at midnight.”
“Yes! That! Exactly!”
She hands him the spoon. “Hurry up before these melt.”
This time, Grady closes his eyes and goes right in, taking the whole bite at once. “Whoa. That’s intense. It’s almost . . . bitter.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Not in a bad way. It’s really sophisticated.”
“Next is strawberry,” Amelia says, but Grady shakes his head.
“I want more chocolate.” Peeking at her, he opens his mouth to be fed.
Amelia feels her heart speed up. Ignoring him, she hands him the next spoon. “Our strawberry,” she announces, “is the most beautiful shade of pink. Not pale, like the weak stuff you get from the grocery store. Deep. Lively. Also, you’ll never bite into an icy chunk of strawberry. It’s completely incorporated.”
Grady’s eyes go wide as he tastes. “Holy shit.”
“No cursing in the stand, please. But I know, right?” she says. “And this . . . this is Home Sweet Home,” Amelia says, putting the spoon in his hand. She’s surprised how nervous she feels. She wants Grady to love it as much as she does.
“Ahhh yes. You know, that reporter guy told me this might be the biggest unsolved mystery in Sand Lake,” he says, examining the spoon.
“Last year, a guy offered me fifty bucks to tell him.”
“Did you?” he asks, grinning.
Amelia cocks her head. “Uh, no.” After all, how could she? The only one who knew the recipes was Molly.
And now, Grady.
“Come to think of it,” he says, “I should probably require all the girls to sign NDAs.”
“What’s an NDA?”
“A nondisclosure agreement. It means if they tell anyone our recipes, I can sue them for damages.” He pops the spoon into his mouth.
“That’s a bit overkill, don’t you think? None of us know—”
She quiets, watching Grady’s strange reaction. He blinks a few times, almost stunned by what he’s tasting. Then his jaw sets, his brow furrows, and he forces a swallow after a most unpleasant battle of his will. Once he gets it down, his face is totally unguarded, because he’s been blindsided. He can’t even pretend to hide what he’s feeling—an emotion Amelia never would have expected.
Sadness.
“Hey, Amelia? You ready to paint?”
Amelia spins as Cate enters the office, and she takes a giant step away from Grady; until this moment she hasn’t realized how close she’s been standing to him. Grady hops off the desk and hustles out.
“Market research,” Amelia tells her, answering a question that Cate hasn’t asked in too loud a voice.
Cate cocks her head. “Uh-huh.”
Amelia grabs the Panera bag with the sandwiches, nervously passing Grady on her way outside. She isn’t sure if he looks at her, but she sure as heck doesn’t look at him.
As Cate climbs up the ladder with the paint cans and the brushes, Amelia notices something from her vantage point on the ground. Certain boards—the ones higher up—are peeling white paint faster than others.
“Throw me up the sandwiches!” Cate instructs.
Amelia tosses the bag and climbs the ladder, pausing at the top to inspect that wood. More paint flakes away when she touches it; it’s barely sticking. Underneath, the wood is damp and soft with rot.
“Holy crap, Amelia. You have to see this.”
Amelia hoists herself up and over the lip of the roof.
At first, she thinks Cate is talking about the view. Because, on her tiptoes, she can make out a bit of the lake, see the green trees and the rooftops of a few houses, see up and down Route 68 for miles. She knows in her heart that Sand Lake is the most beautiful place in the world, even though she’s never really been anywhere else.
“Not out there! Look down.”
She does, and at her feet are signatures in pink paint, hundreds of them. The names of the girls who’ve worked at Meade Creamery over the years cover the entire roof. Some are faded, some fresh, and plenty are illegible because the shingles have shifted or chipped, the broken pieces clogging the gutters with last fall’s leaves. She bends down, wishing she had time to put the puzzle back together.
They pop their paint cans and get to work, adding another coat of white on the sign and pink for the letters. Though before they do, Amelia uses the handle of her paintbrush to scrape away an abandoned, flaking wasps’ nest from the bottom of the sign. No wonder they had so much trouble with them last summer.
They play music, shout hello to some friends in line, sit back and lazily eat their sandwiches. “Do you think you’ll come back to Sand Lake next summer?” Amelia asks.
“Amelia! Why are you already thinking about next summer? We’ve barely started this one.”
“I’m just saying that I definitely want to come home,” Amelia says, a tad defensive. “I already miss it here.”
“Just make sure you keep yourself open to other opportunities. You could score a killer internship somewhere.”
“Maybe.” Amelia shrugs. Though that feels like a remote possibility, considering she even doesn’t know what she wants to study. “You’re coming home for Thanksgiving, right?”
“If I didn’t, my mom would kill me. Christmas, too. Those holidays are mandatory.”
“Gibbons doesn’t go back from winter break until the middle of January. What about Truman?”
Cate shrugs. “No clue.”
They find a spot to paint their names. Right next to each other, where the roof tiles still seem in decent shape. Cate adds a heart surrounding them, and also the last two numbers of the year. It’s how she signed everyone’s yearbooks.
When they finish, they lie down next to their names and take a few selfies together for posterity. They have fifteen minutes before their shift when Amelia starts packing things up. Cate says, “Let’s hang out here for just a little while longer,” and pulls Amelia back down.
Amelia rocks into her. “See? Aren’t you glad you didn’t stay at JumpZone? You would have never known about this roof. Your name wouldn’t have been here with the other girls who’ve worked here. Now we’re officially a part of this place forever.”
“I was never going to stay at JumpZone!”
“Okay, okay.”
“But you’re right. This is pretty cool. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.” And together, they use their hands to help fan the paint dry, so nothing messes up their place in Meade Creamery history.