CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TURNS OUT THERE ARE LOTS of ways to screw up ice cream. Turns out it’s not easy to make something not just good, but deliciously good. Molly’s ice creams, Amelia realizes now, are deceptively simple. There’s chocolate and then there’s chocolate, like comparing a Hershey’s Kiss with a Godiva truffle. And though her failures gives her a newfound respect for Molly, it’s also incredibly frustrating, because she is so painfully far from getting it right.
Still, she keeps at it for the rest of the day, batch after batch, cycling through all aspects of the process, cooking up a new base with ingredients slightly tweaked from the last, while another batch cools in the blast chiller, while another one churns inside the ice cream maker. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Her arms feel heavier than after gym class push-ups, and her lower back aches from standing. And yet, time passes like magic. Hours feel like minutes, minutes feel like nothing.
If the learning curve weren’t so steep, Amelia might believe she was getting somewhere.
There is no eyeballing, no freestyling, the way her dad likes to in the kitchen, a pinch of this, a glug of that. Making ice cream isn’t cooking, it’s chemistry. Unfortunately, Amelia got a B in chemistry her sophomore year, unjustly she believed, and she never forgave Mr. Dunlap for it, returning his hellos with a frown for the rest of high school once she got her report card. Now she knows a B was too generous. Cringing, she thinks about apologizing to him the next time he comes to the stand, maybe even paying for his order out of her tips.
Take chocolate. Add too much of Molly’s homemade fudge sauce and the ice cream is thin and runny. Too little, and the chocolate flavor is nothing but an undertone, muted by other ingredients. Or it might taste decent as a finished base out of the blast chiller, but once it goes through the ice cream machine, the flavor is cloudy.
And that’s just the flavoring. If the measurement of any ingredient isn’t just right, the ice cream comes out gritty, or buttery, or eggy.
Timing is also a huge issue. Churn it too little in the ice cream machine and it pours out a slushy mess that won’t ever firm up, no matter how long you put it in the deep freezer. Churn it too long and the ice cream comes out solid as a brick, hard enough to snap a plastic spoon in half.
It’s an almost-impossible puzzle that Amelia must solve three different times, for vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.
And Home Sweet Home? She doesn’t even know where to start with that one.
The clock is ticking, and the remaining stock dwindling.
Grady comes down looking somber. “I have bad news.”
“What?” Amelia doesn’t take her eyes off the whirling ice cream machine, like a kid too close to the television. The batch she’s churning now is the closest she’s come. Good dark color, good depth of chocolateyness when the base went in.
“I’ve gone through all the boxes upstairs. No recipes.” His voice is almost toneless, resigned.
It’s all on her now.
Amelia pushes the lever and a stream of ice cream comes sliding out the chute.
Grady asks, “Can I try?”
But Amelia sees something she doesn’t like. The color is . . . off. She takes a taste and knows immediately. It’s tainted. “I forgot to clean the machine out from the last batch of strawberry I ran.”
“Chocolate and strawberries go together, though, right? That’s a thing!” Grady says, trying to be helpful.
She bites her lip and stares up at the ceiling, hoping to keep the tears in her eyes from spilling down her cheeks. She made a dumb mistake because she’s tired. But there’s no time for dumb mistakes. She takes the entire drum over to the sink and turns on the hot water full blast so the ice cream breaks apart and sinks down the drain.
“Amelia, wait! It could have been good—”
“No. I screwed it up.”
He softens his tone when he sees how near to tears she is. “At this point, I think we give up on right and aim for good enough.”
Amelia shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
The front doorbell rings.
Jogging upstairs, he says, “You can’t let this get personal. It’s business.”
Amelia leans her hands against the counter, stretches her back. Everything about this business is becoming very personal to her.
“So this is where the magic happens.” Cate comes down the stairs.
Amelia rushes over and almost tackles her in a hug. “Cate!”
“I’ve been texting you all afternoon.” Cate squeezes her back, then peels away, concerned. “You’re soaked.”
Amelia glances down at herself. There are sweat marks on her shirt, from her armpits down to her waist.
“No air-conditioning.” She feels woozy and leans against the refrigerator. It’s cool against her skin. “What time is it?”
“Six thirty.” Cate’s tone is clipped. “Have you had dinner yet? Or even lunch?”
“I’ll order us some pizza,” Grady volunteers, having only made it halfway down the stairs before he pivots and heads back up.
“She might not want pizza,” Cate calls back, snippy. And then, to Amelia, “You’ve been working for how long today? Have you taken even one break?”
“Nine hours? Ten?” Amelia says. “And no, not yet.”
Grady descends the basement steps, uneasy. “Pizza’s on the way. Cate, do you want to join us?”
“I don’t think so,” Cate says.
“Oh, and Amelia, I can drive you home tonight, whenever you want to call it quits,” Grady offers.
Cate gives a thin-lipped smile to Grady. To Amelia, she says sharply, “Walk me out?”
It feels disorienting to be outside after spending hours in Molly Meade’s basement. Amelia takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the pinkish evening light. “Thanks. I think you’re right. I needed this to clear my head.”
“Is something going on between you and Grady?”
Amelia startles. “No. I’m . . . just trying to help the stand.”
“How do you see this ending?”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
Cate takes her by the shoulders. “Well, maybe you should? Before you get trapped up here, making ice cream day in and day out like Molly Meade.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I know you. You’re sensitive, you’re caring, and you’ll do anything for anybody. Those are the things I love best about you, Amelia, but they also make you vulnerable to getting taken advantage of. You are so invested in this ice cream stand and helping Grady be a success. And you’ve known him for what? A couple of weeks?”
“I . . . want to figure this out.”
Cate shakes her head. “If I’d known it would be like this . . .”
“Like what?”
“Let me ask you something: Is this the summer you wanted? Because I gotta be honest. It’s not the one I wanted. I mean, sure, I’m having fun with all the girls, but I wish you were with me.”
A lump rises in Amelia’s throat. “I know. I do too.” Has she let Grady take advantage of her niceness?
“We’ve worked one week with each other this summer. One. Week. We’re short-staffed, I’m picking up all your slack, trying to keep everyone happy and having fun for no thanks, no extra pay. And the reason why I came back was so that we could hang out together! I mean, that’s how you said it would be.”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispers.
“What are you even doing down there? Just, like, Frankensteining a bunch of random recipes together?”
“Basically.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“Except it’s really not. Sure, I’m tired. I’m frustrated. But I’m having fun trying to solve this puzzle.”
“It’s sounds like you have Stockholm syndrome.”
“I think I’m getting close.”
“To Home Sweet Home?”
“No. I haven’t even attempted that one. I’m talking about chocolate. Less so on strawberry. Every batch comes out icy. And with vanilla, I’m still—”
“Will you please listen to yourself? You sound ridiculous!”
Amelia gazes down at her Keds. Yes, she looks terrible. And yes, she was just crying. But this is important to her, and she doesn’t understand why Cate’s dismissing that. “If I can’t get this right, Meade Creamery is going to close. All the girls will be out of jobs.”
“When Molly died, I got another job that same day. We can get other jobs. So who cares?”
Amelia nods like she concedes Cate’s point, even though she does care. She can’t explain why, but she cares so freaking much.
Cate continues, “And to be honest, I doubt any of the girls will want to come back after this summer. The freezer is almost empty. You’re totally MIA. They know something’s up. I’m doing my best to keep Grady’s secret, but there’s a major undercurrent of what the hell is going on here.”
Amelia’s phone alarm begins to chime. Another batch is ready to go into the ice cream machine. Another chance, hopefully another step closer.
“I promise I will make this up to you! And all the girls, too!” Amelia says, backing away from Cate. But making amends will have to happen later.
Back in the basement, she finds Grady waiting for her, wringing his hands. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“You don’t have to stay. I know this is my problem. And I don’t want to cause trouble between you and Cate.”
“I want to stay,” Amelia says. And it feels good to tell someone, even if it’s just Grady, that tiny truth.