CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
WHEN IT COMES TO MAKING ice cream, Amelia is getting better, faster, more efficient. Like this morning, instead of plucking individual honeysuckle flowers, she’s in the driveway using a pair of pruning shears to snip blossom-laden branches, putting those glass vases inside Molly Meade’s cabinets to good use.
“Amelia! Can you come here for a sec?” Cate is standing half out the side stand door, waving her hands.
Amelia sets down her bundle and heads to the stand.
She’s thinking maybe Cate has a question for her about something stand-related. She’s probably diving into the things Amelia has been neglecting. “How’s it going?”
“Terrific!”
Amelia looks at the tip jar. It’s bursting with money. “Looks like you’re killing it today.”
“Customers are happy again, now that all the flavors are back.” Cate smiles, pleased, and dumps the jar out on the desk. “You should talk to Grady. However long he’s going to have you up at the house, you’re losing out on tips.” She starts smoothing out her bills.
“That’s true,” Amelia says, though she has no intention of talking to Grady about that. She has been happy working up at the house. On the corner of the desk, she notices a stack of papers.
Newbie applications. There are maybe fifty, filled out.
“I put them out yesterday,” Cate says, and then winks. “Word travels fast.”
“You’re hiring newbies? But summer’s half over.”
“Um, yeah! How else is the legacy supposed to go on? You want Bern or Sophie to have to hire and train five girls next summer?”
“That’s true.”
Cate peels the top application off the stack. It’s been flagged with a little pink Post-it. “Listen to what this girl wrote for why she wants to work here. Mostly looking to up my tolerance for ice cream headaches. Also, cash money.” Cate giggles. “You know she’s going to be fun to work with.”
“She sounds like a young you,” Amelia says.
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Double the big tip earners!” Cate shuffles some papers to the next one she’s flagged. “And listen to this one.” She clears her throat. “I’m brand-new to Sand Lake and I have no friends. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ll take any shift you’ve got. I’ve seriously got nothing else to do this summer.” Cate puts down the paper. “How great would this be for her? She’ll meet people, she’ll get to arrive at high school next year and have friends. This summer could change her life.”
Amelia smiles. Cate’s right. This is important. A job at Meade Creamery could completely change someone’s life.
Cate picks a third newbie résumé out of the pile for a reason she does not share. Then she lifts the receiver of the black telephone.
“Wait. I’m just wondering if maybe you shouldn’t clear these with Grady first.” Cate frowns, and Amelia treads lightly. “I just don’t want him to raise any objections after the fact.”
Cate bristles at the suggestion. “That’s not how it’s ever worked. The Head Girl makes the call. And that’s me.”
“Okay, okay.”
Cate dials her first pick. She uses a low voice to say, “Kimmy Fox, you have been chosen as a Meade Creamery girl. Get ready to have the best summer of your life.”
Amelia can hear giggling and screaming on the other end.
As Cate phones her next girl, Amelia remembers when she got the call.
It came in as her family sat down to dinner. Amelia had gotten some texts from friends who’d just heard Cate Kopernick had been hired for one of the two openings.
If Cate was the kind of girl they were looking for, then Amelia knew she had no chance. But she still waited with hope during the next few minutes for her phone to ring, before slowly setting her hot dog down, nudging her dinner plate away, and lowering her forehead to the table.
Her dream, dashed.
“I guess it was naive of us to think she wouldn’t start acting like a high schooler until September,” her mom said, a bite of salad hanging from her fork. Her dad, who was turned sideways from the table so he could see the baseball game on the television in the living room, laughed.
And then her phone rang.
She pushed back hard from the table, knocking her mom’s lemonade over. Amelia said sorrysorrysorry before bolting out the back door and across the lawn to the shed. Leaning against it, she took a deep breath before answering.
The girl on the other end didn’t introduce herself, though Amelia knows now it was Frankie Ko. All she said was “You’re in. See you tomorrow at eleven sharp.” Then the line went dead.
Later that night, she got a text from Cate. Amelia still isn’t sure who gave Cate her number. She was friendly with Cate, but no one would have called them friends. Cate was in the group of girls who took a limo to the eighth-grade dinner dance. But they texted the entire night, all caps and exclamation marks. Even if they weren’t close, they knew that by the end of that summer they would be. That was the magic of Meade Creamery.
“You call the last girl?” Cate says, holding out the receiver.
“No, that’s okay.”
“Amelia! Come on. Don’t you want to be a part of this?”
She does. And it is nice of Cate to include her. Amelia takes the phone while Cate dials.
“What’s her name?” Amelia asks, but the girl picks up before Cate can tell her.
“Hello?” comes a small voice.
Amelia tries to hang up the phone, because she hasn’t even thought about what to say, but Cate pushes her hand away, laughing.
“Hello?” the girl says.
Amelia clears her throat and makes her voice low, but it gets stuck somewhere in her throat. “Hello. You’ve been hired at Meade Creamery for this summer.” The girl on the other end sounds like she’s going to hyperventilate. Amelia swears she can hear her smiling. “Be here tomorrow at noon o’clock.” Noon o’clock? Amelia looks at Cate, who busts up laughing and tries to muffle it by pressing her face into one of the love seat cushions.
“Wait. Is this a joke?” the girl on the phone asks.
“No. Not a joke. See you tomorrow,” Amelia says, back in her normal voice, and then quickly hangs up.
Cate is still dying. “Noon o’clock!”
“Oh my God, I suck!”
* * *
The pink Cadillac pulls in as Amelia’s leaving. Grady has the trunk open and filled with lumber, the backseat with brand-new tools.
“What’s all this?”
“I was up early, looking at the stand. It’s actually in worse shape than you thought. It’s kind of a miracle this place is still standing.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to replace all the rotting boards, seal the concrete, and try to figure out a fix for the roof that keeps those signatures in place. A Home Depot guy was talking about this water sealant I can try. And when I’m done, the stand will be good as new.”
“You’ve got time for this? With all your schoolwork? And the stand stuff?” That said, she understands his urgency. Grady’s avoided dealing with his mother’s death for too long. Fortifying the stand is a chance for him to right some of those wrongs.
Grady’s cell phone rings. He quickly puts the call through to voice mail, and the look on his face when he does it tells Amelia exactly who it is. “Yeah. This is important.”
* * *
Later that day, Amelia makes herself a dish of ice cream and takes it out to the front stairs of Molly’s house. The echo of Grady’s hammer can be heard all the way up here. She opens the diary on her lap.
July 30, 1945
It’s the night before I’ll be selling the ice cream at our farm stand. I’ve tried my best to prepare, get familiar with my new machine, which only arrived three days ago. Tiggy stayed so late tonight, helping me to get everything set up. She’s never worked harder in her life but she didn’t complain, not once.
I love her so much.
Meanwhile, every time Mother sees my ice cream machine, she frowns. And she tells everyone exactly how expensive it was.
If this ice cream thing doesn’t work, I told her I’ll sell it. She says I’ll have to, or else I’ll be marrying Wayne in a Sunday dress in the fields.
She says that to scare me, but if that’s the worst thing that happens, I think I’ll be fine.