CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN AMELIA ANSWERS HER PHONE the next morning, Cate is undiluted cheer and brightness. “Since we don’t have work, let’s spend the day at the lake!”
It strikes Amelia as funny to hear Cate put it that way because it’s not like this is a normal day off. Everything about their summer has changed. Amelia rolls over and looks out her window. It’s sunny with a cloudless blue sky. A perfect lake day. “Great idea,” she says, because really, it would be a sin not to enjoy a day like this. “I’ll make us sandwiches.”
She makes turkey and Swiss with mayo for herself, lettuce and cucumber and Swiss with mayo for Cate. There’s one Coke in the fridge, which is fine; they’ll split it.
Back upstairs, she digs in the bottom of her underwear drawer for her bathing suit. She puts it on, slides on a cotton sundress over top, and pulls her ponytail through a Gibbons baseball cap.
Then, as she waits on her front steps for Cate to arrive, she sends a text to the other girls, letting them know that she and Cate will be at the lake, in case anyone wants to join them. A few say they’ll try to make it. But then the group conversation shifts to what the summer will hold for the girls now that the stand is no longer around. They talk about which stores at the mall would be cool to work at. Sephora seems to be the consensus, that or Barnes & Noble.
Amelia can’t blame them for moving on. Maybe she’d be excited for something new too, if this weren’t her last summer here. If she hadn’t been the one to find Molly’s body. If there weren’t already so much change on the horizon for her, with college just around the corner. She will have to get a new job, for sure. Her Meade Creamery salary went straight into her college savings account, but her tips funded her summer fun—money to chip in for Cate’s gas, clothes, movie tickets, and Starbucks.
Before heading to the lake, Cate stops at the gas station to fill up and buy a pair of cheap sunglasses. They walk inside and wave hello to Peyton Pierce—a junior who was in Amelia’s Spanish II class—working behind the register.
Peyton, Amelia remembers, orders either a vanilla cone with chocolate sprinkles or a cup of Home Sweet Home with peanuts, and he reliably throws his change into the girls’ tip jar. It’s never very much, maybe sixty cents, but Amelia appreciates the gesture. Kids their age hardly ever think to tip. She wonders if Peyton, or anyone else in town for that matter, knows that Meade Creamery is closed forever.
“Hey,” Cate says from behind the sunglasses display. “Did you ever write back to your roommate at Gibbons? Whatsherface?”
“Cecilia Brewster.”
“Cecilia and Amelia,” Cate repeats with dramatic flair, and has a good chuckle.
Amelia winces. “Ugh. How did I not notice that before?”
“Well . . . did you?”
“Not yet.”
“Amelia. She’s going to think you’re weird. Write her back.”
“Okay, okay.”
While Cate tries on sunglasses, Amelia takes out her phone, intending to respond to Cecilia. But she gets distracted by the rack of newspapers. She flips through the Sand Lake Ledger, looking for a mention of Molly Meade’s death. A knot tightens inside her when there isn’t one.
“Should I have written an obituary for Molly?”
Cate looks over the top of some mirrored aviators. “No one could think that’s your responsibility, Amelia.” She spins the plastic rack. “That’s like . . . a family’s job.”
“Yeah, except she doesn’t have any family.”
“Fine, it’s at least a friend’s job. You didn’t even know her!”
It stings Amelia a little, even though she knows Cate doesn’t mean it that way. “All the summers we worked there, when did you ever see friends at Molly Meade’s house?”
“I bet someone from the newspaper does a story on her.” Cate takes off the aviators and tries a pair of turquoise knock-off Ray-Bans. They make her hair look extra blond. “These ones,” Cate says, smiling at her reflection. “Right?”
Amelia nods. “Love them.”
As they walk up to Peyton’s register, Amelia passes a small selection of cat food. Five cans for five dollars. Okay, so an obituary isn’t her responsibility. But what about Molly’s poor kitten? Who will feed him now that she’s gone?
Amelia picks cans in a variety of flavors—Salmon Feast, Whitefish, Roast Chicken, skipping Turkey and Giblets because gross—then stands behind Cate in line. Cate glances back at her, confused.
“Don’t ask,” Amelia says, unzipping her purse. “But can we please stop by the stand quick before we head to the lake?”
* * *
Cate’s truck hops the lip of the road. They don’t need to bother with the parking lot chain, just make a wide turn and pick up Molly’s driveway. She points across the cab and out Amelia’s window. “Your newbie sign is still up.”
“I wonder how many girls came yesterday,” Amelia says, wistfully. “You know what’s crazy to think about? Even after everyone in Sand Lake finds out that Molly Meade is dead, vacationers will be stopping by here all summer.”
“Probably for the next few years,” Cate muses.
Amelia shakes her head. It’s beyond depressing—the thought of people driving past this place year after year, seeing it slowly decompose, rotting until it falls over, the way some other properties in town have, when there isn’t anyone around to care for them.
Up at the farmhouse, things are quiet, which is a relief to Amelia after last night. She gets out of the truck and clicks her tongue for the black-and-white kitten. There’s no sign of him.
Someone did move Molly’s Cadillac up here. Amelia looks inside. The keys are on the dashboard. It must have been the police here last night, she’s sure of it now. They probably swung by to move Molly’s car and make sure the property was secure. Amelia wonders what will happen to the stuff inside the farmhouse. The things Molly Meade collected over her lifetime.
On her way up the front stairs, Amelia steps around a chipped teacup half full of brown triangles of cat food. She opens the cans she brought and sets them down on the steps. Despite her being picky about flavors, they all smell horrible.
While Cate tries to find better music on the radio, Amelia calls the local Animal Control to see if someone can come to the farmhouse with a trap. As the line rings, she leans over the railing. The front window is curtained with a sun-bleached bedsheet. There’s nothing to see besides a couple of dead ladybugs lying belly-up on the sill.
She’s starting to leave a message when Cate gets out of the truck, shielding her eyes from the sun—forgetting, Amelia guesses, about the new sunglasses perched in her hair. She hops up the stairs, passing Amelia, and opens the screen door.
Amelia covers the phone. “What are you doing?”
With a devious smile, Cate reaches for the doorknob.
For a second, Amelia can’t breathe.
Cate pulls a couple of times, hard, and the door shakes on its hinges. “Locked,” she announces, glum. “But could you imagine?” She backs down two, three steps and gazes up at the farmhouse. “I would love to see what Molly’s got inside there. What she did with all her money. Maybe she’s got a crazy fine art collection. That house could be full of Picassos or whatever.”
Amelia seriously doubts that, though she would love to look inside the farmhouse too. As much as everyone in Sand Lake knew Molly Meade, she was also a complete mystery.
After leaving a message, Amelia hangs up and pulls Cate back over to the truck by her arm. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”
* * *
There are already plenty of kids from their high school at the lake, blankets and towels spread out in the same groups found during the school year in the cafeteria, a catwalk of sand in between clusters. Amelia expects someone will ask about Molly Meade, wondering why she and Cate are at the lake and not at the ice cream stand getting it ready to open tomorrow, but no one does.
They claim an open spot away from the tree line and spread out their towels. Cate’s bikini is dark green with fuchsia trim and the tanner she gets, the better it looks on her. Amelia’s wearing her favorite bikini from last summer—light blue gingham, high-waisted, with a demi-cup top. She feels like a glamorous old-time movie star when she’s wearing it. It’s also great because she doesn’t have to be nearly as dutiful as Cate with her bikini line.
The girls coat their bodies with coconut oil. Amelia puts sunscreen on her face to keep it from freckling and Cate sprays her hair with another bottle that will eventually turn it white blond. Cate stretches out long and lean and lets out a happy sigh.
“How great if we could do this all summer? Just be beach bums until we leave for college.”
Amelia settles in too, tipping her baseball cap so it’s sitting on top of her face. “Maybe if I got a scholarship like you, I could.”
“My scholarship isn’t going to cover everything. College textbooks are hella expensive.”
“We should try job hunting together. Make us a package deal.”
She hears Cate sit up. Cate lifts the cap off Amelia’s face. “Umm. So I have something to tell you. I already got another job.”
Amelia sits up on her knees. “Wait, what? When?”
Guiltily, Cate says, “Yesterday afternoon. While you were sleeping.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” As soon as Amelia says it, she knows. The real impetus for the impromptu trip to the ice cream stand was Cate’s guilt.
“I don’t know. I guess . . . I knew you were already upset about Molly and I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Where are you working?”
Cate hides behind her hands. “JumpZone.”
JumpZone is a newish business that opened near the Walmart. It’s a place full of huge inflatable bounce houses and slides that people rent out for little-kid birthday parties.
“Are they still hiring?” Amelia asks, desperate.
Cate peeks through her fingers. “I don’t think?” After rubbing her face, she drops her hands and reveals a hangdog pout. “Anyway, you don’t want to work there. It’s going to suck. Super-early mornings, inside, screaming kids.”
Amelia feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She lowers herself back onto her towel.
Cate returns Amelia’s cap and then takes a sip of their shared Coke. “Don’t be mad. You know I hate the thought of us not working together but I need the money.”
“It feels like summer’s already over.”
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d applied to Truman.”
“Cate, please. I never would have gotten in.” Truman is one of the best universities in the country. It’s incredibly selective. Of course Cate got in. She got in everywhere she applied.
“Come on. You got into Gibbons! And that was your reach! Which you also wouldn’t have applied to if not for me.”
This is true. Amelia was accepted to a few small schools, all close to home. But when Gibbons, a much better school that Cate had basically forced her to apply to, said yes, going seemed like a foregone conclusion. Her parents were thrilled, and so was Cate. Amelia was too, though she still, even now, has a hard time imagining herself living so far from Sand Lake.
Cate turns her head. Amelia sees a pack of gangly young girls, eighth graders, timidly approaching them.
“Can I help you?” Cate asks.
“Are either of you Amelia Van Hagen?”
Cate snickers and returns to her magazine.
“I’m Amelia,” Amelia quickly answers, with a touch of nervous laugher. “Do you girls need something?”
“You’re the Head Girl of Meade Creamery, right?” Amelia nods. “We wanted to know if it was true. If the stand really is closed for the summer.”
Cate flips a page.
“Yes,” Amelia says. “I’m very sorry to say that it is.”
The girls exchange disappointed looks. “Oh, okay. Thanks for letting us know.”
“I’m sure you’ll find other great jobs!” Amelia calls after them. She keeps watching until the girls reach their beach towels. Then, to Cate, she wonders aloud, “Did we ever look that young?”
Cate has her magazine up in front of her face. She’s not even looking when she says, “Nope.”
“Do you think we would have been best friends if we hadn’t worked at the stand together?”
“I don’t like thinking about that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes everything feel fragile when it’s actually solid. And anyway, what does it matter? We are best friends, and we always will be.”
Amelia flips over onto her stomach and closes her eyes. Before she got to know Cate, Amelia couldn’t imagine being friends with her. Cate was one of the girls who took a limo to the eighth-grade dinner dance. And now that they are best friends, Amelia can’t imagine life without her. Lots of things change, but thank goodness, that never will.