Best Served Cold

by Emma Hart

  My stomach rumbled.

  He grinned.

  “Yeah,” I said, tugging the sheet around me a little tighter. “I could eat a Pop Tart.”

  ***

  Grandma stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she worked on the huge chalkboard that was slowly becoming my new menu. Her artistic streak ranged from paintings to baking to typography, and now, I was super thankful for that last one.

  I had the handwriting of a ten-year-old boy on a good day. I certainly couldn’t create a menu as pretty as hers would be.

  “How was your night?” she asked, focused entirely on what she was doing. “You didn’t come home.”

  I blushed as I dipped the brush into the paint. “I texted you.”

  “I know you did. I’m just terribly nosy.”

  I laughed as I painted the second coat of pink onto the underside of the main counter. “It was good. We ate burgers, and I found out that lobsters don’t mate for life, but penguins do, and otters pick a rock to be their favorite.”

  Grandma laughed. “Random information.”

  “That’s exactly what I said. Did you know lobsters didn’t mate for life?”

  “Yes, but then again, I didn’t rely on a nineties sitcom to provide me with accurate knowledge.” She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Or for Phoebe Buffet to know much of any real-world facts. Mystical was more her stretch of knowledge.”

  “I know. I just assumed it was true.”

  “Try the Discovery Channel if you want facts.”

  “I’ll just use Google.” I shrugged and lay down on my belly to make sure I didn’t overlap onto the white.

  “So. What’s going on with you two?”

  My mind drifted back to our conversation last night. Technically, we were back together, but saying it out loud felt weird. Not that it was wrong or that it was stupid, but labeling it…

  I don’t know. Labeling it felt weird. In my eyes, we just were. I hadn’t expected this to happen, and a part of me was still trying to wrap my head around it all.

  I was due to reopen the store in two days. Today would be the last day of renovations, and tomorrow would be for reorganizing and making all the ice cream.

  I wanted to focus on that, not my relationship with Chase and putting it into a tidy box. I didn’t think it needed to be in a tidy box.

  I mean, I’d woken up in his bed wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. You didn’t do that with booty calls.

  Or exes.

  Unless you were dating them again.

  So, there we were. Not that I could use that description to my grandmother, of course.

  “I assume by your silence—and sleepover—that things are going well,” she said.

  “That’s a good way to put it.” I sat back up and crossed my legs, carefully resting the brush on the top of the paint can. “We’re…in a place that I didn’t think we’d get to again.”

  “What she’s trying to say,” Chase’s voice came from behind me. “Is that we’re back together, but if it isn’t an ice cream tub, she doesn’t want to put a label on it.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him as Grandma laughed. “That was helpful. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grinned, then bent down and kissed me.

  I blushed and dipped my head.

  Grandma snorted. “Please. I’ve seen far worse from far uglier. I’m glad you kids sorted your issues out. Stubborn as all hell you were, Rae.”

  “Can we not?” I asked. “Are you here to help? How’s the vanilla ice cream?”

  “Not giving Marnie a panic attack anymore.” His eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I won’t do it again, Mr. Order-In-The-Ice cream.”

  Grandma tutted. “Blasphemy.”

  Chase held up his hands. “Don’t worry. I won’t be ordering any more ice cream.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean.”

  “You’ll see.” He half-smiled. “Also, no, I’m not here to help. Sorry—I know I said I would, but your grandpa called me about half an hour ago and asked if I’d give him a hand to get your final two tables sanded so you can paint them tomorrow.”

  I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m never going to get everything done.”

  “Yes, you are.” Chase crouched in front of me and cupped my chin. “Between us, we can do it. Even if we have to coerce Sophie into getting her hands dirty at the kitchen sink.”

  Yeah. And that was a flying pig that just went past outside.

  “He’s right,” Grandma sang, still bent over the huge chalkboard. “We’ll get it done. I promise.”

  “I’m holding you both to that,” I warned them.

  “Duly noted,” she replied.

  Chase just grinned. “I’ll see you later when we bring the tables, okay?”

  “Okay. And try not to put any quiz shows on in the garage, all right? I need those tables.”

  He kissed me again before backing to the door. “I make no promises. Also, I did actually bring reinforcements.” He shot me a small look before stepping and making way for my mom to fill the doorframe.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “I heard you needed a hand.”

  My first instinct was to tell her no—to tell her I didn’t need her and to leave.

  But, for the first time since she’d arrived at the house a few days ago, I looked her in the eye. I saw her masked pain and how badly she wanted to help, and there was no way I could turn her away.

  Besides—I’d worked through my issues with Chase. I wanted to do that with her, too.

  I picked up a clean paintbrush and held it out for her. “The high counter needs painting pink if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

  She smiled, taking the brush from me. “I got it. Let’s do this.” She immediately bustled over to the counter and as she searched for the screwdriver to open the can of paint, I met Grandma’s eyes.

  She smiled.

  I did, too.

  Maybe I could get this store open on time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – CHASE

  Sam was sitting on the floor, hunched over one of Rae’s cone tables. The sanding machine in his hands made one hell of a noise, and I waited for him to finish sanding the top flat before making myself known.

  He tossed sandpaper at me before I could even say a word. “I did the other already. Smooth it all off for me.”

  I picked the paper up from the floor and went over to the other table without a word. The sander was already running before I’d even sat on the dirty, dusty ground.

  We worked for an hour before either of us spoke again.

  “You two back together?” Sam asked, looking over at me.

  I nodded once. “Not that she’ll tell you that.”

  He barked a laugh. “Why am I not surprised at that at all?”

  “Same reason I’m not.” I smirked at him. “She’s a pain in the ass.”

  “That she is, son, but so are you. Birds of a feather and all that.”

  “I thought I was here to help, not get bullied by an old man.”

  Sam laughed again, standing up. “Boy, you’re the one who called me, no matter what you tell that girl. If you call me, you come to help me. Now, what do you want?”

  “Can we go sit in the kitchen?”

  “No. We got work to do. Spit it out.”

  Ornery old man. “I’m closing the store.”

  That made him stop. One grey, bushy eyebrow raised in question. “Your store?”

  I nodded. “I never opened it to hurt Rae, and now Best Served Cold is almost ready, I don’t see a need to keep the Spoon open any longer. Besides, I don’t really enjoy it that much.”

  “What are you gonna do with it?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I think we can go into business together.”

  Sam folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “You do, do you?”

  “Yes,” I sai
d, getting up and putting my hands in my pockets. “You wouldn’t have to do much of anything. You have all this stuff stockpiled here—the birdhouses, the bug hotels—hell, Sam, you even have three sets of end tables over there in the corner taking up the room. You wouldn’t have to show up at the store. We can take all the stuff you make for fun and sell it.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “And commission work?”

  “Can either be done through you or they can leave requests at the store. We can keep a catalog of your work there.”

  “What about the winter?”

  “It’s in my tenancy that I don’t have to open November through January. Between the two of us over those months, we could get enough done to last the first few months of the year.”

  “And tourists?”

  “Make touristy things. Wooden magnets in the shape of the Keys or things that are associated with the island. Cutting boards—people fucking love solid cutting boards. They last for ages.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Plus, a lot of them drive. They can easily take the bigger things home, or we can arrange to ship at their expense.”

  Sam didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared at me, then slowly dragged his gaze around the garage. Silence filled the air for a couple of minutes, then he turned his attention back to me. “All right,” he said. “There’s a lot of stuff just sitting in this garage that we’ve made, and that isn’t going anywhere. If you think you can shift it from a store, I think it’s worth a try. I’ve meant to do something with all this stuff, so this seems as good a thing as any.”

  “Your enthusiasm is infectious,” I said, trying to be flat and sarcastic, but it didn’t work because I knew I was damn well grinning.

  I’d had a feeling he’d agree. He was running out of space to put the things he made, and I knew he was spending more money on wood than he was making.

  Not that it bothered him. He’d made enough money when he’d earned the ice cream shop, but I knew Nora was getting fed up of not having any garage space at all.

  “When are you closing the store?” Sam asked, pushing off the wall and going back to the table.

  “Tomorrow.” I wiped my sandpaper over the rounded edge of the top of the table.

  “Tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “There’s no point keeping it open. I want people to go to Best Served Cold.”

  “Damn. Does Rae know yet?”

  “No. I wanted to speak to you first.” I looked up. “It might take a few weeks, but we can definitely get it open before the end of the summer.”

  “What about the kitchen? That’s a lot of work in a short space of time.”

  “I bought all the equipment. I’ll sell it—it shouldn’t be too hard. There are thousands of dollars of freezers and crap back there. I figure it can change into a workshop so I can work on small things during the day.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “You’ve definitely put a lot of thought into this, huh, son?”

  “You don’t need two stores next to each other. Rae already showed me the new menu. She’s still serving regular flavors and sundaes, but her focus is on the fairytale stuff she’s had me trying lately. If she gives me one more pink ice cream, I’m going to throw it at her.”

  He chuckled. “She’s been bringing damn whimsical ice cream home for more than a week now demanding we try every flavor. God knows why. The girl couldn’t mess up ice cream even if she tried.”

  “That’s what I tried telling her, but she still insists on shoving it at me. Not that I’m complaining, but pink glitter ice cream isn’t my favorite thing.”

  “Speak for yourself. She gave me what she called a mermaid banana split a few days ago. I’m seventy-years-old, and I was about ready to hand in my man card.”

  “Don’t get her started on a man card. You’ll never hear the end of it. I didn’t when I threatened that.”

  He shook his head. “She’s too much like her grandmother, that one.”

  I wasn’t going to deny that. “Well, in that case, even if her attitude sucks, at least she’ll still have her looks to bail her out in fifty years’ time.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Don’t let Nora hear you say that. Fucking hell—she’ll never shut up about that.”

  That was true.

  “Come on, then. Let’s get these finished and loaded into the back of the truck to deliver them.”

  I looked at the tables, most of them still unpainted except for one.

  Sam caught where my gaze had gone. “You gonna be caught up in painting later?”

  “Not if I can help it.” I met his eye. “I’m gonna put shelves up at a world-record slow speed tonight.”

  He laughed and tossed me more sandpaper. That was that.

  I had what I wanted. The store, something I cared about, and, more importantly—

  I had my girl.

  ***

  The tables were fucking heavy, and it took two of us to heave each one into the store and onto the dust sheets that still coated the tiled floor.

  Twenty minutes of hard labor later, the tables were lined up against the window seat, and me and Sam were downing a cold bottle of water each.

  “Where’s Rae?” I asked Nora.

  She nodded toward the kitchen and stood up her blackboard. She’d been working on it since I’d left two hours ago. “Kitchen,” she said simply, stepping back to survey her work. “She’s teaching her mom how to make unicorn ice cream.”

  I shared a look with Sam. “She’s doing what?”

  “Teaching her how to make ice cream.” She shrugged and turned around. “I don’t know either, and I was here when it happened. They talked through everything about her father cheating, and how sorry Eve was that she left and didn’t come back when she knew she needed her. Everyone apologized, there was some crying, and now they’re making ice cream.”

  Sam huffed out a breath and squeezed between two tables to sit at the window seat. “I don’t understand women.”

  “Women don’t understand women, honey,” Nora said, bending forward and coloring in a cherry on the board. “It’s all instinctive, really.”

  “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go back and see them.” I scooted out to the back and stopped in the doorway.

  Rae and her mom were standing next to each other, bent over ice cream tubs and makers. From this angle, they were identical. They had the same dark hair, even if Rae’s was lighter at the bottom, and their noses were clones.

  There was barely an inch in difference in height between them, and that was only because Rae’s dad was taller than Eve was.

  Eve noticed me first. She smiled brightly. “Hey, honey. You back already?”

  I nodded. “There wasn’t much left to do of the tables. They’re all out front—they just need painting.”

  Rae looked up with a big smudge of bright pink coloring over her cheek. “Hey.”

  I grinned and tapped my cheek.

  She wiped at hers and looked at her fingers. “Crap.”

  Eve laughed and touched her shoulder. “Are we done?”

  “I think we give it another mix and put it in the freezer.”

  They box picked up a metal skewer and ran it through the ice cream. It created a marble-like effect, and realization dawned.

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s how you do that.”

  Rae’s lips pulled to one side. “Yep. Just like magic.”

  “You don’t need me to eat more glitter, do you?”

  Grabbing the lids to the tubs, she laughed. “No. These are for the opening. I thought I’d get a head start since I have to paint the tables tonight.”

  “I’ll help.” Eve snapped the lid onto her creation. “I haven’t painted in years. Unless you count painting an escape from Michigan to the Florida Keys.” She laughed.

  Rae’s face lit up. “Really? That would be amazing.”

  “Of course.” Eve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into her with a quick squeeze. “I’ll go check out these tables.”

 
; She winked at me as she left.

  I opened the freezer for Rae to put them inside on one of the shelves. “You made up, huh?”

  Rae nodded. “What’s the point in being mad? I guess us sorting everything out taught me a lesson. I haven’t really been happy in a long time, but now I have the chance to be. Harboring anger toward my mom for a bad choice when I forgave you for yours…” She stopped and sighed, meeting my eyes. “I don’t want to feel that way anymore, and she doesn’t deserve my anger any more than you did.”

  I drew her into me, hugging her tight. My chin rested on top of her head, and she wrapped her arms around my waist, taking a deep breath.

  “I have something to tell you,” I whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m closing The Frozen Spoon.”

  She jerked back from me, eyes wide with shock. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t enjoy it. It was a mistake to ever open it, and with you reopening, I don’t want to be there to take anything away from you. I want you to have your dream, and I want you to have all of it.”

  Her lips parted. “What are you going to do instead? Do you have another job?” She paused. “Do you want to work for me?”

  Laughing, I touched my forehead to hers. “No, I don’t want to work for you, thank you. But if you wanted to give Marnie a few hours during the summer, I know she’d be happy to take them.”

  “Done. I get the feeling I’ll need help if you’re closing.”

  “That and your magic ice cream.” I kissed her nose and drew back. “No, I’m, uh. Keeping the store, actually.”

  A frown marred her usually smooth forehead. “You are? For what?”

  “Damn it, son, spit it out.” Sam came into the kitchen and chucked Rae under the chin. “We’re going into business together.”

  “You’re doing what?”

  “There’s no need to sound so shocked. We’re not a bad team, girl.” Sam’s eyes sparkled. “It’s gonna be a wood shop.”

  Rae looked up at me then back at him. “What?”

  “You know the garage full of stuff that’s sitting there doing nothing?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “We’re gonna sell it. The birdhouses, the bug hotels, the tables—even commission work. We’ll do touristy stuff too. I’m gonna sell all my equipment and turn the back into a workshop so I can work on some stuff when there are no customers.”