Stay Sweet

by Siobhan Vivian

  “It wasn’t hard,” Amelia says. “It’s actually just like a pot on the stove. Except you have more control over the temperature, and you can obviously put more in it.”

  He appears to be glancing at the album cover, but Amelia has the sense that he’s watching her. She grabs one of the cardboard ice cream drums and opens the ice cream maker’s latch to check on the consistency of the ice cream. Immediately, Grady is behind her, peering over her shoulder, wanting to see every step.

  When the consistency seems right, Amelia opens the latch full throttle and the ice cream comes pouring out of the spout. She works quickly, turning the cardboard tub every few seconds so the ice cream pours in evenly, tapping it against the table to make sure there are no air bubbles inside. Molly’s measurements are perfectly precise. There’s barely any overrun.

  Grady is grinning. “You make it look easy.”

  She’s barely listening, up on her toes, peering into the drum. Her heart is beating faster than it ever has for any boy. “The color’s good. And it has the right smell.”

  Grady rubs his hands together. “Can we try it?”

  Amelia reaches for a spoon, slides it into the drum, and hands it to Grady. “Here, I’m too nervous.”

  He takes the spoon, but immediately turns it around to feed her. “Close your eyes, Amelia. So you can concentrate.”

  She closes her eyes and thinks about that night down at the lake, when she and Cate and all the girls said goodbye to Molly Meade. She feels the spoon under her nose, smells the sweetness of the cream, feels the chill radiating off it. She opens her mouth.

  Her eyes pop open. “It’s . . . perfect!” She reaches for another spoon. “Here, you try!”

  Grady has a similar reaction, though his joy is considerably muted. Maybe he will never be able to disassociate the experience of losing his mom from the taste of Molly Meade’s ice cream. He swallows, and lifts his eyes to hers, and he is beaming. “You did it!” He wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up in the air.

  “Okay, okay!”

  Laughing, he gently lowers her. But when her feet hit the ground, Grady doesn’t let her go. Instead, he pulls her even closer to him. There is a warmth in his eyes; his chest fills with every inhale, collapses with every exhale.

  Her cheeks burn. “Grady—” she begins, but she has no idea what to say next.

  Not that it matters.

  They are kissing.

  Even though Grady is off-limits.

  And, technically, her boss.

  And she told Cate there was nothing between them.

  The idea that she is falling for a Meade is ridiculous.

  All these thoughts are in her head somewhere, but really, what she wants to concentrate on are his lips on hers, how he can’t seem to get close enough to her, how his curls feel softer than she ever imagined. Amelia and Grady are fizzing like two shook-up soda bottles, a summer’s worth of tension uncapped.

  Together they shuffle toward Molly’s couch, not allowing any space to bloom between them, and lower themselves onto it. Grady rolls so he’s on top of her, fitting between her legs. His hands rub her from ankle to knee and she prickles in goose bumps. He leans forward to her ear, nudging her head gently to the side with his nose, kissing that tiny space between her earlobe and her neck. Amelia opens her eyes . . . and sees the goldenrod yellow of the couch.

  Cate.

  What is Cate going to say?

  Amelia already knows. Cate warned them all on opening day why the girls should be careful around him, why there should be boundaries.

  But Cate hasn’t spent time with Grady the way Amelia has. She has come to know him in a way the other girls don’t.

  Does it matter?

  Or has she chosen Grady over the girls in a way that is now inexcusable?

  Amelia pulls away. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Really? Should I stop?”

  She doesn’t want him to. “I’m working. I’m officially working right now. And you’re my boss.”

  “Amelia. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to work some kind of power dynamic thing over you. Because that’s not what this is at all.” He shakes his head, resolute. “I’ve always been so intimidated by you. At first, because I thought you were pretty. But then you turned out to be smart, too.”

  “That doesn’t change how it’ll look to people.”

  “By people, you mean the girls.”

  “Yes. I do.” She sits up. “I care about what they think.”

  He takes her hand in his. “So what do you want to do?”

  She thinks. “No one can know about this. Whatever this is.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I don’t think we should kiss during work hours. At least not when I’m on the clock.” He makes a pouty face that Amelia finds unfairly cute. “I’m serious, Grady. I take my job very seriously.”

  “I know you do.”

  “And as soon as I get our stock levels back up, I’m working at the stand again with the other girls.”

  “Absolutely understood.”

  “Okay.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to take at least one fifteen-minute break per shift? That’s labor law.”

  She grins. “I can work with that.”

  He wags his eyebrows. “So . . . break time?”

  “Break’s over. I want to bring the ice cream down and let Cate taste it. And the other girls too.”

  Grady threads a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Can I come with you? I want to see them freak out when they taste how great this is.”

  They both roll off the couch, grinning and goofy and suddenly shy with each other. Amelia smooths her hair, makes sure her shirt is tucked in tight. Grady does the same, picks up her drum of ice cream, and holds her hand until they reach the front door. There’s a pause where a kiss might go, but they smile at each other instead, owning this secret.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  IT’S A QUARTER TO ELEVEN and a line is forming. Cate has not arrived yet, but the other girls who are on shift—Jen and Mansi—sit by the stand door, waiting.

  “Oh! Hi!” Amelia says. She passes the drum to Grady and takes out her key. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I can let you both in.”

  They barely manage a smile for her.

  Cate being upset with her is bad enough. But all the stand girls disappointed in her? It makes Amelia’s heart hurt.

  A voice behind her says snarkily, “Already at it, huh?” Amelia turns and sees Cate walk in and hang her purse on one of the hooks. “I’m not late,” she announces defensively. “It’s not eleven yet.”

  “No one said you were,” Amelia says.

  Grady can clearly sense the tension. After clearing his throat, he calls out, “Hey, girls! I want everyone in the office for a second. Amelia’s got some great news to share!” He nudges Amelia, as if to remind her of the happiness she felt moments ago.

  Cate and the other girls flop onto the love seat. Amelia races off to the main room of the stand and returns with plastic spoons.

  “I . . . found Molly Meade’s recipes last night. That was the reason I missed the party,” Amelia tells Mansi and Jen. “And this morning I made my very first batch of Home Sweet Home. I think it came out pretty okay.”

  “Okay?” Grady pops up. “Don’t be modest! You girls won’t be able to tell the difference.”

  “If she’s using Molly Meade’s exact recipes, why would we?” says Cate.

  “Because there are a lot of variables,” Grady says. “Making ice cream isn’t an easy thing to do. Trust me, I know.”

  Amelia makes eye contact with Cate, tries to draw Cate’s focus away from Grady. “I’m excited for you to try it.” She hands Cate a spoonful. And Jen and Mansi too. They all taste at the same time.

  Jen and Mansi don’t react. They both look at Cate. As if they need her permission.

  “Are we done here?” Cate asks.

  Amelia knows Cate’s trying to be hurtful, because Cate�
�s hurt. She tries to shake it off. “I should be able to get a couple more batches done today. And after this sits in the freezer for fifteen minutes, it’ll be ready to scoop. We can take the Sold Out sign down.”

  “So now you’ll be at the farmhouse, making ice cream for the rest of the summer,” Cate says icily.

  “For now, yes,” Grady interjects. “But once we’re caught up, Amelia will be back down here with everyone.”

  “It shouldn’t take me long,” Amelia says.

  Cate checks her phone for the time. “It’s after eleven. I need to open.”

  Amelia nods. “Right. Sorry.”

  Jen and Mansi scurry out past Grady. He closes the office door. “Hey, Cate, hang back for a minute, okay? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Cate makes a big show of sitting back down.

  Amelia tries pulling Grady aside. She doesn’t want him inserting himself into their friendship drama. She knows he’s trying to help, but it’ll only make things worse.

  He gives her a quick thumbs-up, which frankly only makes her more anxious.

  Stepping around the desk, he says, “First off, I’d like to personally apologize to you for last night.”

  Cate glances over her manicure, seeming bored. “You don’t owe me an apology, never mind a personal one.”

  “Well . . . it’s my fault that Amelia missed out on her plans with you and the other girls. She didn’t want to go with me to the beach. She wanted to be with you. The last thing Amelia would want to do is let you down.”

  “Grady, if you want to talk with me about the business, cool. Otherwise, I’m not interested in discussing my personal life, my relationships, with you.”

  Amelia feels a tightness in her chest, seeing Cate model the way Amelia could have dealt with Grady from the get-go.

  “But this has to do with business,” Grady insists. “Cate, you brought up a good point earlier. For the time being, Amelia will have to concentrate on production. I don’t want things falling through the cracks here because she’s focused on making ice cream. I said as much to her on our ride back to Sand Lake, and she suggested that I promote you to Head Girl.”

  Cate’s mouth opens, then closes. “Wait. Are you serious?” She turns toward Amelia. “Really?”

  Amelia, as surprised as Cate is, smiles back, because she’s happy to see Cate happy. Happy like someone switched a light on inside her.

  Grady goes on. “Amelia’s constantly telling me what a great job you’re doing down here, how protective you are with the younger girls, and how much you’ve been picking up the slack. I know the circumstances have been challenging, but I’m hoping we can move forward from here and have a great rest of the summer.”

  Amelia keeps a smile on her face, remembering the ways Cate cuts corners sometimes. But Grady’s probably right. It has been a challenging summer. Cate hasn’t had the incentive to step up her role. Maybe that will change now.

  “And I’ll get the Head Girl pay raise too. Right?” Cate asks.

  Grady nods. “I’m shifting all of the Head Girl responsibilities onto you. Making the schedule, supply orders, stock—”

  “I know, I know,” she says to Grady, almost like she’s annoyed, like he’s ruining this, and then she turns her attention fully to Amelia. Cate’s eyes are sparkling. She’s happier than Amelia would ever have expected her to be, because Cate always played like being Head Girl was no big deal. “Amelia, are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I always said you’d make a great Head Girl.” These words are 100 percent true, and yet it does hurt Amelia to say them. Maybe because she knows that, this time, Cate’s not going to argue with her. And she doesn’t. She wraps Amelia in a spine-cracking hug.

  “Okay, I’m going to let you girls hash this all out.” He nods. “Glad this worked out so well.”

  Cate watches him go. “Ugh, I thought he’d never leave.” Amelia laughs nervously as Cate pulls her onto the love seat. “Gah! This is so crazy!” Cate drums her feet on the floor.

  Amelia nods. “Totally crazy.” She squeezes Cate’s hands and then lets them go.

  “C’mon! Let’s do something to celebrate! At least a Starbucks run!” And then, with a laugh, “That’s an order.”

  “I should really get started on another batch.”

  “Wah. You’re no fun.”

  Amelia scoots forward, her behind perched on the edge of the couch cushion. “The thing is . . . I want to do it. I like making the ice cream. I’m good at it.” It feels freeing, to admit at least this much to Cate.

  “Well, then I’m glad you found what you were looking for.” And Cate holds out her arms for another hug.

  Though Cate is still probably a little annoyed with her, and would definitely not hug her if she knew Amelia had just kissed Grady, Amelia wraps her arms around Cate anyway and squeezes her as tightly as she can. It’s a miracle, really, that they were able to get to this place after how contentious things were between them just a few minutes ago. It is, Amelia thinks, a testament to their friendship.

  Amelia stands up. “Cate? I’m sorry again about yesterday. I really didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Don’t worry. There will be other chances. Plenty of other chances.” Amelia is halfway out the door when Cate clears her throat. “Hey, before you go . . . ,” Cate says, and Amelia turns back. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want it to be weird.”

  Amelia swallows, thinking of Grady. Could Cate sense something? “Of course.”

  “Can I have the Head Girl pin? I mean, you’re in this new position now, and it’s like, the girls are down here at the stand with me. I think it will be good for morale if they know something’s really changed.”

  Amelia feels a pang. Her ice cream victory has been all but eclipsed by Cate’s promotion. But maybe Amelia deserves that for being too much of a coward to tell Cate about kissing Grady. It’s pretty clear by the way this summer has gone that she wasn’t Head Girl material after all.

  “You don’t have to do it now,” Cate says quickly, sensing that this might be a delicate subject. But Amelia removes the pin from her collar and hands it over. Cate takes it to the mirror, puts it on, and beams, brushing her hair off her shoulder on that side, to get a better look.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  AMELIA MAKES ICE CREAM FOR the rest of the day. Mixing up new bases, pasteurizing them, letting them steep, putting them in the blast chiller, running them through the Emery Thompson. But unlike when she was blindly trying to replicate Molly’s secret recipes, she feels much more confident, much less stressed. It’s blissful.

  Grady brings her lunch—a chicken salad sandwich, a Coke, and a bag of chips from the local deli. And he apologizes to Amelia for springing that Head Girl stuff on her today. “I just knew you were upset because Cate was upset. And I wanted to help you because you’ve done so much to help me.”

  “It was a good idea,” Amelia says. “I do want to concentrate on this.”

  “Okay, good. If you want some company, I could bring my schoolwork down here.”

  “Sure. That would be nice.”

  She does enjoy Grady’s’ company, of course. Though they don’t kiss, per Amelia’s decree, they find plenty of times to touch each other, his hand on her knee, her knocking into him. Grady hooking his chin on her shoulder. Amelia likes him, more than she wants to admit to herself.

  But the work?

  She loves the work.

  When Grady heads upstairs to take an online exam, Amelia returns to Molly’s diary. She doesn’t need to find the recipes anymore. And maybe she should feel guilty for continuing to read it. But she doesn’t. She feels only kinship.

  July 15, 1945

  I sold clear out of ice cream at the Red Cross benefit. The dishes went faster than the girls and I could churn. There was always a line, people waiting for more. And once I ran out, people in town asked if I’d have more for sale at our dairy stand.

  I just about sprinted home to Daddy and found him o
n the porch with his pipe.

  He’s been so down lately. He’s struggling with all the work, and the dairy is barely breaking even. He tries to hide it from Mother, but I can see it on him. When I told him about the benefit, he was so proud of me. And he laughed harder than he has maybe all summer when I told him how I raised the prices by another fifty cents for the last ten dishes.

  He said the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  “Let me help you,” I said. And I told him my plan. That I could sell ice cream at our farm stand. I could bring in money, money we need, using the milk and cream we aren’t selling.

  “Could you really churn that much in that little bucket of yours?” he asked me.

  “No, but I can get a machine for eight hundred dollars,” I told him. “It’ll churn faster than I ever could. I could make way more, and have more control over it too.”

  I saw an ad for them in one of Daddy’s dairy catalogues, and spent more than an hour on the phone with one of the Emery Thompson salesmen, asking him all sorts of questions.

  Right away, Daddy said we don’t have that kind of money. I told him we do, because that’s the budget for my wedding. I overheard Mother say so to Mrs. Duluth two weeks ago.

  Mother must have been eavesdropping, because she pushed outside in her nightgown and said absolutely not and she forbade me to use my wedding money for anything other than marrying Wayne.

  Daddy explained that this was the first he was hearing about it and he hadn’t made a decision yet one way or the other. I let them go back and forth for a while before I finally put my foot down and said if they didn’t let me do this, I would refuse to marry Wayne, I’d become an old spinster and never give them any beautiful grandchildren ( Tiggy’s idea of a last-ditch threat)!

  And that was the end of that.

  Now I’m in bed, too excited to sleep. It seems almost sinful to be this lucky. So on Sunday, I’m going to put a little something extra in the collection plate and pray a few more rosaries than I normally do. That way, God will know how very grateful I am.