At this, Amelia actually smiles. “Believe me, I do. I truly do.”
But they turn from her, begin passing plates and side dishes, passing salad dressing and the pepper mill, saying nothing more. Amelia sits back, dumbfounded. Her parents have supported her through everything.
Years, months, even weeks ago, this absolutely would have stopped her. Or at least, given her pause.
But not now. She’s that sure of herself.
* * *
After dinner, Amelia goes upstairs with Grady’s textbooks. There are other ways of getting money. It doesn’t have to be through a bank. She draws her fingers down the index, stopping on the word Fund-raising.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AT THE FARMHOUSE THE NEXT day, Amelia finds the hallway lined with overstuffed trash bags.
“Grady?”
“Uh, in here.”
She follows his voice into the kitchen, where he is wrapping Molly’s dishes in newspaper.
“Hi.”
He looks nervously at her, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I’m sorry. But I’m going to have to deal with this stuff eventually.” He swallows. “If you want anything of Molly’s, let me know.”
“Actually . . . that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay.”
“I have a proposition. I want to take over Meade Creamery.”
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m already getting bids on the land.”
“Sell the farmhouse, sell the land. But I want the ice cream machinery, the rights to the recipes, the truck. I’m going to fix it up, relocate production, and relaunch Meade Creamery as a mobile business next summer.”
“Seriously?”
She’s angry. Hands on hips. “Don’t you think I can do it?”
“Of course I do. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it as an option. That you’d want to do this. You’d be giving up a lot.”
She knows. And in a way, she already has. She takes a paper out of her tote bag. “I wrote up an offer, but don’t feel like you have to accept it. I know this is really just the first step in negotiating. I want to pay you what’s fair.”
“You don’t have to pay me anything. I’ll give everything to you for free.”
“I don’t want it for free.”
He looks at the sheet. “Where are you going to get this kind of money?”
“I have a plan for that. But I wanted to talk to you first, to see if you’d even entertain it. I know how personal this is for you, with your mother and all. But my hope is that, deep down, you want this to go on.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I was putting all my hope in having you save the stand for me, but you’ve got your own stuff going on—school, your dad, your mom. If I want this place to survive, I need to step up and make it happen.”
“Wow. I knew you loved this place, but . . . wow.”
“It’s more than that—I do love it here, but I love the work too. I love the recipes, and the schedules, and the girls. I love the customers, I love—” She could go on and on, but stops when she realizes Grady is staring. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Amelia, I completely get it,” he says. “I feel like I’ve watched you fall in love this summer.” Amelia blushes, and Grady quickly clarifies, “This business, making ice cream. And now that you’ve found your passion, you’re going after it with everything you’ve got. It’s damn inspiring.”
The redness in her cheeks fires back up even hotter than before. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Not at all. I think anyone who underestimates you is crazy.” He takes a small step closer. “I know you can do this.”
“You’ll find what you love too, Grady. I know you will.” Amelia really is sure of this, as sure as she is of anything. Grady’s a hard worker, kind, generous. He will do great things.
He smiles gratefully. “I’m actually excited to go back to Truman. But . . .”
“What?”
“I’m going to miss you is all.”
Her heart speeds up. She, of course, will miss Grady, too. So much it hurts her to think about it. “Well, if things work out like I hope they will, and I’m able to buy the business, you know exactly where I’ll be next summer. You can always come back to Sand Lake for some ice cream, on the house.”
Nervously, Grady reaches out for her hand. “I hope I don’t have to wait that long to see you again. I hope . . .” He drops his head back and takes a deep breath, summoning his courage. “I mean, I hope that if you come to Truman to visit Cate, you’ll let me know.”
Of course if things were good between her and Cate, Amelia would do this, absolutely. But she can’t wrap her head around ever visiting Truman without repairing their friendship first. Running into Cate somewhere on campus, not saying hi. The whole idea of it feels unpleasantly surreal. And way more painful, to be honest, than potentially not seeing Grady again.
“Cate and I aren’t in the best place right now,” Amelia admits. “I really hope we patch things up, but . . . who knows.”
He seems to get it. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not with Cate,” Amelia says, and Grady nods soberly. Except this can’t be it, this can’t be how they leave things. “Hey, look. I know you’re over the whole business thing, but I would still love to get your opinion on some ideas I’m thinking about for next summer.”
She barely finishes her sentence before Grady’s lighting up. “Yes! A hundred percent yes. Seriously, Amelia, you can call me any time you want to talk something through. Really. Any. Time.”
“Thank you, Grady. I will.”
They embrace, clumsily, earnestly, and both Amelia and Grady melt into the hug with tangible relief. This arrangement seems, at least for now, enough of a promise to satisfy their craving for more of each other. This summer isn’t going to be the end of whatever is sparking between them, but potentially just the beginning.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
AMELIA CALLS A MEETING WITH all the stand girls the next day. Once she pitches her idea of buying Meade Creamery, they give her what her parents apparently could not—full-throttle approval. And over the next two days, each girl finds her own way to pitch in with a talent to help get Amelia’s fund-raiser page off the ground.
They take a million pictures of her, selecting one where she stands out in front of the stand, hands clasped behind her back, mimicking the power pose Grady struck for the Sand Lake Ledger that first day.
“I like it!” Amelia says.
But one of the newbies shakes her head. “Your shirt doesn’t pop. It’s too faded. Here.” And she pulls off her shirt, a newer polo, and switches with Amelia. They take the picture again, and Amelia sees she was totally right.
And best of all, they are eager to help her spread the word. They want to tell every customer about Amelia’s plans, give them the address of her donation page, but there’s one problem: the site isn’t yet live.
Amelia’s been hesitating. She keeps tweaking her essay about why she’s seeking money—not because of any lingering doubts, though her parents’ hesitation echoes in the back of her mind. Of course the girls would have her back, no question, but what about the adults in town? They all might have trusted Molly Meade. But why should they trust her? A teenage girl?
This also feels like an opportunity for Amelia to change the narrative of Molly Meade, to show that she wasn’t a sad old heartbroken woman. Though her business was small, it afforded her an amazing, adventurous life. Why should that stay a secret? She doesn’t want to spill the beans, exactly, but she does want to give Molly her due.
And then there’s Cate. There’s so much Amelia wants to say. This could be for her, too.
This feels more important to Amelia than her college essay. Way more important than writing back to Cecilia Brewster. She can feel the words begin to come together, the way she wants to speak about herself, and not just as one of the stand girls.
After many, many, many drafts, she finally writes
something that truly speaks to her feelings about Molly and Meade Creamery. And this is what she posts.
Hello. My name is Amelia Van Hagen. I started working at Meade Creamery four summers ago. Those summers were some of the most formative of my life. I could probably fill the pages of a million diaries with the fun I’ve had, the amazing girls I’ve met, and the bits and pieces of wisdom I’ve collected. I say without hesitation or reservation that being a Meade Creamery girl is an experience I’ll be forever grateful for.
This summer, after Molly Meade’s passing, I had the honor of taking over the production of ice cream according to her heirloom recipes. For me, as I am sure for many of you, her life story preceded her. Though I never had the chance to personally get to know Molly Meade, I feel now as if I understand her in a new and deeper way. Through this experience, I’ve also learned things about myself. How much I love making ice cream. How hard it is to run a business. How difficult it is to take yourself seriously. How easily and quickly everything can fall apart.
But Molly’s resilience, her unwillingness to submit to expectations placed upon her at the time, and her unwavering belief in herself and the girls who worked for her have taught me that if you find something you love, you fight for it with everything you’ve got. No regrets.
The Meade family is not interested in continuing the stand in its current form, but I have submitted a business plan that they are willing to entertain, to purchase their food truck, the equipment, and the recipes, and relaunch Meade Creamery as a mobile business next summer.
I know I am only seventeen (almost eighteen!) but Molly was the same age when she started Meade Creamery. With your support, I would like to continue her legacy while also beginning my own, and make sure that the Meade Creamery girls who come after me continue to have a place to find themselves, too.
Donations come through from people all over Sand Lake. Each one sends a ping to Amelia’s phone.
The mayor gives Amelia fifty dollars.
Teachers.
Neighbors.
Tourists.
Former stand girls donate too. There’s even a donation from Frankie Ko.
Her parents don’t give her a dime.
But the one that really floors Amelia is a hundred dollars that comes in from Cate Kopernick. Her eyes fill with tears and she immediately hops on her bike.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
AMELIA CLIMBS THE STAIRS TO Cate’s front door, trying to keep her hope in check. If she could fix this, if they could somehow come back together, it would be everything.
Cate opens the door before Amelia can knock. “Me first,” she announces.
“Okay.”
Cate draws in a breath. “I am pissed at you for keeping secrets, I’m pissed at you for hooking up with Grady, and I’m pissed that you fired me.” She shifts her weight, letting that hang in the air. Amelia looks down. “But holy shit, Amelia, you fucking fired me.”
Amelia smiles at the pride in Cate’s voice. “You weren’t that good of a boss.”
“I know,” Cate says, though not in her confident Cate way. She seems . . . stunned. “I thought I would be. I mean, I think I did some things well. But it was way harder than I thought. And I didn’t like how it made me feel, to not be good at something. I haven’t had that happen to me before. And it got me thinking about Truman, all the smart people that will be there. What if I’m not who I think I am? What if I can’t make friends? What if the classes are hard?”
It’s crazy to think Cate is struggling with the same things Amelia’s been dealing with all summer—crazy, yet also comforting.
“You know who you are, Cate.”
Cate shakes her head. “I had a terrible nightmare last night,” she says.
“What?”
“I was away at Truman. Walking around. And I saw you there with Grady. You came to see him but you hadn’t told me.” Her eyes brim with tears. “And it was because I’d pushed you to make a choice, except it wasn’t a choice at all. I didn’t support you, like I should have. I know you were only trying to save the stand. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.”
“You weren’t wrong, Cate. There were times I picked him over you, over the other girls.”
“Yeah, but how could I blame you for that?” Cate shakes her head. “I didn’t have your back. I didn’t make it easy on you. In fact, I made it almost impossible, because it was a conversation I didn’t want to have.” She looks up. “I don’t want you to leave for Gibbons and me to leave for Truman and for us to not be who we are to each other anymore.”
“Cate, that’s not going to happen! Please don’t be jealous of the stand or jealous of Grady, or any of that, because you’re the most important person to me.”
“I shouldn’t have said Grady was controlling you. That was insulting. I mean, it kills me to think that Grady was more supportive of you than I was.” Cate sniffles, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You always think you’re nothing special—but don’t you see how many people seek you out? Frankie Ko picked you to work at Meade Creamery. Molly picked you to be Head Girl. Grady picked you to fall for. And I picked you as my best friend.”
Now Amelia’s crying too. “I love you and I’m so incredibly sorry.”
“Can I please have my job back? I know I don’t deserve it and I know the stand’s only open a couple more weeks, but—”
Amelia rushes forward and hugs Cate tighter than she’s hugged anyone before.
It goes without saying that Cate’s not coming back next year to Sand Lake. And Amelia will be running the stand in a different way. This really is the end of an era. But a good end. A happy one. The kind best friends like them deserve.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
IT’S KIND OF INCREDIBLE, HOW fast change can happen when you let it.
In two weeks, Amelia has raised all the money she’s asked for. The last few hundred dollars came in slowly, and there was a moment when Cate half-jokingly suggested that Amelia hock the flower pin.
Like she would ever.
Cate’s been reading Molly’s diary—its existence is still a secret between the two of them—and has come to a new appreciation of Molly Meade. Especially when, late one night, Amelia reveals everything Tiggy told her.
“I had no idea Molly was such a badass. Then again, I had no idea you were such a badass either.”
It’s been nice, being out in the open with Grady. They’ve gone on a few dates. And he took her out to a nice dinner when she hit her fund-raising goal. But it’s also been strange, watching the farmhouse get emptied out.
Amelia has decided there are two things of Molly’s that she does want to ask Grady for: Molly’s high school portrait and the original hand-cranked ice cream maker. She plans to hang Molly’s picture up somewhere inside the truck, and take the ice cream maker with her to Gibbons. Hopefully it will help her make friends the way it did for Molly. And she might try to come up with a recipe for a new flavor of her own for next summer. But she’s keeping the name Meade Creamery for sure.
Losing the stand is still hard. Every time Amelia is inside it, like now, she tries to remember one more little thing about it. As exciting as it is to be embarking on this new adventure, the process of counting down these last days of summer still hurt—saying goodbye to the stand, knowing that no matter how good a job she does with the new incarnation, it won’t be the same. It can’t.
She heads outside, a bucket on her arm, and walks toward the truck. Grady and Cate are inside working on it. And she can hear them talking about her. Amelia pauses to listen.
“It sucks that her parents haven’t come around yet,” Cate says.
“Well, her dad did help her clear some space in their garage for the equipment. And her mom helped us transplant some of the honeysuckle bushes. So I guess in their own way, they are.”
“Ugh, this stuff is beyond gross.” Amelia peeks in and can see that Cate is on her knees in the truck, using a butter knife to scrape the grease off in waxy rolls.
“Still . . . you’ve got to admit this was one good idea I had.”
“Okay, Grady, okay.”
Amelia smiles, heartened that Cate and Grady have been getting along as well as she thought they might initially.
Amelia climbs aboard. “Leave it for me, Cate.”
“No, no,” Cate insists. “This is penance. Though I’ll have you know this is more disgusting than the worst the stand bathroom has ever been.”
Grady’s phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. His Realtor has been fielding a bunch of offers. He’ll have no problem paying his way through Truman on his own.
“So, are you coming to Truman for homecoming?” Cate asks Amelia.
“I’m not sure.”
“But you and Grady are a thing, right?”
Amelia smiles. She’s fallen in love with Grady Meade, though she hasn’t told him yet. She will. Or maybe he’ll say it first.
Cate rocks back on her knees. “So this beast runs now?”
“Yep. She’s all tuned up.” Grady insisted he would pay to get the truck running for her.
“Have you taken it for a drive yet?”
“No.”
“Well, come on! Let’s go.”
Amelia freezes. “Right now? Will you drive?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But I don’t even like driving the Cadillac. And this thing is way bigger.”
“You’ve got to get used to it eventually. There’s no time like the present! Come on. I’m riding shotgun. I’m tired of driving you around.”
Amelia slips behind the wheel, starts the engine. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“It’s stick! I’ve never driven stick before.”
“It’s not hard. Just ease into it. Find the point where the gas pedal and the clutch catch.”
The truck bucks, shakes, and stalls twice. But on her third try, Amelia manages to get it out on Route 68. And from there, it’s basically a straight shot to wherever it is she wants to go.
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