“You handled that like a pro,” Malcolm told me.
“Thanks. It was fun.” I spent a lot of time in front of a computer for my job at Livable Cities — looking up contracts and building plans, researching local environmental regulations, digging through title records — but I’d always enjoyed the community meetings and meet and greets best.
Working at the Golden Crumb was a kind of community building too. Most of our customers were locals, something I realized when Beck and Malcolm greeted them by name, asked about their families or jobs or medical problems.
And I already knew some of them too. Lyle had come in, Cleopatra sitting regally in her stroller, and Clara had picked up a box of cookies she’d ordered for the Blackwell Garden Club. Rosie had stopped in to place an order for the Common Ground the next morning — she apologized again for the incident with Mayor Biscuit — and Bastien had picked up a whole strawberry champagne cake for a bachelorette party that had taken up residence at the inn.
“You know what?” Beck asked. “I think we deserve ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” I was pretty sure I was going to get diabetes if I stayed in Blackwell Hollow much longer.
“It was our first time working as a team and we killed it!” Beck said. “My treat. The only thing is…” He glanced at the doors leading to the kitchen. “I have two cherry pies in the oven.”
“I need to start closing out the register,” Malcolm said.
“I guess… I can go?” I’d seen the Sugar Pine Creamery next to the bakery but hadn’t had a chance to check it out.
“Great idea.” Malcolm moved behind the register. “I’ll take a strawberry shortcake sundae.”
“I’ll do a double-fudge brownie sundae,” Beck said. “Extra sprinkles. Just tell Lena to put it on the bakery’s tab.”
“We have a tab at the ice cream store?”
Beck furrowed his brow, like a tab at the ice cream store was an obvious necessity. “Well… yeah.”
Of course we did.
“Be right back.” I was learning to accept all of Blackwell Hollow’s idiosyncrasies.
And if Beck said it was time for ice cream after dishing out a metric sugar-ton of pastries, then gosh darn it, it was time for ice cream.
27
AVERY
Main Street was castin a golden glow when I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the bakery, the town square verdant, pockets of shade providing a cool oasis for the townspeople taking an evening walk. I kept expecting something apocalyptic to happen: a hurricane or earthquake, a fire, a humanity-ending asteroid.
But nope, every time I stepped outside, Blackwell Hollow was just as quaint as the last time I’d walked its streets.
I opened the door to Sugar Pine Creamery and immediately got a familiar whiff of sweetness. But where the sweetness at the Crumb was laced with the yeasty scent of rising dough, this smell at Sugar Pine carried undertones of vanilla and… waffles?
The vibrant aqua walls cast a cheerful glow over the large room while the ceiling was painted with graphic black and white stripes that met over a fancy crystal chandelier. LED ice cream cones lit up the walls, making the whole place look like an ice cream fever dream.
I was halfway to the glass-fronted freezer case that held barrels of ice cream when I realized the smell of waffles was coming from a petite young woman about my age standing overa waffle maker, her shiny black hair pulled back into a swingy ponytail.
“Hello!” She wore an apron over a faded T-shirt and shorts, and her smile took up half her dainty face. “Welcome to Sugar Pine Creamery!”
“Thanks,” I said, approaching the freezer case.
She pulled a tiny paper cup from a silver dispenser, reached into the freezer case, and scooped a bit of orange-tinted ice cream into a cup. She stuck a small wooden paddle into the cup and passed it to me over the counter. “Try this one. It’s new.”
“Oh, wow… Thanks.” I took the cup from her hand and scooped a little bit of the ice cream into my mouth.
The flavor of sun-ripened peaches burst on my tongue, followed by something earthy and unexpected.
“Is that?— ”
“Sage!” She opened the waffle iron and peeled off a thin waffle.