Page 117 of Revelry
“Don’t full name me,” I huffed.
“Don’t you remember all the times you used to make me ice cream when I was sad?”
I shook my head as I racked my brain but came up with nothing. Maybe I’d blocked out the memories of when she was sad. It usually meant my father had hurt us.
“You’re incredibly talented and you love it so much. You love to make people happy and ice cream makes everyone happy.”
“Except people with lactose intolerance.” Cathy ducked her head when my mom glared at her and mutterednot helpful.
Cathy shot me a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
“Sorbet is dairy-free but I can make non-dairy ice cream. I’m sure I can.” I frowned, my brain flicking through other types of milk to use. “I’d just make it with coconut milk instead. I could do a coconut and pecan flavored one, ooh with caramel sauce! I’ll make one that everyone will love.”
Mom squeezed my hands tighter. “See? Look at that! Someone put an obstacle in your way, and you immediately knocked it down. Tate is right to have so much faith in you, youcando this.”
Her praise lit me up but I still hedged. “I don’t know.”
Cathy joined us. “There will always be a thousand reasons not to do something. Ask yourself, if you looked back in thirty years, would you be happy with your decision not to follow your dream?”
There was that word again, mydream.
“I was terrified when I opened my first gallery. And granted my most recent one wasn’t a smashing success but what did we do? We pivoted and I found my right audience. San Francisco has given my creativity and career a new lease of life. Maybe the return to Reverence can do the same for you?”
I listened to her words, but my mind was busy planning new flavors and recipes using coconut milk. Coco-chocolate would be a great combination, and coconut lime. I wanted to write these all down and try them immediately.
“You’re right. I need to go shopping!” I looked around for my purse.
“I need to go to the gallery to see how much needs packing up, so I’ll come with you,” Cathy said, and I nodded, my mind whirring away with creativity.
We parked outside the grocery store. Mrs. Brown glared at me as I went in, still not over the TP incident. Like, it was twenty years ago, what gives? I ran around looking for what I needed but not finding coconut milk. I reluctantly approached my enemy.
“Hey Mrs. Brown, how are you today? Do you have any coconut milk?”
Her over-lipsticked mouth twisted in displeasure. “Does this look like a Whole Foods?”
I glared. “A simple no would have sufficed.”
She took great pleasure in repeating, “No.”
Cathy came up behind me and put a hand on my arm, pasting a sickly-sweet smile on her face.
“Patricia, so great to see you out front and serving customers for once rather than entertaining the bag boy in the stock room. It’s a shame you couldn’t find any coconut milk with the amount of time you’ve spent back there.”
Mrs. Brown turned scarlet and sputtered her denial and I turned to Cathy, giving her a sly smirk. Eventually Mrs. Brown revealed she had seen some coconut milk and grudgingly produced this a few moments later.
“Have a lovely day.” Cathy shot her a saccharine smile over her shoulder as she ushered me out of the store. “Never could stand that woman and her holier-than-thou attitude. Someone needed to bring her down a peg or two.”
I shook my head. “You really caught her with the bag boy?”
She shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I’ve had that bullet locked and loaded for years, dirty old woman.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more,” I teased. But Cathy’s eyes filled with tears at my words and she cleared her throat before tugging me across the street to the gallery.
I watched as she unlocked the door and went inside, heading to the back office. I hung back, glancing around, taking in the natural lighting from the large windows. I could picture couples having coffee, children eating sundaes and me behind a cotton candy pink counter, serving cones with colorful scoops of ice cream and sprinkles. I could also picture Tate standing there helping me out and immediately shook that image away.
I imagined the ice cream counter with the window showing all the flavors, the ice cream shaped specials board, the machines whirring away making drinks. I saw a future of ice cream-making evenings, renting the place out for birthday parties and book clubs.
My blood rushed through my veins in excitement. I pictured a career here, a life and future and I wanted itnow.Eager to live my dream.
