Page 2 of Scoop Me Up
“Good morning, Sam,” Lance called out as we approached each other. “Congratulations, by the way.”
I frowned. What had I done? He must have heard something I hadn’t. “For what?”
“State test results came back over the weekend. Looks like your numbers were some of the highest in the school again this year.”
Forcing a smile, I nodded. It was something of a relief to know my test scores had been good—it was validating and reassuring, at least—but it wasn’t where my heart was. “Thanks, Lance.”
Lance stopped walking just before we passed each other. “How’s your summer class going?”
“It’s going great. Most of the students are really benefiting from the extra reading practice and small group time.”
“That’s awesome. Really glad to hear it. You’re one of the best we have, so it’s no surprise.”
I should’ve been flattered, but instead, my cheeks heated in embarrassment. Everyone in Maplewood knew I loved ice cream, but I hadn’t told anyone how close I was to achieving my goal.
Before I could speak, Lance continued. “Ready for Frozen Fest?”
I re-focused on the conversation. “I am. I finished making this year’s batch last night, actually.”
“Any insider knowledge about the winning flavor this year?” He winked at me.
With a chuckle, I shook my head. “You’ll have to wait until the fourth, just like everyone else. Besides, I might not win this year. You never know. Maybe some dark horse competitor will swoop in and take the prize.”
He laughed a little. “You're just being modest. You’ve won almost every year since I’ve lived here.”
“I could lose. I don’t want to count my gallons before the boil is done.” I grinned at the common idiom turned syrup related by town residents. “I’ve lost a few times since I started.”
“How long have you been entering, anyway?”
I thought for a second. “At least ten years. I started when I came back from college, the summer before I started teaching. But hey, four years ago, Beatrice and her mom won. They swooped in with a maple lavender and beat the pants off me. I really stepped it up after that. Can’t get complacent, you know?” Beatrice was a longtime resident who flew under the radar and usually avoided the festivals like the plague.
“Beatrice? Really?” When I nodded, he shrugged. “Going for a four-peat this year then?”
“I’m going to do what I can.”
The bell rang then, signaling that the summer school students would be leaving the cafeteria where they got their breakfast and heading to their classrooms. The day got underway quickly and soon, I was working with students to prepare their book talks. Each student had to present a book to the class each week—not so much a book report as a quick oral presentation about the book to get their friends excited to read it, too.
As one student read his presentation to me and the rest of the class worked on centers, I found myself staring out the window, daydreaming about rental spaces I’d been looking at online. Miles, the only Realtor in Maplewood and a good friend, had been helping me for months, years, to find a rental place. I’d looked at what felt like everything from Dairy to Maplewood and beyond, with no luck. The fact that I lacked the funds to start didn’t help.
“Mix?” The student in front of me waited for me to respond, his little eyebrows dipped in concern when I didn’t respond to the honorific right away.
I refocused my attention on him. “Sorry, Henry. Can you repeat that?”
“Did you like my book talk?”
My mind raced back to what he’d read for me. “You did a great job.” I wasn’t sure I’d heard the whole thing, but I could review it when I collected his script later.
The rest of the day went much the same. As another student, Ryan, presented his own book talk to the whole class, I daydreamed about color schemes. Would I want to go with retro colors? Bright and neon? Something softer, like pastels? Bold primary colors? There were so many options and I had samples for all of them in my notebook at home.
By the time I got home and collapsed onto the couch, I’d mentally shifted to floor plans and layouts. Would I have tons of windows in the place? Maybe I could find somewhere that had a garage-style door that could lift up and open the shop on warm days. I definitely wanted outdoor seating. A cooler so people could take out their favorite pints would be awesome, too.
That night I fell asleep peacefully, visions of ice cream dancing in my mind.
Chapter 2
Gabe
As I stepped into Nick Moran’s office at the consultancy firm, nerves fluttered through me. I offered him a firm, steady handshake, though, not letting the fact that I was nervous show. This interview was a formality, or so I’d been told, and the firm was really hoping to convince me to join their team. Me, on the other hand? I still hadn’t made up my mind.
