I fed the cats and gave Rocky a good nuzzle. “Sorry, I have to run.”
When I got to Udderly, a line of customers looped around the building. Good. Being insanely busy would keep me from worrying about Caroline.
In the kitchen, Brandon, his ears covered with headphones, bopped at the chiller, adding candy by the handful to a tub of ice cream colored a deep, toxic red. I pulled up short. What on earth?
I lifted one of his headphones. “What flavor is this, Brandon?”
He startled. “Penniman Penny Candy?”
I remembered the flavor as having a light pink color. Had Buzzy changed the recipe? I whipped through the pages of the Book of Spells, looking from the book to the ingredients and measuring cups he’d set out. “Brandon! You’ve added twice as much candy!” I picked up a bottle. “Strawberry syrup? That’s not in the recipe.”
Brandon blushed. “I thought it would taste good?”
I turned away and took a deep breath. Brandon was a good kid. He’d just picked a heck of a time to get creative.
I looked at the mess coming out of the chiller and put on my poker face. “Let’s try it.”
We each dipped in a tasting spoon and tried the concoction. The texture of gummy candy and crunchy whatever-it-was he’d added was deeply unsettling. I forced myself to swallow.
Brandon closed his eyes. “Oh, that’s good.”
Irrational laughter bubbled inside me.
Flo joined us and peered at the ice cream over her glasses. “What’s this?”
“Brandon has invented his own flavor,” I said.
“That’s wonderful, Brandon!” Flo smiled sincerely and Brandon grinned.
I scanned the ingredients. It probably wouldn’t kill anybody. “Let’s get it hardened, then we’ll put it in the case and see how it sells,” I said. Or, I thought, whether anyone’s crazy enough to order it.
Locals always came to see the sunflowers on Friday because they knew to avoid the crowds on the Saturday and Sunday of Sunflower Festival weekend. Customers poured into the shop and the hours flew by. I checked my phone but there was no message from Caroline.
When it had hardened to the correct consistency, I put Brandon’s creation in the case. A little boy immediately pointed to it and said, “I want the red stuff.” I served him the first scoop. As I readied a cookies-and-cream cone for his dad, the little boy took a bite. His eyes flew open and he took another. “Whoa!” He looked at the cone in wonder then held it out to his dad.
His dad took a bite and grimaced, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “What do you call that one? Makes my teeth hurt.”
“It doesn’t have a name yet,” I said. I’d forgotten to ask Brandon what he wanted to call his creation.
The little boy licked his cone, then made airplane noises and spun in circles. His dad pulled him close and said, “Call it Sugar High.” Dad sat at one of the small tables, his son bouncing at his side.
Aaron walked in, McGillicuddy at his heels, and joined the line. The Hermit of Penniman did leave his house. A few minutes later I waited on him. “What can I get you?” He peered over his glasses and pointed at Brandon’s creation. “What’s that newfangled red ice cream?”
“Candy Explosion!” shouted the little boy, the red ice cream now smeared on his cheeks and shirt.
Aaron snorted. “I’ll stick to vanilla with sprinkles.”
After Aaron left, I went into the kitchen and checked my phone again but there was still no message from Caroline. Out the window, I saw Pru talking with Dandy at the farm stand. Aaron cut through the crowd, McGillicuddy trotting at his heels. He greeted Dandy and then the two of them walked up the lane together. Pru’s smile faded as she watched them go.
At six o’clock, Caroline came into the shop’s kitchen.
I rushed over to her. “What happened?”
Caroline’s thin shoulders slumped. “They asked me so many questions, over and over. I was starting to believe I’d killed Mike.”
I wrapped her in a hug.
“I’m just drained, Riley. I’m going to make ice cream. That’s my therapy.” She washed her hands and put on an apron. “I have to thank Pru for recommending her lawyer. He’s really nice and was so helpful.”
“What happens next?” I asked, shocked at her wan expression.
“I don’t know.”
After we closed, Caroline’s lawyer came to the house and they conferred at the kitchen table. He was a young guy, with serious black-rimmed glasses and a thick old-fashioned leather briefcase.
I stepped outside, breathing in the soft night air. I thought about going for a run, but decided to save my energy. Saturday would be a long day.
Only a single light burned at the Brightwood’s farm, in Pru’s office. Was she okay? I followed the light to the farmhouse, through the basil-perfumed air of Pru’s herb garden.
I could see into Pru’s office window. Several open boxes were on the floor in front of a bookcase with empty shelves. She sat at her desk, turning the pages of a thick old book, her expression so far away I sensed a grief that didn’t welcome intrusion.
Since my mom passed when I was so young, Pru and Darwin were my model of a happy marriage, their relationship steady as the seasons following one another. Whatever they were facing, I hoped they could weather it together.
I went home and locked the door.