16. Charlotte

16

CHARLOTTE

T he next morning, Charlotte stood in the doorway of the ice cream shop just before opening time, wondering what the day would bring, and feeling like she was walking on air.

Across from the shop, the park was still covered in snow. Lots of people had turned out to compete in the snowball fight. Somewhere among them were Chance, Olivia, and Tag.

And even though it was all she could think about, she and Tag hadn’t had a chance to really talk about anything that happened last night. His brother Tripp had come into the shop before Ellis left, asking for a ride back to the farm.

As soon as they got there it was dinnertime, and when the meal was finished, Olivia was eager to chat with Charlotte. By the time the two of them were done catching up on the evening’s events, minus a big one for Charlotte, and brainstorming about possible ice cream flavor names, it was getting late. And she could hear Tag and Tripp still talking in the kitchen. Zane had joined them, and it seemed that the brothers were deep in conversation about some farm business. So she had read Miss Nelson is Missing as a bedtime story for Chance, and then headed up to her own bedroom.

Tomorrow, she’d told herself.

And there was no reason they couldn’t have all the tomorrows they wanted to talk and to spend time together. She had been so determined to avoid opening her foolish heart again, but now that it was happening, she couldn’t even bring herself to feel bad about it.

Tag was different from anyone she had known before. He was responsible, selfless, and kind on the inside, with roots deeper than the red oaks on his land.

When she’d made a promise to herself not to fall for any more silly boys, she hadn’t realized she was about to meet a man.

“Is this the grand re-opening?” a woman asked, rousing her from her thoughts.

“It sure is,” Charlotte told her. “And you’re my first customer, so you get a freebie.”

“I do?” the lady asked, looking surprised and pleased. She wore a green coat and a red scarf that set off her long, silver hair.

“You sure do,” Charlotte told her. “And we have all new flavors to choose from.”

“Goodness,” the woman said. “I’m glad I stopped by.”

“Me too,” Charlotte told her, holding the door open for her.

Tag hadn’t been sure about holding a big re-opening at eight in the morning in the middle of an unseasonably snowy December. But with the snowball fight starting at about the same time, and lots of people in town to watch and participate, Charlotte figured it might be a great time.

And it wasn’t like she had much competition at this hour, since most of the other shops didn’t open until ten.

The sandwich-board sign out front announced the re-opening as well as a two-for-one Snowball Special for the players.

“Oh, my word, that’s the Lawrence place,” the lady exclaimed, heading right up to the painting of the stone farmhouse. “This is incredible. Did you bring in an artist from the city?”

“I based it on some photos I took,” Charlotte said. “I just projected what I wanted on the wall and then traced it out and painted.”

“There’s no just about that, young lady,” the woman said, turning back to her. “This is really special.”

“We named the new flavors after some of the family’s favorite cows,” Charlotte said, flushing with pride. “Zane Lawrence developed them himself.”

“Good for him,” the lady said, moving to the framed cow photos. “He’s a very talented man. It’s a shame he’s raising those boys alone.”

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to ask the lady why he was raising them alone. But if Zane wanted her to know about the boys’ mother, then one day he would trust her enough to open up. For now, all she needed to know was that Nick and Cal were growing up healthy and happy. It wouldn’t feel right to gossip with a stranger about a friend’s situation.

“When you decide what you want, just let me know,” Charlotte told her.

“Oh, I know what I want,” the lady said, her eyes on one of the cow photos Charlotte had updated this morning with the family’s ideas. “I’ll have a Susan Butterscotch Anthony in a bowl, please.”

“Great choice,” Charlotte said with a smile. That flavor name had been one of Olivia’s ideas.

She scooped out a perfect bowl, and the lady thanked her and left, looking pretty happy. Now, Charlotte just had to hope that happiness would translate into her telling as many people as possible to come by for a scoop.

Across the street, Travis, one of the new owners of the toy store, was already separating the participants into teams. From what Charlotte understood, there would be a winning team, but once they were down to five players, it would become an every-player-for-himself situation as they all tried to win the sled.

She could just see Chance hopping up and down by his sister’s side on the rink side of the park. She smiled, glad they had been put on the same team.

She was excited to watch some of the action, but a pair of young women stopped to look at the sign out front, and then came in to check out the new flavors. And by the time they had ordered, there were two other groups behind them.

Charlotte had just enough time to glance out the windows now and then as she served customer after delighted customer. It turned out that including the cows in the decor and flavor names really seemed to make people happy and interested in the farm. And she couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t getting as many concerned flatlander questions as she had before the changes.

As the snowball fight raged on, more and more pink-cheeked participants who had been knocked out of the running wandered over, a group of them actually cheering when they heard about the two-for-one special.

By the time Tag and Olivia came in around eleven, all the tables were full, and she was almost out of ice cream.

“Where’s Chance?” she asked.

“He’s still in it,” Olivia told her excitedly. “And so am I, and so is Uncle Tripp. They just gave us a fifteen-minute break.”

“They’re not going to win,” Tag said, looking annoyed.

“You’re just annoyed because you were practically the first one to get hit,” Olivia told her dad.

“Don’t smirk at me, young lady,” Tag said. “And I’m not that bad of a loser. Let’s just be glad Uncle Cash isn’t here, or we’d all be in for it.”

Charlotte didn’t know Tag’s brother, Cash, but she was guessing he was the competitive type. Although she also thought Tag was mostly just teasing, because he was wearing a big smile, and so was Olivia. The sight of the two of them like that made Charlotte’s heart feel all warm and melty.

“Well, I want a ton of ice cream,” Olivia said.

“We’re almost out,” Charlotte told her. “I’ve only got Dairy-Free Vanilla Earhart and Joan of Peppermint Bark.”

“Joan of Peppermint Bark, please,” Olivia said.

“We need to do one for Stephanie Meyer,” Tag said thoughtfully.

“I got to name that cow,” Olivia told Charlotte. “What would that flavor be, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “New Moon Pie? Caking Dawn?”

Charlotte’s eyes flashed to Olivia, who looked as amazed as she felt.

“What?” Tag said, looking back and forth between them.

“Dad, that’s so awesome,” Olivia laughed, wrapping an arm around him and giving him a squeeze.

Tag looked so gratified that Charlotte wished she had her camera handy. But she would have to settle for recording his wondrous expression in her mind.

Another group from the snowball fight came in laughing, and she got back behind the counter just as Tag mentioned that they were heading to the country store to grab some bread.

Chance started jumping up and down with joy about it, but Charlotte was too busy to hear why he was so happy about something as simple as a loaf of bread.

By the time the snowball fight break was over, she was out of ice cream. She put a new message on the sandwich board out front, encouraging people to come back tomorrow.

She flipped the sign in the door to CLOSED, and hung around while the people sitting at tables finished up, wondering what a normal day would be like, and if there was any way to store more ice cream for busy days like today. Once the place was empty, she wiped everything down, cleaned the creemee machine, and locked up, hoping she could still catch the end of the big competition.

It was freezing cold outside, but the sunshine took the edge off as Charlotte crossed the street with a spring in her step. The park was still crowded, but it looked like most of the people there were just watching.

“Hey,” Tag said, smiling when she approached. “Tripp’s out now.”

“Don’t rub it in,” his brother said with a grin. “Hi, Charlotte. Are you actually out of ice cream?”

“Yes,” she said, still unable to believe it.

“I’d say I can help you restock, but honestly it’s probably better marketing if people see how popular it was,” Tripp said thoughtfully.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Charlotte said. “I put a message about it on the board out front. Plus, I really want to see how the snowball fight turns out.”

“The kids are still in it,” Tag said, shaking his head. “And a gang of teenagers who clearly have a pact with each other. And Dale Stravinsky, the softball coach over at the high school.”

“I feel like Stravinsky has an unfair advantage,” Tripp said.

“Seems fair to me,” Tag said. “He worked that arm for years.”

“Chance has an unfair advantage too,” Tripp said. “He’s so tiny that he’s hard to hit, and he’s better at hiding.”

“I think it was mostly that no one wanted to hit a little kid,” Tag said. “But at this point, everyone left just wants to win.”

“He won’t get hurt, will he?” Charlotte asked, watching one of the teens sneak up on the tree where the coach was hiding.

“He won’t get really hurt,” Tag said, “or I wouldn’t let him play. But the chance you might get banged up a little is just part of being in a snowball fight.”

“He lives on a farm, remember?” Tripp said. “There’s plenty of trouble to get into there too. But it’s fine. Life out here is probably just a little more rough and tumble than what you’re used to.”

The crowd yelled and she looked up in time to see the softball teacher turn and pitch a perfect bullseye to the teen’s chest.

“Oh, that means we’re down to every-man-for-himself now,” Tripp said.

Travis began to excitedly announce the same thing on the mic as the remaining players circled.

It took Charlotte a minute to spot Chance, curled up between the fountain and the benches that surrounded it, a small pile of snowballs under the bench in front of him. His expression was remarkably determined, especially for a five-year-old.

Out in the main part of the park, the last two teens had finally turned against each other. They jumped out from behind trees, pelting each other with snowballs so quickly it was impossible to know which one had been tagged out first.

While they tried to argue with each other about who was out, Dale Stravinsky got them both from his position by the wall of the skating rink.

“Oh my gosh,” Charlotte breathed, realizing it was now down to Stravinsky, Olivia, and Chance.

She glanced over to the fountain, but Chance had vanished.

When she looked back at the center of the park, she spotted him sneaking closer to the unsuspecting softball coach. He was coming from the north side of the park, the opposite direction Dale would be looking for him in.

Charlotte scanned the rest of the park, but Olivia was nowhere in sight.

Dale was scouring the south side of the park just as Chance reached the big town Christmas tree. He was still too far away to make the shot with his little arm, but he was getting closer.

Even though Charlotte had expected the whole thing to be fun and silly, she found herself breathless as she watched.

As soon as Chance broke cover, Dale caught sight of his tiny assailant. He turned and ran toward the big tree, winding up his arm to throw. Instead of throwing his own snowball, Chance just froze in place, making himself an easy target.

But just as Dale let loose a perfect shot, there was a flash of movement.

“Olivia,” Tag murmured.

Sure enough, Olivia had been hiding beneath the big tree, but now she was darting out and throwing herself right in the coach’s path. As she sailed through the air in front of her brother, Dale’s snowball smashed her in the midsection.

The whole crowd watched in amazement as she hit the ground and slid a few feet before coming to a stop.

Dale dropped the other snowball he’d been holding and moved closer to make sure she was okay.

And in that brief moment of distraction, Chance threw his own snowball with all his might.

It looked like the throw was going to come up short. But then maybe the breeze picked up slightly, or maybe Dale Stravinsky chose exactly the wrong moment to move a little closer to Olivia. Charlotte had a feeling it would be something the spectators would debate for a long time. But whatever the reason, Chance’s snowball hit the man square in the shoulder. Dale looked around for a second, and then his jaw dropped when he realized that he had been beaten.

“Did I win?” Chance asked.

But Tag, Tripp, and Charlotte were already running in to congratulate him. And his sister sat up just in time for him to fling himself to the snowy ground beside her.

“Are you okay, Olivia?” Charlotte could just hear him ask as the crowd cheered.

“I’m great,” she said, brushing snow from her coat. “My little brother just won the town snowball fight.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!” Travis announced into the mic. “Chance Lawrence, come on up here to get your prize. And please bring a parent or guardian with you.”