3. Charlotte

3

CHARLOTTE

C harlotte awoke in the tiny apartment above the ice cream shop, shivering under her blanket before the sun was up. A cold draft fluttered the curtains, and she made a mental note to visit the hardware store she’d spotted two doors down to pick up some weatherstripping.

Winters back home had been cold, and she had expected it to be even colder here in Vermont, but this felt extreme. She would get used to it though, and then she would get to enjoy more snow and fresh maple syrup.

She moved as quickly as she could from the bed and across the pine floor to the bathroom, reminding herself that the sun would be up soon, and the shop downstairs was definitely heated better than the drafty apartment.

By the time the water warmed up enough for her to shower, it felt so good that she decided to linger in the delicious heat and dream a little about what life in Sugarville Grove was going to be like.

As Allie had explained when she offered it to Charlotte, this apartment was small, and it was clear that no one had lived here in a long time. But Charlotte had never really had a space that was all her own, and she loved the old-fashioned woodwork and the view over the pretty town square across the street.

Maybe they’ll let me spruce it up a little, she thought to herself, picturing a fresh coat of paint in the little place in a soft, bright color. She could grab a few posters too, maybe, if any of the little shops in town sold them for tourists. It would be fun to have images of Vermont on the walls, or even a map she could use to mark off all the places she planned to visit.

By the time she was dressed and heading downstairs for her first day of work, the sun was coming up outside and Charlotte was feeling excited and awake. She had been a little embarrassed when Allie called last night and she’d already been half asleep. The long drive had taken a lot out of her.

Allie had stopped by just long enough to show her how everything worked down in the shop, insisting that Charlotte stay in her pajamas. There hadn’t been much to it, and they had laughed through the whole thing as they caught up a little.

Since Allie was working close by, Charlotte hoped she would see her at the ice cream shop. And of course they planned to get together for real over the weekend.

Opening the door from the staircase to the shop, Charlotte could already see the square across the street coming to life outside the wide front windows. Children walked in groups, wearing backpacks so big they looked like they might tip over, all laughing and chatting to each other. There was still enough snow on the ground that most of them wore boots.

Patting her pocket for the keys and hearing the reassuring clink, Charlotte grabbed her coat off the hook and headed for the front door.

She wouldn’t always spring for breakfast from the café on the corner, but she hadn’t been to the grocery store yet, so today she would have to treat herself.

Luckily, the sidewalks were all well shoveled, so it was easy enough to make her way past the other shops to the café. The holiday decorations along the way were adorable, and several shops displayed posters announcing the Sugar Snow Carnival.

Charlotte smiled to herself, feeling like she had just landed in a snow globe.

When she was a kid back in Trinity Falls, the holidays had felt like this too—a time of year that was treasured and celebrated wholeheartedly. She had missed that since her family left for the city, where most of the Christmas displays seemed to be blatantly advertising something.

She reached the corner and was glad to find that there were lights on at the coffee shop. A wooden sign that said Bean Counters hung from the brick storefront. Charlotte stepped inside and was rewarded with the delicious scent of coffee and something sweet, along with the unmistakably savory scent of bacon.

A pretty lady sporting dark hair in a ponytail and wearing a name tag that said Tara stood behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the woman said with a smile. “You’re an early bird. What can I get you?”

“I was just going to ask for coffee and a bagel,” Charlotte said. “But it smells so good in here. What do you recommend?”

“Hm,” Tara said, looking Charlotte up and down as if she was really trying to guess the right meal for her. “You’re a new face, so I’ll bet you want the Vermont Special.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, nodding.

“Okay?” Tara asked. “You don’t want to know what it is?”

“I trust you,” Charlotte said.

“My kind of gal,” Tara said, laughing. “Pick a seat and I’ll have it up for you in a second.”

Charlotte chose a seat by the front window, overlooking the square. From here, she could see a few moms with coffee cups, watching their little ones on the playground equipment. Just beyond the little playground was a large pavilion, hung with evergreen and holly, like something out of a Christmas movie.

“Nice view, right?” Tara asked, approaching with a coffee mug and a little pitcher of cream. “Sugar’s on the table.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said.

She put a little cream in her coffee, and then gazed out the window while she sipped it. It was hard not to imagine herself falling in love on that pavilion with snow falling all around, and then finding herself on one of the benches surrounding the park, sipping her coffee from a reusable mug with the other mamas, watching her own kids at play.

Her mind unexpectedly filled in the face of the man from the gas station when she pictured her Prince Charming, and she had to smile at her own silliness.

No falling in love , she reminded herself, glad that man probably lived in some other little Vermont town and she would likely never see him again.

Charlotte had been burned so badly the last time she let herself fall for someone, that she figured it couldn’t hurt to take a year or two or ten off from dating. So she had made a rule for herself: No falling in love this year.

Honestly, I don’t ever need to fall in love, she reminded herself. There’s nothing wrong with adopting a dog and living a nice simple life . Not everyone is equipped to find a decent guy to settle down with.

Her own guy-finding ability seemed to be broken or something. Before Bryce, she had dated a jerk who cheated on her. And her high school boyfriend had somehow hidden a hot temper that he chose to fully reveal by making a super embarrassing scene and yelling at her on prom night, in front of everyone.

That was the trouble with being an optimist. Sure, she went through life feeling like her glass was half full. But assuming the best in others sometimes ended up with her being surprised and disappointed.

No more bad surprises, she promised herself. I’m going to be more careful from now on, and everything’s going to be great.

“One Vermont Special,” Tara said, rousing Charlotte from her thoughts.

Tara set down a plate that was absolutely covered with pancakes, bacon, and toast, along with a wedge of what looked like cheddar cheese.

“Now this isn’t the Vermont Special unless you drown it in maple syrup,” Tara warned her, placing down a little jug beside the plate. “That’s from Hayes Maple Sugar Farm, right here in Sugarville Grove.”

“Oh, wow,” Charlotte said, lifting the little jug, surprised to find it was warm.

“Enjoy,” Tara said, winking as she headed to the counter where another customer was waiting.

Charlotte drenched her pancakes in maple syrup as she was told, figuring that if her day was starting like this, it was a pretty good sign.

One good surprise already.

Two hours later, she wasn’t so sure.

Back at the ice cream shop, she had done the morning sweep-up and wipe-down, put all her change in the register, turned on the lights, and flipped the sign on the front door.

But not a single customer had walked through the door since then.

In fairness, there was literally snow on the ground and it was barely eleven in the morning, but still, it was no wonder Allie said they could hardly afford to keep the doors open.

“Maybe there will be a lunch rush,” she murmured to the tiny, framed photo that she had placed behind the counter.

In the picture, her dad was beaming, his arms wrapped around a much younger version of Charlotte. Her mother’s thumb, which featured prominently in the lower left corner, officially made it a family photo. Her dad had always kept it on his desk at work. When he passed, Charlotte’s mom had given it to her, and she liked to keep it close.

She decided to sweep up again, even though she had already swept this morning. Afterward, she was at a bit of a loss.

Lois, the elderly lady who used to work the register, had left some magazines under the counter. In desperation, Charlotte grabbed one and had just begun to scan the tattered pages of a housekeeping journal when the bells over the door jingled at last.

“Welcome,” Charlotte said, whisking the magazine back under the counter and offering her guests a smile.

Instead of smiling back, the two women were frowning at the glass display. They seemed about the age of Charlotte’s mom, but she could tell by their fancy coats that age was where the comparison ended.

“Do you have any lactose-free options?” the taller blonde asked.

“We do,” Charlotte told her proudly. “We have chocolate and maple flavors available lactose-free.”

Maple flavored ice cream had sounded strange to Charlotte, but she was looking forward to trying it. Allie had said maple everything was popular in Sugarville Grove. And the syrup for it was sourced at the same local farm that made the syrup she’d had at breakfast, which had been amazing.

“This is from a local dairy, right?” the short brunette popped up to ask.

“Of course,” Charlotte told her. “The Lawrence family have been dairy farming for generations.”

“Do they use antibiotics?” the blonde asked.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Charlotte admitted. “But if you’ll give me a moment, I can find out for you.”

She grabbed her phone and tapped the contact Allie had put in for her that said Big Brother Tag . The phone rang just enough times for her to start to panic before she heard him pick up.

“Hello?” a deep voice said.

“Hi, um, Tag?” she said.

“Speaking,” he replied.

There was something weirdly familiar about his voice and his curt way of barking out words.

“This is Charlotte,” she said. “Allie’s friend. I’m here at the ice cream shop and a customer has a question.”

“Go ahead,” Tag said.

“Do you use antibiotics?” she asked.

“Not usually,” he said. “We use them only if an animal is sick or hurt and it’s serious. And we discard the milk for a period of time if a cow has had antibiotics.”

“Oh,” she said. “Do you want to talk to them?”

“No,” he said, sounding horrified.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Thanks, Tag.”

He didn’t even say goodbye before hanging up, and she wondered what she had done wrong.

“He said they only use them if an animal is seriously hurt or sick,” she relayed to the two women. “And after that, they discard the milk for a period of time.”

“Okay,” the taller one said, nodding.

“And they’re pasture-based?” the brunette asked, still looking a little worried.

“Oh, um, let me just call him back,” Charlotte said quickly.

She wasn’t sure where else a cow could be based. But maybe there was something about the question that she didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” Tag sounded annoyed when he picked up this time.

“Sorry,” she said. “But are the cows pasture-based?”

He muttered something in a disparaging tone that sounded like flatlanders.

“What?” she asked.

“Of course they’re pasture-based,” he told her, hanging up again before she could make sure there wasn’t a follow-up question.

“Yes, they’re pasture-based cows,” she told the lady, trying to keep her own face calm and friendly, even though she was starting to get a little annoyed herself with Allie’s big brother for being such a grouch.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” the lady said, smiling.

The two women put in their orders and Charlotte got right to work. A few minutes later, they were heading out with their treats and she was feeling a bit more at home behind the counter.

After that, a man came in with his little son and they both got sundaes. They chose two different kinds, and her hands shook as she tried to make the second one before the first one melted. But they sat at one of the little tables to eat them, and the only thing that melted was her heart at the sight of the two of them trading bites.

One or two more people filtered through as the day passed. At lunchtime, four teenagers came in, jostling each other and sending the bells over the door jangling.

“Hey, can I get a maple creamy?” the first boy asked.

It was an odd turn of phrase, but he didn’t add anything to it. Charlotte stared at him for a second.

“A creamy maple what?” she finally asked.

The teens stopped chatting instantly, all of them blinking at her in a sort of stunned silence.

“ Flatlanders ,” the girl in the back muttered and the others started giggling.

“You get it out of the machine,” the boy told her patiently.

“Oh, a soft serve,” she laughed. “Got it. Maple, right?”

“It’s actually a creamy,” he said, pointing at the board over the machine.

She looked up and sure enough there it was:

Creemee Flavors:

Maple - Vanilla - Chocolate

He wasn’t saying creamy , he was saying, creemee. Though she was still no closer to understanding why. She and Allie had been catching up last night while Allie demonstrated how to use the machine, and she must have missed that part.

“It’s thicker than soft serve,” he told her quietly, looking like he felt sorry for her. “They’re really popular here. You should probably know about it if you want to be an ice cream lady.”

“One maple creemee, coming right up,” she told him brightly, trying not to think about the fact that her current aspiration was to be an ice cream lady , and she wasn’t exactly nailing it.

But on the other hand, she might just decide to eat a maple creemee for lunch, which was exciting.

She got through the teens, and figured what passed for a lunch rush might just be over when another lady in a fancy coat over what looked like a very expensive yoga outfit popped in.

“Hello,” the lady said.

“How can I help you?” Charlotte asked.

“Is this ice cream local?” the lady asked her.

“It’s made by Lawrence Dairy Farm,” Charlotte replied. “The family has been in the dairy business for generations, and the cows are pasture-based.”

She threw that last one in, hoping it would mean something to the lady.

“That’s great,” the lady said, smiling. “And what breeds do they have?”

“What breed… of cow?” Charlotte asked, feeling completely over her head.

“Yes,” the lady said, looking a little concerned.

“I’m new here,” Charlotte explained. “But let me just call one of the Lawrences.”

She tapped Big Brother Tag on her phone once again.

“Now what?” he growled.

“Um, what breed of cows do you have?” she asked him.

“How many times are you going to call me?” he demanded suddenly.

Suddenly, yesterday’s long drive and all the things that had propelled it landed heavily on Charlotte’s chest, and she felt tears begin to prickle her eyes. But she was not about to let a bully push her around.

“As many times as I have to, when your customers have questions,” she lobbed back angrily.

“And I suppose next you’ll want to know if we celebrate the cows’ birthdays?” he asked sarcastically. “And whether we make them little hats and blow out their birthday candles for them?”

“Sure,” she said. “I think they might like to hear that you’re capable of being nice to the cows.”

Even if you can’t be nice to me, she didn’t add.

There was a terrible pause, and she wondered if she was about to be fired. It would be kind of a shame. In spite of everything, she was already sort of falling in love with the town.

Then came the unexpected sound of Tag Lawrence chuckling.

“We have black and white Holsteins and brown Jerseys,” he said after a moment.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“I have to come into town to get something from the hardware store,” he said gruffly. “I’ll swing by while I’m there and tell you a little more about the farm.”

“Oh good,” she told him. “Maybe you can explain what a creemee is.”

“It’s the giant machine behind you,” he said, sounding a little stricken. “I sincerely hope my little sister showed you how to clean and prep it before she put you to work.”

“Oh, she did,” Charlotte told him quickly. “I guess I’m looking for the why, not the how.”

He didn’t say anything else, and when she pulled the phone from her ear, she saw he had hung up. She had practically forgotten the lady at the counter, who looked a little horrified.

“It’s my first day,” Charlotte explained. “He said the cows are black and white Holsteins and brown Jerseys.”

“How about just a bottle of water?” the lady asked.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, feeling terrible that she’d said what she had to Tag in front of a customer as she grabbed the water out of the refrigerator and rang the lady up.

“If you come back tomorrow I promise I’ll know more,” Charlotte told her as she handed off the change. “I would love to be able to answer all your questions and make you a happy customer.”

“You just did,” the lady said, winking and dropping her change in the little tip jar on the counter. “See you tomorrow.”

Charlotte sighed in relief that at least she hadn’t burned any bridges with a potential ice cream eater.

She decided to sweep up the clean floor one more time, feeling oddly nervous for Allie’s brother to stop by, although she had no idea why.