“Yeah. It’s good. You pick out the big pieces, pu
t ’em in a napkin, then chew them after you finish the ice cream.” He clapped his hands. “Two treats in one.”
Mitch laughed, meeting her eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “It’s an acquired taste. I used to love it as a kid.”
“I might give it a whirl.” Kristen leaned forward and glanced at Emmy, who sat in the front seat. “What kind will you get, Emmy?”
“Hmm?” Emmy raised her chin as they reached Peach Grove’s city limits, straining for a better view. “It’s up on the right. There’s a big dip in the driveway, so go slow.”
Mitch nodded. “I will, Emmy.”
She tapped a finger in the air. “Take this next turn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, returning Kristen’s smile in the rearview mirror.
Mitch took the turn, eased the big truck over the rut in the driveway, then parked on the side of a small white building with THE SCOOP displayed in a playful pink font across the front veneer.
“All right,” Mitch said, cutting the engine. “Let’s get some ice cream.”
They got out, and Sadie and Dylan led the way with excited skips to the front entrance. Kristen followed, surprised at how packed it was both inside and outside the small business. Several people sitting at booths could be seen through the windows, and more were seated outside, at high tables lining the front and sides of the shop, licking ice cream off cones, spooning sundaes, and chatting in small groups. The parking lot was full of cars and trucks, and a cheery tune trickled out of speakers attached to the building, putting a light spring in her step.
Mitch walked beside her. “What do you think? Place worth the trip?”
“For ice cream?” She laughed. “Always. Don’t you think so, Emmy?”
Kristen’s steps slowed at the lack of a response from Emmy, and Mitch stopped, then glanced behind them.
“Emmy?” he called. “What are you doing?”
She stood several feet behind, still by the truck, her back to them. Her posture was different. There was a rigid tilt to her sloping shoulders, and she had assumed a readied stance, with one foot forward and the other back.
Kristen stilled, her skin prickling. “Emmy?”
Mitch walked toward her, saying over his shoulder, “Hold up, kids.”
A rhythmic pound and whoosh echoed across the parking lot. Two boys on skateboards sped out from behind the ice cream parlor, then circled back to the familiar ruins of a building. One jumped off his skateboard, grabbed a brick from a nearby pile, and threw it at the jagged remains of a window in the one wall still standing. The glass shattered, and broken shards crashed to the pavement.
Emmy raised her fists, her shouts echoing off the ice cream parlor.
“Oh, no,” Kristen whispered.
By the time she reached the truck, Emmy was doing her best to edge around Mitch, who spoke to her in low, placating tones.
“Emmy, please—”
“They shouldn’t be here,” Emmy yelled, pacing and waving a fist at the boys. “You shouldn’t be here!” She spun around, and her eyes widened at Kristen. “Look what they’re doing to Cindy Sue’s shop. Look!”
Stomach churning, Kristen glanced at the two kids. Oblivious to Emmy’s shouts, one boy circled back on his skateboard, focused on the pavement in front of him. Emmy shoved past Mitch and limped toward him, then snagged the boy’s elbow as he passed. The skateboard jerked to a halt, and the boy stumbled in her grip.
“You get out of here and don’t come back,” Emmy yelled, shaking him. “You hear me?”
“Ow! Let go.”
Mitch jogged over and struggled to pry the boy out of her grip. “Emmy, let him go.”
Kristen joined him and pulled at the gnarled fingers of Emmy’s other hand, but the feel of thin skin and fragile bone made her stop and gentle her touch.
Emmy yelled louder as she strained against them. “Cindy Sue? Come out here.”