Lemon's Sorbet Disaster: An Ice Cream Shop Series Novella

by E. H. Demeter

  MOM: That’s GREAT, Sweetie! Have a wonderful time, and send lots of pictures! Xoxo

  I smiled as I dropped the phone on the bed beside me, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. For today, I would just rest and recover from travel. Tomorrow, I would venture into town and discover what ol’ Beauregard had left me.

  Chapter Two

  Sunlight streaming through the windows woke me. I rolled to my side, groaning as I tilted my head left and right. I must have been more tired than I’d anticipated, because I’d fallen asleep in my towels, my glasses still atop my nose. My neck ached from the lack of pillows, but it was nothing a few good stretches couldn’t cure.

  Once I was up and dressed, I triple checked that I had everything in my purse before heading downstairs. I was almost certain I had missed breakfast, given it was close to ten o’clock, but as soon as I’d descended the stairs, the smell of toasting bread and bacon hit me, making my mouth water.

  “Lemon, that you, dear?” Mrs. Fitzgerald’s voice called out seconds before she appeared in the hallway. “Good morning. You hungry?”

  “I, uhh, actually, I am. Is that bacon?”

  Carol laughed, waving her hand in invitation. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

  I followed her down the hallway and into a rather large country kitchen. It was what I had always imagined a dream kitchen would be like. Warm, cherry wood cabinets with gleaming white fixtures wrapped around the ceiling. Butcher block counters surrounded a state-of-the-art range and offered plenty of work space. A long, wooden table sat off to the right, an upholstered dining booth offering seating. I could tell a lot of thought and care had been put into the design of this place.

  “Have a seat at the table. We’ve got bacon and biscuits. I can fix you up a couple’a eggs. Do you like grits?” Carol turned toward me, her dark brows lifted in question.

  “Oh, umm. Eggs, scrambled, please. And, I’ve never actually had grits before.”

  “Oh, well, how about you give them a try? If you don’t like them, it won’t hurt my feelings none. Coffee?”

  I very nearly groaned. “Yes, please.”

  Carol chuckled as she came toward me with a steaming mug of coffee. “Cream and sugar’s on the table.”

  I watched her as she went back to her cooking, then filled my mug with an ungodly amount of sugar and cream. Closing my eyes, I sipped from the sweet brew. And this time I did sigh. Audibly.

  It was comforting, somehow, to simply sit back and watch as someone prepared breakfast for me. It should have been awkward, being waited on like this, yet Carol made it seem almost normal.

  “Do you have children?” I asked, setting down my mug.

  “I do. I have a daughter and a son. How about you?”

  “Oh, no. No children here.” I looked down at the coffee in my hands. Much to my mother's disappointment, I was unwed and not yet a mother. If she had her way, I would have been married straight out of college and already be giving her grandbabies. As it was, I had graduated college all but still living with my parents. And finding my dream job seemed to be eluding me.

  “Oh, well, you’re young yet,” Carol said, turning and setting a plate before me. “If that’s even something you want. I know some young women nowadays aren’t wanting the old-fashioned traditional family anymore.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want kids. I mean, I think I do. I just... Haven’t met the right man, I guess.” I shrugged, twisting my lips to the side and setting my coffee down. “Thank you, Carol, this looks delicious.”

  “Oh, no need to thank me. I enjoy cooking for people. And currently, you’re our only guest. So, you’ll get extra pampering.”

  We shared a laugh as I dug into my breakfast. It was delicious, and I was certain I would gain ten pounds off her cooking if it was all like this. Carol poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from me, a single biscuit on a plate in front of her. I felt her eyes on me, and set my fork down, lifting my napkin before meeting her gaze with my own.

  “What brings you to Haven? You didn’t exactly say when you called...”

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat, reaching for my coffee and taking a long sip. What could it hurt to tell her the reason for my visit? There was nothing in Uncle Beauregard’s will that said I couldn’t say anything. “I'm here because of my great uncle. He passed away and left me some property. So, I’m here… To check it all out, I suppose.”

  Carol nodded, sipping her coffee. “I’m sorry for your loss. Who was your uncle?”

  “Beauregard Reginald. Did you know him?” I winced as I asked the question, but it was a small town. Everyone knew everyone, right?

  Carol inhaled deeply, nodding once more. “I did know him. A good man. He cared a great deal for our little town. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.” Repeating the sentiment, she reached across the table and rested her hand atop mine, squeezing slightly.

  It took everything within me not to squirm. Smiling softly, I pulled my hand out from beneath hers. “Thank you. I didn’t know him that well. I met him once or twice when I was a girl, and we kept in touch through letters over the years. But…” I shrugged. It felt weird to talk about him with someone who knew him. While I had loved and appreciated every letter from him, I didn’t feel like I knew him in the same way as people here would know him.

  “Well, like I said, he was a good man. If you need any help getting anywhere, just let Thomas know. He’ll give you a ride.”

  “Oh, I was actually going to rent a car...”

  Carol waved her hand, shaking her head as she rose. “No, there’s no need to spend your money. Thomas or I can take you wherever you need to go. And if you really need a car of your own, you can just borrow one of ours.”

  I blinked at her. “Are you serious?”

  Carol laughed, washing out her coffee mug and setting it in the drying rack. “Of course I’m serious. Is it such a strange offer?”

  I nodded, finishing up my last bite and rising with the plate in hand. “It is to me. I have friends who won’t even let me borrow their car for a few minutes.”

  “Well, I won’t say nothing on them. But, to me it’s just hospitable.” She smiled warmly at me, her dark brown eyes lighting with mirth as she took my plate. “Now, you run along and get ready for the day. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

  I knew when I was dismissed. Chuckling to myself, I left the kitchen, taking my time as I wandered the hallway and discovered the other rooms. The Red Bird Inn was truly beautiful. They had done an amazing job restoring it. Running my fingers along the wall, I stepped into a lovely little room that I could only describe as a library. Floor to ceiling shelves lined the side walls, while the wall ahead was taken over by a large, picturesque window, complete with window seat. Two burgundy wingback chairs sat on either side of a cherry wood coffee table, crocheted blankets thrown casually over the arms. I felt my lips curving upward as I explored the room, unable to help the smile. The room just evoked peace and joy.

  Looking over the books, I was thrilled to see many titles I recognized. There were the almost requisite classics: Moby Dick, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Anne of Green Gables... But there were newer titles as well: Harry Potter, Dr. Seuss, The Maze Runner...

  Plucking a book off the shelf at random, I grabbed a blanket off one of the chairs and snuggled into the window seat, curling my legs beneath me.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, pulled into the book, but the rays of the sun had lowered, warming me. I sighed happily, turning the page. It had been too long since I’d simply sat and read a book. Most of the time I was so busy editing that I didn’t have time to sit and read for fun.

  I was close to halfway done with the book when I could no longer ignore the growling of my stomach. My face twisted in annoyance as another rumble pulled me from the pages of the book.

  “Fine. Fine, I’ll feed you.” With a sigh, I rose from the window seat, groaning as I stretched out my stiff muscles. Folding the blanket haphazardly, I lef
t it on the seat and made my way toward the kitchen, carrying the book with me.

  I hadn’t heard anyone else in a while, though I wasn’t complaining about the lack of hovering. I got enough of that from my mother. I didn’t need strangers waiting in the shadows, jumping to my every whim. Peeking into the kitchen, I let out a small sigh of relief in finding it empty. To the fridge!

  Pulling open the stainless steel door, I perused my options before finally settling on a sandwich. Arms full of fixings, I bumped the door closed with my hip and almost screamed when I found Mr. Fitzgerald standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, do forgive me! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He rushed forward, helping me unload the items onto the island. “My office is just through there, and I heard someone in the kitchen, so I came to see if any help was needed.”

  Swallowing down my panic, I shook my head. “No. I mean, it’s okay. I mean…” I stopped, closing my eyes and blowing out a breath. “I mean, thank you. I could use some help finding the bread.”

  Mr. Fitzgerald smiled at me, moving across the kitchen and opening a wooden breadbox. Because of course it was in a breadbox. I shook my head, accepting the loaf he offered.

  “A sandwich sounds pretty good. You don’t mind if I make one too, do you?”

  “Oh, of course not.” I gestured to the sandwich fixings before me. It’s your kitchen.

  “We don’t usually offer lunch. Most people leave for the afternoon, so we just decided to stick to breakfast and dinner.”

  I dropped the knife I was using, looking up at him. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald! I didn’t think--”

  He held up a hand, shaking his head with a warm smile. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. I was just saying. And please, call me Thomas. I haven’t been called Mr. Fitzgerald since I was teaching high school.”

  I licked my lips, swallowing and smiling. “Thomas. So, uhh, you were a teacher?”

  “For a while. I taught history in the local high school for a number of years. Then I went onto be a professor at the community college. But, yes, long story short, I was a teacher.” He smiled and winked at me with a soft chuckle.

  I nodded, smiling at him as we fell into an easy conversation. He told me more about his life and gave me a rundown on everything I needed to know about the town.

  “Thank you, for having lunch with an old man. It was nice to have someone to talk to.” Thomas smiled, rinsing off our plates.

  “Oh, no, thank you, for everything. I really enjoyed it.” I glanced at my watch, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Do you know of a cab company I could call? I’ve been a bit spoiled by the city and wasn’t expecting to need a car.”

  Thomas shook his head, grabbing a towel and drying his hands. “No need for a cab. You can borrow Mrs. Fitzgerald’s car. Unless you’d be more comfortable in my truck?”

  I stared at him. They couldn’t be serious. Yet they had both made the same offer...

  “Mrs. Fitzgerald said I could use her car, but I didn’t think she meant it.”

  He chuckled, folding the towel and setting it on the counter. “Of course we mean it. No need to spend your money when we have a perfectly good vehicle you can use. Just let me know your preference.”

  “Umm, the car?” I stared after him as he bobbed his head, disappearing from the kitchen, only to return a moment later with a set of keys.

  “Little maroon car in the back. Let me know if you have any issues.” Thomas smiled.

  “Thank you. That’s really kind of you.” I took the keys and, after grabbing my purse, I followed his directions to the car. A powder blue Chevy Impala sat in the side yard, looking pristine. Blowing out a breath of relief, I glanced over to the large Ford truck sitting beside it and knew I would have never gotten out of the driveway with it.

  I was lucky I had GPS on my phone, or else I might never have found the building. The plot of land that Beauregard had left to me was little more than a roadside shack, though I could tell it had once been a thing of pride. The building might have been white once, though it was in desperate need of a good power washing.

  Frowning, I pulled into the postage stamp sized parking lot and shut off the car. I stared at the building, my brows creeping higher as I took in the dilapidated building. Faded awnings had probably been red and white in their prime, but were now dull, dingy, and shades of brown. Everything about the place was just… Sad. Though I could see the potential. If I squinted and tilted my head.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Pulling the keys from the ignition, I climbed out of the car, shading my eyes with my hand as I looked around. Surely, this had to be a joke. I couldn’t imagine anyone running a business out of a place like this. My surprise only increased when I saw the faded open sign in the window.

  Walking up to the door, I pushed it open and slipped inside. The hum of an air conditioner filled the room, the cool air more than welcome after the heat of the day. I looked around, taking in the worn booths that lined one wall, the few scattered tables with mismatched chairs. Everything seemed to be coated in a thin layer of dust, and the whole place needed a good cleaning.

  “Hello?” I called out, striding across the room toward the counter. I paused, looking through the musty glass, gasping as I saw familiar tubs tucked into the cooler. Ice cream?

  A soft shuffling sounded from the back, and I straightened. There was someone here.

  “Hello?” I called again, stepping around the counter and making my way toward the back. I had just reached out to pull the black curtain aside when it was yanked away from my hand. I screamed and jumped back as a man filled my vision.

  “Jesus! You scared the life out of me!” I placed a hand to my chest, forcing a laugh as I tried to meet his shadowed gaze.

  He didn’t crack a smile. Simply grunted and moved past me, carrying what appeared to be a large drum. “We’re not open.”

  I felt my eyebrows lift at the terse response, and instinctively crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, the sign in the front says different. And the door was unlocked.”

  He paused, looking at the door before glancing back at me. “Must have forgotten to lock it back up.” With another grunt, he hefted the drum and moved toward the cooler, using his elbow to slide the door open before hefting the drum and angling it to slide inside. I felt my eyes widen as I watched his muscles bunch and cord with the effort, my mouth going dry and sticking to the roof of my mouth.

  He turned toward me, his brows lifting. “You still here?”

  It was everything I could do not to grit my teeth. Running my tongue over my teeth, I squinted my eyes in the dim lighting and peered over his shoulder at a Manager on Duty sign hanging on the wall behind him. “Well, actually, Mr… Fuc-”

  “It’s Tucker. Signs dirty.” He grumbled, turning and hastily wiping at the sign.

  “Oh. I-I’m so sorry.” I felt heat burning my cheeks and ducked my head, pushing my hair out of my face.

  He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. The act alone had my throat tightening, just as his shirt tightened over his shoulders. Was he intentionally wearing a shirt that was too small for him? Or was he just that massive?

  Thick fingers snapping in my face had me jerking my head back and my nose wrinkling. “Excuse me!”

  “Yeah, excuse you. This is private property, and I’ve told you we’re not open. So, state your business or I’m calling the sheriff.”

  Blowing out a breath, I held up my hands. “Listen, my name is Lemon Wilder and--”

  “Lemon?” He cut me off, not bothering to hide his chuckle.

  Narrowing my eyes, I set my jaw. “Do you have a problem with my name, Mr. Tucker?” I didn’t bother to warm my tone. If the man wanted to be a jerk, well, two could play at that game.

  He sobered, shaking his head and shooting me a glare before brushing past me, his shoulder bouncing off mine. “Not at all, Mrs. Wilder. And the name is Wade. Mr. Tucker was my father.”

  The way he spat the explanation had my hackles l
owering, my heart aching for the pain and anger in his words. There was some bad blood there. Clearing my throat, I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried again. “It’s Miss Wilder, for the record. And I’m here because this property belonged to my great uncle, and, for some reason, he left it to me.”

  He spun around at my words, his brows shooting upward into his blond hair. “You’re that Lemon Wilder?”

  I shook my head at his shocked tone, lifting a hand to rub at the back of my neck. “Do you know that many women named Lemon?”

  “No.” The word was short and curt. “I just never expected you to actually show up.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared behind the curtain again. I stared after him, bewilderment running through me. What in the heck had I done to afford such rudeness? Scoffing, I shook my head, planting a hand on my hip as I looked around the dingy space.

  This was going to take a lot of fixing up. And so far, my welcome to Haven had mixed reviews.

  Chapter Three

  After seeking out the lawyer to let him know I was in town and prepared to fulfill the requirements of the will, I headed back to the Inn. I hadn’t even done that much in the day, but I was exhausted. I was thankful that the Fitzgeralds were otherwise occupied when I arrived, though it did feel a little like I was sneaking up to my room.

  Flopping down onto the bed, I removed my glasses, covered my face with my hands, and blew out a breath. It was only my first day here, and already this was turning into so much more than I had expected.

  The meeting with the lawyer had been shocking. Not only had Beauregard left me the ice cream shop, but he’d also left me his house and ‘all surrounding properties,’ which the lawyer made sound substantive. I had once again thanked my lucky stars for GPS and being a careful driver, because I was certain I had returned to my temporary home in a daze.

  The thought that someone could love and care so much about someone they only communicated with in letters and the occasional phone call was crazy to me. I knew that Uncle Beau had never had any children of his own and wondered if that was why he’d always been so fond of me. But he had a sister, and my mother had a brother. I had cousins... There were so many others who probably had more right to it than I. But he’d picked me. What had I done to deserve this? The thought was a grain of sand in my mind. But like a bit of food stuck in your back teeth, I couldn’t be rid of it.