Page 50 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

Chocolate chip.

Ugh. Maybe I should hold out for a better deal.

So you’d rather spend the evening by yourself going through your grandmother’s stuff alone?

On second thought, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

He smiled and called Longboard’s to place the order, then went through the storage room to do a quick inventory. His supplies needed restocking—from the waffle cone mix to heavy whipped cream, pure vanilla, and bags of sugar, even paper napkins—he barely had enough of everything to get him through the next couple of days. He went online, and filled out an order form for his supplier, placing the largest order since he had opened the store. After requesting an immediate delivery, he hit send.

He also sent an email to his grandmother, Mamie, letting her know what a great week they’d had, reminding her again how much everyone loved her basic recipe.

After loading up the cart with the ingredients he needed, he headed back to the counter and packed the first machine with plain vanilla and the second with chocolate. As the machines whirred in the background, he realized it might take him until midnight to replenish his inventory for the next two days.

The pizza arrived a few minutes before Rowan did. And she realized right away that he’d already started the ice cream process. “Aww, I wanted to see how you did that.”

“You’ll get your chance tonight. I have eight more batches to make plus a few waffle cones for your chocolate chip.”

“Wow. You make your own waffle cones? I just assumed you bought them.”

“If I bought them premade, they’d get incredibly stale. Have you ever ordered an ice cream cone only to realize the waffle cone was tough and chewy?”

“Lots of times. It’s not very tasty at all.”

“That’s why I choose to make my own fresh every morning. But maybe not after tonight,” he said, flipping up the lid on the pizza box and sliding a piece out on a plate. He offered it to her.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because of the crazy week we’ve had. I can’t keep up with demand. Maybe I should think about using store-bought.”

“Hey, no need to do that. I’ll help. Really. What part of my offering to help earlier did you miss? What else have I got to do for the next eighteen days?” She glanced around the shop. “Where’s Kiki? She’s not here to help?”

“Off on her grand adventure.” He took a seat at one of the tables. “When you offered to help, I thought maybe you were joking.”

She sat down across from him and studied his face. “What is it with you? You look depressed or something. Everything okay?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m blown away by the success of the shop. But at the same time, if I can’t keep up with production, knowing that scares me a little.”

“Why won’t you be able to keep up with production?”

“It’s a never-ending battle to meet demand. Ever since I opened the doors, I’ve had trouble hiring good help. Teenagers come and go. Kiki is the only one who stayed. She’s great for a seventeen-year-old kid who works part-time. She’s good with customers and pays attention at the cash register. But I need someone a little more mature who can oversee things at night. She doesn’t like working until nine in the evening. She’s young and doesn’t want to get stuck in an ice cream shop forever. Who can blame her? I don’t like leaving her alone in the store at night anyway. I worry.”

“That’s why you let her boyfriend hang around at night, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But how long will that last? I tried paying him to wait on customers, but Kiki told me he eats most of the inventory. Besides, he has a full-time job working as a delivery driver in San Sebastian five days a week. He told me he didn’t need to work at an ice cream shop in his spare time. If I can’t find an assistant manager, I might need to start closing at six or seven in the evenings.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I suppose not. It could be worse.”

“The conundrums of owning your own business,” Rowan muttered, munching on her pizza. “But that’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

Daniel nodded. “My grandmother, Mamie, lives back in Coyote Wells. She turned seventy-two on her last birthday. I worry about her, too. If not for her, I wouldn’t be sitting here in my own shop. She’s the genius behind the ice cream. The woman is flat-out amazing. She retired recently. I think she misses going to work every single day because she loved interacting with the customers.”

“What did she do?”

“She owned an ice cream store. She sold it to a young couple who wanted out of San Francisco.”

“What? You’re kidding? Maybe your grandmother is your perfect assistant manager.”

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