Chapter 1

"You clean tables."

Glaring sternly down into her eyes, Candice's boss snatched the loaded spoon out of her hand. They stood in the walk-in freezer of Candice's new job as a shop assistant at Creamery 7, a trendy new ice cream spot that had become an overnight success in east Blackwater as soon as it opened its doors.

"You clean tables, and you stock the counter, and you wash dishes, and you wipe down windows, and you polish silver, and I certainly don't pay you to taste-test. Now, the next time I catch you trying to steal my ice cream, I'll make sure you eat the rest of your meals for the rest of your life through a straw. Is that understood?"

Candice nodded fearfully.

"When I ask you a question, you're to respond, 'Yes, Miss Cherry,' or 'Yes, Ma'am'. Unless you don't understand…in which case I'll be happy to have you maintain the plumbing until you do."

"There won't be a next time, Miss Cherry. Promise. On my mother's grave."

"Good. Now go make sure the counter has enough chocolate chips, will you?"

"Yes, Miss Cherry."

When she reached the counter, she found it at a shortage of nothing in the way of toppings, but there was a man perusing all the different ice creams, sorbets, and frozen yogurts on display. "Can I help you?" asked Candice.

"There's just so many flavors to choose from, I don't know where to start!"

"You can have more than one, depending on which size you want to get," Candice explained. "For example, if you just want an Original Sin–that's our single scoop–you can have one, but if you get the Seven Sins you can pick up to seven. I know that doesn't narrow it down, seeing as we have, like, fifty. But as for which ones are the best, that's a question to ask Miss–"

As if on cue, Cherry sashayed out of the prep kitchen and approached the counter. Boy, did she ever look out of place: the tall, slender strawberry blonde looked like the kind of woman who'd never even looked at ice cream in her life, and with her pretty face and elegant carriage, she could have easily gotten a job modeling the latest fashions from her pick of designers. Not that the men who came into the shop were complaining about any of that. Snappish and temperamental as she could be in the back of the house, she easily charmed any man who walked into the room with her coquettish smile and friendly conversation. In the three days since Candice had started working here, she'd watched so many fall under her spell.

"Well, hey there," Cherry said to the man. "I haven't seen you around before."

"I'm actually traveling for business. I just got a big promotion," he explained, "and I usually don't do dessert." That much, Candice could tell by his lean figure, accentuated by his sleek, tailored suit. She supposed he was cute in the face department–blue eyes, white smile, sandy blond hair freshly cut that gave way to a smartly trimmed beard. Not exactly her type, though. Cherry could have him.

And boy, would she hate to compete with Cherry for a man. Not that she would stand a chance, pudgy and unremarkable as she was. Lucky for her, she was happily spoken for. Unfortunately for her, she and her between-jobs boyfriend were shacked up together in an enclave of destitution on the cutthroat west side of town, which meant she ought to consider herself lucky to have been selected for a job in a bougie district that offered a comfortable paycheck, even if she had to endure a bit of verbal abuse.

"All things considered, I thought I deserved a treat, though," the customer went on, "so here I am."

"Well, it's a pleasure to have ya!" Cherry reached into the business card holder on the counter and handed him her card. "And if you're here on business, just know I do corporate catering as well."

"Cherry Garcia, huh?"

"It's my married name," explained Cherry, "but I'm no longer married, I just never changed it."

"His loss, I guess."

"So, where ya from?"

"Santana, Texas, actually."

"Ooh! Exotic!"

Just then, the bell above the door dinged, and a little brunette girl admitted herself into the dining room. "Mama, I'm back from school!"

Cherry gave Candice that look over her shoulder, the one that meant she was now on babysitting duty.

"Annie! Hey, kiddo!" Candice fetched Cherry’s daughter’s usual cola from the soda fountain and set it on a table for her with a napkin and spoon. "Mama's with a customer right now, but why don't I whip us up some supper and you can figure out a way for us to pass the time, okay?"

As she shuffled into the back, she overheard a bit of the conversation between Cherry and the customer she was chatting up.

"I'm really trying to keep it on the lighter side. Gotta watch my figure and all."

"Oh, here, try this!" chirped Cherry, offering him a sample spoon. "This is my Melon Mirage. Just something new I'm experimenting with. It's gluten free!"

He put it in his mouth and moaned. "Holy…that might be the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. I was only gonna get one scoop…but I think I'll be bad and get two!"

"Right away, Mister…"

Candice caught his name when he dropped it, but promptly forgot it. Something that started with an M; Mark or Matt or something.

The kitchen wasn't much of a kitchen, but there was a microwave, at least. Candice heated up the box of Easy Cheesy instant macaroni she'd brought from home and divied it into two bowls. When she returned to the table, Annie was seated in the booth, shuffling cards. "How about a few rounds of blackjack?"

They ate, and they played, and they talked. Annie won almost every time--for a sixth-grader, the girl sure could count cards.

"How's school?"

"I got written up again."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I told Mrs. Sykes she was wrong about the construction of the railroads."

"Well, Mrs. Sykes sounds like a real doodie-head."

"She's a complete imbecile."

Sometimes, Candice thought to herself, that kid scared her.

They finished their dinner and she cleared the plates, along with the five or so bowls that had landed, empty, on the counter, since Matt or Mark or whatever walked in.

"I know I said I'd be gone in a hurry, Cherry, but this is all too good!" he was saying. His firm little stomach was full to the brim, straining the buttons of his vest as he pushed back his stool and palmed it. And yet, he implored Cherry: "You're gonna think I'm such a pig, but can I stick around for another? And make it the Seven."

***

"How was work?"

The apartment was dank and dark, with a drippy roof and mold creeping up the walls from under the vent covers. Landon was perfect, though, soft in Candice's arms as she cuddled him on the couch before a Flickstream comedy playing on her pawn-shop laptop on the coffee table. She'd never told him this, but she liked how chunky he was. She was soft, in her own right, and she had never minded it, but she liked even more that his pillowy body, clocking in at upwards of 350 pounds, could smother hers so easily in a tight hug, or in bed. In her wildest dreams, she'd be feeding him chocolates while he lay with his head in her lap, eagerly softening for her pleasure, but she was too shy to speak her mind.

"It was okay. Miss Ch–I mean, Cherry's kind of a hardass, but–"

“Hey, I was thinking,” he interrupted, “now that the pharmacy’s laid me off, and you’ve got your nice job downtown, maybe I’ll go back to pursuing art. Build my portfolio, maybe start working for commissions?”

“I think that’s a great idea. Now that I can hold the bills down, it’s only right that you should go after your passions. Have you set up your artist page yet?” she asked, ceding the conversation to him. It wasn’t like she had much valuable to say, anyway. Just boring work crap.

***

Mark or Matt or whatever was back the next week. The guy from Texas. In such a short time, Candice had learned that was par for the course. Nobody didn’t come back to Creamery 7.

Among the counter full of customers vying for both Cherry’s attention and her confections, he stood out as the clear grand-prize winner. Out of the corner of her eye, Candice caught Cherry leaning over the counter to make hushed conversation with him.

At the ‘family table,’ as Candice had started calling it in her head, Annie set aside her empty bowl of instant ramen and moved her knight on the chessboard between them. “Checkmate,” she said, but after four consecutive victories, she sounded more bored than triumphant. “You’re too easy to beat.”

“I’m not very good with games,” Candice admitted. “But hey! Maybe you can think of it as playing against yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last time you beat me in twelve moves, and this time, it only took you eight. You beat your high score!”

“Oh!” Annie grinned, eyes gleaming.

Candice finished her own dinner and stacked their dishes and silverware up in a pile. “Hey, your mom looks like she’s in a good mood today! Why don’t I ask her to hook you up with a celebratory ice cream as a treat for your prowess at the board?”

Annie’s smile fell. “It wouldn’t do anything for me. It’s not an SSRI.”

“Uuh…”

“Oh, right. You want laymans’ speak. That ice cream can make a happy person happier, but it can’t make a sad person happy.”

“I’m sorry,” said Candice. “Why are you sad?”

“I wish I had a dad,” confessed the suspiciously savvy tween. “Maybe he’d actually pay attention to me.”

Candice offered a sad sigh. “I know it can be rough. My parents died when I was really little, and I was in a home for girls until I turned eighteen and they threw me out. But hey, I turned out okay.”

Annie didn’t respond, but Candice suspected it was more out of wanting to avoid being rude than anything else, because her eyes said, ‘Did you, really?’

She cleared the table, and stopped by the ice cream counter on her way to clear that, too. She bussed four empty bowls from in front of the guy from Texas, and they were the big ones. Matt or Mike or whatever was slumped over with his elbows on the glass. The buttons on his vest and fly were holding on for dear life over a tummy so tightly crammed with cold, sweet dairy that Candice feared even a slight jostle might have him bending double and hurling, and she dreaded being the one who had to mop the floor after that. But it wasn’t without a thrilled fascination that she looked on as he flagged down Cherry with a wave of his head and said, “Could I get another seven scoops of that cookie dough?”

“You got it, darling!” said Cherry. Then, “Candice, go dust off your apron. We’re running a business of repute, here.”

“Yes, Miss Cherry.”