The Sweet Life by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Author:Suzanne Woods Fisher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance;Ice cream parlors—Massachusetts—Cape Cod—­Fiction;Mothers and daughters—Fiction;FIC042040;FIC027020;FIC027270
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2022-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fifteen

Bad ice cream is better than no ice cream at all.

—Anonymous

Wednesday, April 30

If Dawn felt confused by Brynn’s texts, she felt outraged by Mrs. Nickerson-Eldredge’s visit.

The dour woman swept the interior of the Creamery with a dismissive glance. On the second sweep, her beady eyes zeroed in on Cowboy Leo, who’d been shadowing Dawn all afternoon. “Surely your mother is looking for you.”

Spurs jangling, he scooted out the door.

“I’ve never met Leo’s mother,” Dawn said, trying to ease the tension that filled the Creamery with Mrs. Nickerson-Eldredge’s presence. It was like the molecules in the room had started to vibrate. “Does his family live around here?”

“I don’t know nor do I care. I don’t particularly like children.”

A revelation, Dawn thought, that came as no surprise. But she knew that wasn’t the message Mrs. Nickerson-Eldredge had come to deliver. She braced herself.

“You must cease and desist on any further work of improvements on the Main Street Creamery.”

BOOM. There it was. Stunned, Dawn found herself unable to respond. “What? Why?” she finally managed. “Surely, you’re joking.”

“I never joke.”

Dawn pushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead and held her hand there, a dozen responses battled themselves out in her brain. “Tell me what we did that was so wrong?”

“The Historical Commission has not given you approval to paint the exterior.”

“The trim! The chipped and flaking trim. We’ve only repainted what’s already been painted. Same color as the trim on every shop in Chatham! Lincoln triple-checked before he bought the paint. He even took Nanette’s paint can with him to the hardware store.”

“I repeat,” she said, her mouth puckered so tightly it all but disappeared. “You need approval from the Historical Commission to paint any part of the exterior.”

Dawn’s fists curled in frustration. “My mother bought this building, lock, stock, and barrel. She should be able to do what she wants to do with the place.”

“Bah! The village of Chatham is not the state of Texas. We have traditions to uphold here. ‘If you don’t know history, then you don’t know anything. You are a leaf that doesn’t know it is part of a tree.’”

Dawn’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a quote by Michael Crichton. It means that in this town, we work together to preserve the history. To respect those who came before you. You and your mother are flagrantly disregarding any respect for our town.”

“That’s not true! We’re updating a tired, neglected old building.”

“That tired old building has meaning and purpose that started long before you arrived and will be here long after you leave.” Her gaze sharpened as she studied Dawn’s face.

It was almost as if Mrs. Nickerson-Eldredge sensed Dawn’s plan to sell the refurbished building after Labor Day. Stay calm, she told herself. Try logic. “Well, in the meantime, life can’t just stand still. There must be some middle ground of preserving the past while living in the present.”

“Indeed. That’s exactly what the Historical Commission aims to do.”

“Really? Because all it seems to do is to stop progress from happening.

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