“Mr. Olsen called earlier and ordered five bags of horse feed,” Tyler called out. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll load it up and take it out to him.”

“That sounds good.” His dad had a toothpick stuck in the side of his mouth, and he sucked on it. “Son, that girl . . .”

Tyler swiped his thick blond hair off his sweaty forehead with the heel of his hand. “I know, Dad.”

“Not sure she’s up to much good.”

Tyler leaned on the handle of the rake. “You’re probably right. But she thinks she is, which is all that matters to her.”

His dad chuckled.

Tyler took up the rake again, his muscles burning as he pulled the straw into piles.

“You’ve always been a big help to me, son.” Not one for public displays of affection or praise, his dad was staring down at his boots. “I appreciate your hard work. I want you to know that.”

“I know, Dad. I’m happy to help.”

His dad looked like he had more to say, but after a brief hesitation, he rapped the screen door with his knuckles and headed back inside. As his dad’s footsteps retreated, Tyler stared up at the business that could no doubt provide him with a steady and solid future. It was right there for the taking. He chewed the edge of his lip, then tapped his rake against the pine straw–covered ground and pulled.

Three

1979

Violet knew all about Friendly’s Ice Cream. Everyone in Sugar Bend did. What had started as a single shop, barely bigger than a large closet, had grown into a chain of six stores across the county, each with twenty-five flavors and its own “Friendly’s Girl.” The owner of Friendly’s Ice Cream, Jay Malone, told people he’d lived in Sugar Bend his whole life, though no one remembered seeing him before the day he drove up and unlocked the door to the coolest new shop in town. He had plenty of employees to work each store, but he often dropped by out of the blue to serve a few customers himself. That would get everyone excited, because Jay was known as the friendliest guy around.

Folks in town traded stories of the man until he became almost larger than life, a small-town celebrity sitting contentedly on a chocolate-chip pedestal. He was known to show up just when a person needed help the most, offering an umbrella in a sudden thunderstorm, a can of gas when the boat motor ran dry, or a spare tire after running over a nail in the road. And the girls he hired to be the faces of his stores were equally as awe-inspiring. The Friendly’s Girls wore red-and-white shift dresses with wide white collars and slits at the thigh, knee-high white boots, and crocheted hats with a red flower on the front. Being named one of Jay’s girls meant instant local fame in the form of radio jingles and TV commercials and, they hoped, a step toward becoming someone who mattered. Every woman in town wanted to be chosen, but it was an honor only bestowed on a few.