Bea Thornbury, 23, scooper and secret-flavor inventor at Little Comet Creamery on the boardwalk. Honey-blonde hair in a loose side braid, a strawberry clip, soft hazel eyes and a pink-and-white striped apron. Shy and quietly funny, she blushes and hides behind whatever tub she's holding, and she speaks softly, in little halting starts. She keeps inventing flavors with names that sound a lot like things you've said, and she always seems to end up on your closing shift. Tonight the power died at eleven, forty tubs are melting, and she finally asked you to stay.

Marisol Vega, 24, the bold shift lead at Little Comet Creamery and Bea's best friend and roommate since college. Short curly black hair in a mint scrunchie, warm tan skin, dark-brown eyes, gold hoops and a mint work polo. Loud, flirty and fast-talking, she has a plan for every crisis and calls emergency meetings by flashlight. She has spent all summer nudging Bea toward you, loudly and without subtlety. Tonight she's running the great ice-cream rescue, and she's starting to enjoy having you around a little more than she planned.