The Charm Bracelet

by Viola Shipman

  Silence gripped the table. “Tomorrow!” Lolly finally said. “You’re coming by Friday to make sure I’m alive, right? Even though it’s the start of the holiday weekend?”

  Jake laughed heartily. “Wouldn’t miss it. Ladies, drive safely. And, Arden? I had a wonderful night.”

  Arden’s face flushed, and she fidgeted with her eyeglasses.

  “Me, too,” she replied softly.

  The ride home was quiet, save for the chorus of early summer peepers that lived in the surrounding farms, fields, and ponds.

  Another chorus greeted the Lindsey ladies as soon as they returned to the cabin and Lolly had turned off the Woodie’s engine.

  Whooo-dooo-ooooh-ooooh!

  Lolly smiled in the darkness and thought of her husband. “I’m wiped out, girls. Off to bed. I love you dearly.”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  “Good night, Grandma. Thanks for sharing your love story,” Lauren said, hugging her grandmother.

  “My pleasure. Night night.”

  A few seconds later, Arden and Lauren saw the lights in Lolly’s bedroom come on. The two remained quiet, watching the lake dance in the moonlight, until they could see Lolly crawl into bed and turn off the lights.

  “She told you about your grandfather? And the loons?”

  “She did. It is so beautiful, Mom. I hope we can both find that one day.”

  Whooo-dooo-ooooh-ooooh!

  “I’m sorry about my reaction today,” Arden said. “I just want to protect you.”

  Her voice surprised the loons, and they took off running across the lake, before awkwardly lifting into the air.

  “I know,” Lauren said, nodding at the loons. “But at some point, I just have to take off, like them, no matter how hard it might be to watch. I’ll either fall or fly.”

  Arden took her daughter’s hand, Lauren’s bracelet jangling, and the two walked to the end of the dock and dangled their feet into the water, where they talked about first love, risk, and an ache that still called, like the haunting sounds of Fred and Ethel.

  part seven

  The Ice Cream Cone Charm

  To a Sweet Life Filled with a Passion for What You Do

  Twenty-four

  “Good morning! Happy Memorial Day weekend!”

  Lolly pulled an old ceramic mug dotted with blueberries from an open cupboard overflowing with mismatched cups and saucers, and filled Arden’s mug to the brim with coffee.

  “How’d you sleep?” Lolly asked, looking at Arden and her white sweatshirt emblazoned with the slogan WE GIVE YOU THE STARS AND THE SWOON underneath the famed Paparazzi logo.

  “Like a rock,” Arden replied, blowing on the steaming mug before taking a generous sip. “A rock that had three beers and danced with a complete stranger.”

  Arden’s sweet, unguarded admission surprised Lolly and immediately sent her into a fit of giggles, which caused her arm to twitch and scatter the chocolate chips she was sprinkling into the pancake batter across the kitchen floor.

  “Oh, my dear! I’m so proud of you. It feels good to have friends and a little fun again, doesn’t it?”

  Arden took another sip of coffee and tilted her head, contemplating her mother’s words. “It does.”

  Arden hesitated. “And I told Lauren about Clem yesterday, too.”

  The new admission surprised Lolly again, causing her to smile brightly. “How did Lauren react?”

  “She said she’d never felt closer to me,” Arden said, smiling. “I’m beginning to think she never thought I was human.” Arden’s words were tinged with the regret she felt for waiting so long to open up to her daughter.

  Lolly turned to look at her daughter. “Every generation can benefit by learning from the one before,” she said, nodding toward Arden’s sweatshirt. “And I’m sorry to say you can seem closed-off at times, my dear. That job of yours takes up so much of your time and attention.”

  Lolly lifted the chocolate chip–coated spatula from the batter and offered it to Arden to lick, just as she had always done when Arden was a little girl. Licking the spoon always made Arden feel better instantly.

  Arden smiled at her mother’s offer, quickly grabbed the spatula, and walked to the kitchen sink. As she licked the spatula, she looked out at Lost Land coming awake. The waters were calm, the sun’s early morning light turning the lake alternating colors of brilliant blue and sea glass green. White swans floated on the surface, craning their necks as they swam, while sparrows dove like The Blue Angels around the lake.

  Arden thought of her father and grandfather, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her eyes were greeted by the warped wooden dock jutting into the lake.

  So many memories—good, bad, happy, sad—on that little dock. It had, literally, been the jumping off place for my love of books, my love of writing.

  Her mother’s charm bracelet jangled as she flipped the pancakes.

  This is where my mother’s love of charms began, Arden thought.

  “I’ve forgotten how beautiful it is here,” Arden sighed. “I’ve … well … I’ve just forgotten.”

  Lolly smiled at her daughter, retrieving her own mug of coffee and refilling it.

  “I’m glad you’re remembering as I’m starting to forget,” Lolly said. She hesitated but continued quietly, “You know, names slip me sometimes.”

  Arden wrapped her arm around her mother’s waist. “I know, Mom.” She pulled her close. “I’ll always remember. I promise you. And I’ll always help you remember, too. Didn’t you say that we have to live in the moment? That’s all any of us can do, right?”

  Lolly nodded.

  “Well, then, I’ll finish the pancakes, if you make more coffee,” Arden said. “It won’t be pretty if Lauren wakes up without caffeine.”

  Lolly smiled and hugged her daughter.

  “Let me get a broom and dust pan first,” she said, looking down at the errant chocolate chips still scattered across the wood floor. “It won’t be pretty if she walks in without caffeine and thinks ants have invaded the cabin.”

  The two laughed, and then mother and daughter finished making breakfast together.

  Twenty-five

  “I’m so glad you two decided to join me,” Lolly said, as the wind tossed tendrils of her blond beehive about her head wildly.

  The Woodie’s windows were down, the wind whipping through the car as Lauren drove. “It’s going to be a madhouse in town, what with this perfect weather. I thought I’d go for Brigitte Bardot today,” Lolly laughed from the passenger seat, fussing with her wig.

  “Who?” Lauren asked.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Lolly said, looking at her granddaughter. “Wrong generation … by about four decades. I thought I’d look—what do you kids say today—very ‘retro.’”

  Lauren laughed, nodding her appreciation. “YOLO, right, Grandma?”

  “YOLO!” Lolly repeated, sticking her face out the window.

  Memorial Day weather in Michigan was as unpredictable as a kitten. It could be sunny and seventies, or raw and rainy. Scoops had even experienced a handful of Memorial weekends where the angry skies spit snow, the coast refusing to let go of winter.

  But today was perfection. And having her family here for the first time in ages made it even better for Lolly.

  She pulled down the ancient visor in the Woodie and looked into the wavy mirror, more to steal a glance at Arden, reading emails in the backseat.

  Lolly’s body suddenly ricocheted into the door, and Arden’s cell flew all the way from the backseat to the front seat.

  “LAUREN!”

  Lauren screamed and regained control of the Woodie, which had briefly gone off the side of the narrow two-lane road and skidded on gravel.

  “Sorry,” she said, guiltily flipping up her own visor. “I thought I’d check my hair, too, since Grandma was. This steering wheel has a lot of play in it.”

  “You have to keep a tight grip on the big wheel,” Lolly said, repositioning her granddaughter�
��s hands at “10” and “2,” their charm bracelets colliding. “It’s sorta like steering the space shuttle with a kite string.”

  Arden shut her eyes and inhaled, willing her heart to slow. “Can you hand me my phone, please, Mom? It seems to have a mind of its own.”

  Lolly retrieved the phone from the floorboard by her feet, and then slipped it into her purse.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Arden asked in a panic.

  “Why are you working today?” Lolly asked. “It’s an official holiday.”

  Lolly turned to look at her daughter. “You’re missing this gorgeous day by keeping your head down to read your emails. Those can wait. This,” Lolly said, gesturing with her hand out the window, “can’t. Remember what you said just this morning about how you’ve forgotten how beautiful it is here?”

  Arden sighed and nodded. “You’re right, Mom.”

  The Woodie passed a local tourism billboard featuring a woman reading a book on the beach.

  “Remember how you used to love to write?” Lolly asked Arden. “You dreamed of being a writer. Your little face would light up when you told me about the stories you were writing. You were so talented. Whatever happened to your novel?”

  Arden thought of her recent conversation with Zoe and her long-lost writing group days.

  “It sort of took a backseat,” Arden said, “to life.”

  “Did you get the charm I sent you?”

  Arden smiled at her mother’s persistence. “Yes. It was such a sweet gesture, Mom, but you realize those charms are purely sentimental.”

  “Mom!” Lauren yelled.

  “Well, it’s true. They’re sweet, but they don’t change anything.”

  Lolly turned around again in her seat, her face now as white as her wig. “They do! You just don’t believe in dreams anymore. Where did all that girlish enthusiasm and talent go? If you love what you do…”

  “I know, Mother,” Arden said, interrupting her. “You’ve told me this a million times.”

  “Then say it again. Out loud. To remind yourself.”

  Arden let the warm wind whip across her face. “If you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life.”

  Twenty-six

  Downtown Scoops was jammed to its gills.

  Even larger hordes of fudgies had descended on the town, like a swarm of hungry locusts.

  By the time Lauren found a parking space and the courage to parallel park the giant Woodie, Lolly had to dash to the fudge shop and enter through the back door to avoid the snaking line in front.

  “Hi, everyone!” Lolly said to the crew at Dolly’s while firing up her dueling copper urns and scrambling to pull together ingredients to start the fudge. “It’s crazy out there!”

  “Hi, Lolly!” the group yelled, many of whom applauded her dramatic arrival.

  “Yeah! The holiday weekend can really start now!” a young girl with dark hair layered with dyed purple streaks said.

  “Do you wanna help?” Lolly asked Arden and Lauren. “I need to touch up my makeup before my first show.”

  Lauren and Arden were nearly paralyzed as the crew sprinted around preparing the shop to open. To Lauren, the scene reminded her of a Christmas cartoon special, in which elves ran around Santa’s workshop making sweets, building toys, filling stockings, and essentially spreading happiness.

  “Sure,” Lauren said. “What can we do?”

  “Stir the pots!” Lolly instructed, pulling on a set of long, pink gloves. “Don’t let the cream scorch!”

  Lolly ran to the front windows and moved the hands of the NEXT SHOW clock to NOON. The sight sent the waiting crowd into a frenzy.

  “Dolly! Dolly! Dolly!” they chanted.

  “This is crazier than a Justin Bieber concert,” Lauren said, her eyes wide. “This is such a rush.”

  “You’re still high from the chocolate chip pancakes, maple syrup, and coffee,” Arden said, stirring the urn of fudge with her paddle.

  “Mom, this is a blast,” Lauren said. “You can’t deny that.”

  Arden started to say something, but Lauren cut her off. “Do you think it’s against the health code to stick my face into this pot?”

  Arden laughed, as her mother dashed out of the bathroom in full Dolly Van Voozle costume. In addition to her blond beehive and clownish cheeks, Lolly had chosen a flapper dress covered in shiny red paillettes and ending in fringe, with strands of multicolored Mardi Gras beads and dangling earrings in the shape of ice cream cones. Over that, she had tied her favorite vintage apron, red dotted with dancing ice cream cones.

  Dong! Dong! Dong!

  The old clock chimed in the rose garden across the street. The crowd outside counted, “One! Two! Three!…” as the chimes climbed to a dozen. When they finished, the spectators once again began to chant, “Dolly! Dolly! Dolly!”

  “How do I look?” Lolly asked her girls.

  “Like a dream,” Lauren said. “Like my grandma!”

  Lolly winked a big fake lash at her, slapped Arden on the rear, and turned to the old man at the player piano. “Ready, Don?”

  “Is fudge sweet?” he laughed. “Another Memorial Day weekend together, eh?”

  The old man’s jaw quivered a little, his voice filled with emotion. His little face resembled that of an apple doll’s. Lolly walked over and gave him a side hug.

  “We’ve got a lot of years left, Don,” she whispered, adjusting his giant red bow tie. “Don’t go all soft on me now.”

  Don smiled, his thick grey eyebrows twitching in delight.

  The workers at Dolly’s applauded the duo, and began to chant with the crowd.

  “Let’s go!” Lolly said, taking Don’s hand.

  The blinds lifted.

  The door opened.

  The crowd screamed.

  Lolly emerged, still in tennis shoes, the sweet smells of the shop and Don trailing along behind her.

  “Greetings!” Lolly yelled.

  “Hello, Dolly!” the crowd yelled back.

  Lolly yanked off her apron to reveal the sequined dress, shimmying just so to make the fringe dance.

  The crowd roared.

  Don handed Lolly her feather boa, and she curtsied as he ambled away. Through the windows, the shop and its treasures were now on full display, the sun like a spotlight illuminating the copper urns, fudge, ice cream, taffy, and candies as well as Don, now seated at the player piano, started the piano and the music began.

  Lolly walked up to an elderly man leaning on a cane, and placed her boa around his neck. She began to sing and his face broke into a smile as bright as the midday sun. Then she urged the crowd to sing along with her.

  Arden shook her head from inside the shop and walked away as yet another group played along, putty again in her mother’s hands.

  But, suddenly, there was silence.

  Arden tilted her head.

  Nothing.

  Arden raced back to the window.

  Music from the player piano continued to squeak from the speakers. Lolly turned and looked back at Arden, panicked. Without thinking, Arden began to pantomime the lyrics, swaying back and forth. Lolly’s face instantly brightened.

  “We feel the shop swaying ’cause the piano’s a-playing,” Lolly sang, the crowd none the wiser, nodding back at Don, “one of your favorite songs from way back when!”

  When Lolly finished, she took a dramatic bow, flinging her boa behind her head, as people in the crowd applauded and went in for hugs before flooding the shop to buy sweets.

  Lolly posed for pictures, and as she did, her mind flashed, like the cameras: Actually, Dolly is going away, fading, one day at a time, she thought with sadness.

  “Thank you,” a young mother said, stroking Lolly’s back. “My whole family has adored you for ages. You will live forever in our photo albums and memories.”

  Lolly’s jaw quaked, but she steeled herself and hugged the woman. “Thank you, my dear. You have no idea how much that means to me today.”

  As
soon as the crowd outside had dissipated, Lolly walked inside to the clock adhered to the window and moved the hands up an hour.

  NEXT SHOW: 1:OO, it now read.

  She put her apron back on, adjusted her wig, and took over the paddles from Lauren and Arden.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to Arden.

  “You’re welcome,” Arden said. “You will get through this, okay? Even if you have to use a sheet to remember the lyrics. People will still love you.”

  Lolly smiled and began to stir the chocolate.

  “Look at her smile,” Lauren whispered to her mom. “She’s not just punching a time clock, is she?”

  As Lauren walked over to help her grandma stir the fudge, her words struck a chord in Arden and, as if led by an external force, she found herself walking directly over to Doris Van Voozle, Dolly’s granddaughter, who now owned the shop.

  “It’s good to see you!” Doris said, hugging Arden. “Glad you could make it up this year.”

  “Me, too,” Arden said, before nodding toward her mother. “Act never changes, does it?”

  Doris’s doughy face considered Arden’s question. “Some things never should,” she said, straightening her own white apron with Dolly’s logo emblazoned on the front. “There’s not enough innocence in the world. There’s not enough nostalgia. The world is all bad news and ticker tape terror. Your mother makes people feel safe and happy. She reminds them of the way the world used to be. Escapism, like in those celebrity profiles you do, right? If that’s not a necessary gift today, I don’t know what is.”

  Arden’s mind shifted, and she smiled at the woman’s words.

  “Still can’t believe your mother came up with this whole Dolly idea,” Doris said matter-of-factly, before turning to head to the cash register, jammed with customers. “Sure been great for our business all these years.”

  “Wait! What?” Arden asked, confused. “What do you mean she came up with this whole idea?”

  “Didn’t you know?” Doris asked, ringing up a family laden with sweets. “The whole she-bang, from the Dolly song and act to making the fudge in the front window. She just walked in one day off the street, introduced herself, and told us she was lonely and needed hope. I was a bit skeptical at first, and sort of let her try it out, because I felt sorry for her. But she was a huge hit, so I gave her a job. I don’t want anything to change. Especially your mom. She is a gift.”