“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.