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.”
Arden’s jaw dropped. She turned to watch her mother work the urns.
“Doris, do you mind if my mom takes a break after her next show?”
“Not at all.”
“I think I want to buy her an ice cream cone.”
Twenty-seven
“Scoot your rear over a little more.” Lolly laughed, hitting Arden’s bottom with a cheek of her own. “There.”
Lolly, Arden, and Lauren squeezed onto a teak bench in the rose garden across from Dolly’s, three generations crammed together and eating triple scoop ice cream cones. Sun squeezed through the thick, verdant branches of the dogwood, birch, and redbud trees that canopied the small park.
“After these, we may not be able to fit on this bench anymore,” Arden said, licking a scoop of cappuccino chocolate chunk.