“Shut your eyes! I’m a fairy princess, so I’m going to grant you a wish. But you have to shut your eyes.”
Lolly closed them tightly. The little girl lifted her glitter wand and brought it down lightly, touching Lolly on the top of the head with it. Lolly kept her eyes shut, until she heard the little girl giggling. When she opened her eyes, the girl was nestled in the crook of her mother’s arm, who was carrying a big bag of Dolly’s fudge.
“I hope she wasn’t too much of a bother,” the little girl’s mother whispered.
“Not at all. She’s an angel,” Lolly said, still in a trance. “Do you mind if I ask her a question?”
“No,” the mother said, cocking her head.
“What wish did you grant me?” Lolly asked.
“I can’t tell you,” the little girl said very seriously. “But if you believe, it will come true.”
“Well, we best be going,” the mother said. “Have a great day!”
“You, too,” Lolly said, as the two made their way down the street, the little girl’s pink tulle floating in the wind. “Oh! Excuse me! I’m sorry to bother you, but can I ask one more question?” Lolly called, suddenly chasing them down the street.
The mother turned and smiled, a quizzical look etched on her youthful face. “I guess. Sure.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Honey?” she said, looking at her daughter. “You can tell the nice lady.”
The little girl turned, her tiara shimmering, her face bright. “Hope!” she said.
The mother waved, and the two disappeared into the crowd of fudgies. Lolly felt dizzy and returned to take a seat on the bench in front of the shop. She shut her eyes and felt the top of her head, which she could swear was tingling.
Lolly heard a door chime, and when she opened her eyes, she was staring directly at the big sign on the fudge shop’s front window, where an image of the original Dolly Van Voozle appeared.
You look just like the ice cream lady!
Lolly’s heart raced again. She now understood what the little girl was saying. She did look like Dolly.
Beyond the fudge store, the backdrop of the coastline—a triple scoop of shoreline—caught Lolly’s eyes, and she stood, finally understanding the wish Hope had granted her.
Believe! Believe!
Without thinking, Lolly rushed into Dolly’s, asked for the owner, and began to explain—in a rush—her vision for a show and front window display to lure customers into the shop.
A half hour later, Lolly emerged into the sunshine not only with a job but also a cone—on the house.
And the ice cream tasted just like it had when she was a little girl.
Twenty-nine
“Never underestimate the power of ice cream!” Lolly said, polishing off her cone, and jostling the knees of her daughter and granddaughter. “The purity of that little girl made me realize I could still dream, that I could still be anything I wanted, that my world wasn’t ending. And I believe my gift to the world is to make others happy, to forget about the real world for a little while, to be a kid, just like Hope. My simple, silly little job fills me with purpose. It keeps me young.”
A pair of fat robins chirped happily on a nearby branch. Lolly sighed.
“Do what makes you happy. It sounds so simple and yet it’s so hard, because few of us do. We live out of fear. We live for others, their hopes and expectations. We do what makes everyone else happy.”
She stopped and looked hard at her daughter and granddaughter, before continuing. “Why do we make it so hard? Our purpose should be our passion. We should sing every day as happily as those robins. My job may not change the world, but at the end of the day, I am complete. And that’s all we can hope for, isn’t it?”
Arden and Lauren shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bench.
Lolly stood and softly mussed up her girls’ hair. “Well, enough preaching! I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll leave you two to talk. See you later for dinner. Let’s barbecue tonight! Hamburgers, chicken, foiled potatoes, corn on the cob. I’ll bring the ice cream!”
“And Arden,” Lolly said, stopping, “thank you for today.”
The two watched Lolly amble slowly down the brick path and out of the garden. They followed her wig as it bounced above the rhododendrons, and a few seconds later they heard the fudgies across the street yell, “Dolly!”
Arden scooched over on the bench and reached out her hand to her daughter. Lauren took it, tentatively at first, her hand open, her fingers unbound.
“The arts are full of such risk,” Arden said. “I just wanted you to be safe and protected. My mom tells a great story, but we struggled after my dad died. I worked a lot of jobs to make it through college.”