The Charm Bracelet(10)

“I’m talking a week or two off, Mom,” Lauren said. “Maybe head north the Sunday before Memorial weekend? Give ourselves a real break.”

“But I have so many things to do,” Arden said, thinking of Van and his veiled promise of a promotion. “How will they manage when I’m gone?”

“You deserve it, Mom. Let’s surprise Grandma!” Lauren stopped and shook her bracelet in her mother’s face. “Let’s be adventurous.”

Arden thought of the charm her mother had just sent her.

A mad hatter from the mad hatter.

The words from her mother’s note echoed in her head:

Remember, we all must go a little crazy sometimes to find our happiness.

That’s when some forgotten voice in the back of Arden’s head—one that sounded an awfully lot like her mother’s—overrode her logical one for the first time in a long time, and all she could say was, “Okay. Let’s do it.”





part two




The Dragonfly Charm

To a Life Filled with Good Fortune





Four




Main Street of Scoops, Michigan, looked like a live-action Currier & Ives portrait.

Arden watched as the little Victorian storefronts—filled with restaurants, coffee shops, clothing, jewelry, and handbag stores—drew in customers. Window boxes overflowing with petunias, marigolds, and begonias decorated every storefront.

“I forgot how quaint Main Street is,” Lauren said. “It’s just so … sweet, so quintessentially Norman Rockwell. Hey? Shouldn’t we call Grandma?”

“Let’s surprise her instead,” Arden suggested, sniffing the air, smelling the sweet smell of fudge. “I have this feeling…”

Arden let her voice trail off. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her down the narrow downtown streets canopied with white birch, sugar maples, and towering pines. An inland harbor—filled with bobbing boats, kayakers, and the last hand-cranked chain ferry in the United States—shimmered alongside Main Street, while in the distance they could see Lake Michigan and its towering dunes. It was a majestic backdrop.

They zipped through the bustling little downtown until they ran into resorters clotting the sidewalk outside Dolly’s Sweet Shop.

“Wow! I forgot about all the ‘fudgies,’” Arden said, using the nickname Michiganders called tourists who took over coastal resort towns from Memorial Day through Labor Day. “They’re like zombies. You just can’t get rid of them. And they arrive earlier and earlier every year.”

“Mother,” Lauren said, whacking her mother on the shoulder, and nodding toward Dolly’s nostalgic red storefront. “Ssshhh! You know why they’re here.”

“I do.”

Arden walked up and tapped on the large window etched with Dolly’s logo.

“Hi, Mom,” she called through the glass.

Lolly looked up from the copper urns at the sound of her daughter’s voice, her face changing from complete shock to total joy.

Lolly jumped up and down in the window, before handing her fudge-covered paddles to a young girl and running outside.

For as long as Arden could remember, her mother had been the center of attention in downtown Scoops. For decades, Lolly Lindsey had stood in the huge front window of Dolly’s Sweet Shop, like Auntie Mame, a bigger-than-life personality in small-town America. While many flocked for the fudge, most came for the “show.” Lolly was a regional treasure. She wore a variety of brightly colored vintage aprons: Red dotted with triple-scoop ice cream cones, white decorated with blueberries or cherries, pink with dancing cupcakes. But wigs were her signature look: Red, pink, white; bobs and beehives. Every hour on the hour, Lolly would dance and sing, “Hello, Dolly,” entertaining vacationers and luring tourists into the shop.

Arden and her mother were total opposites: Lolly was as dramatic as Arden was buttoned down. And while Lolly’s theatrics often embarrassed Arden, she was beyond happy to see her mother.

“My girls! What a surprise!” Lolly yelled, pulling Arden in for a bear hug. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Lolly turned to Lauren, pulled her close and began to jump anew. Lauren joined in, jumping up and down, screaming in unison with her grandmother, their bracelets rattling.

“We missed you and wanted to spend Memorial Day with you!” Lauren said, her words bouncing in the air along with her body. “I love you, Grandma!”

Lolly stopped jumping and pulled her granddaughter into her arms. “I love you, too, my dear,” she whispered, before turning to Arden and raining her cheeks with kisses. “And I love you, too, my baby. It’s been too long.”

“I know,” Arden said. “I love you, too, Mom.”

As Lolly took her daughter’s face in her hands to study it closely, Arden thought, My God, she’s aged.

Even underneath the wig and all the makeup, her mother looked so much older than the last time she had seen her. Lolly’s bright red lipstick trailed up the deep crevices that ran northward from her lips, like tiny rivers. Under all the foundation, Arden could still detect dark circles, and there was a hollowness in her cheeks despite her blush. Even her mother’s eyes—long the color of the blue hydrangeas she loved so much—had faded. Her apron and sweat suit couldn’t hide her shrinking body or rounding back.