The Charm Bracelet(17)

The rain began to slow, and sunshine filtered through the pines.

Arden rolled down her window—the smell of fresh pine invading her senses—and started the car. As she drove, she heard a soft flitter, and then she saw it—a flock of dragonflies rushing by her car.

Arden thought of the charm her mother had bought her so long ago, and shook her head at its erroneous premonition.

To a life filled with good fortune, indeed, Mom.





Seven




The scent of cinnamon and sugar arrived before Arden had fully woken up.

One of the quirks of growing up and living amongst a group of little log cabins alongside a lake was that you could smell—and hear—nearly everything your neighbors were cooking and doing, especially in the summer season: Scents and stories wafted through open windows and floated from screened porches: Muffins and bacon, coffee and cookies, grilled steaks, fried fish, and the latest local gossip.

This morning, Arden already knew she would be having her mother’s rhubarb–sour cream coffeecake.

“It smells delicious,” Arden said, as she entered the cabin’s tiny kitchen, her foot coming to rest on an errant rhubarb leaf. “But it looks like a natural disaster.”

Lolly’s kitchen was always filled with life, and it had as much or more character than its owner: Old, warped, and worn pine countertops, open cupboards painted farmhouse red with vintage cherry-print fabric on tension blinds serving as the doors. A giant, white farmhouse sink sat below a window overlooking the lake, while a center island of lake stones took up the middle of the space. The antique appliances—the pink gas stove and the aqua refrigerator—suddenly took on deeper meaning for Arden. She could picture herself as a little girl helping her mother bake, running back and forth from fridge to stove to island with ingredients and measuring cups.

Who would’ve guessed they’d outlast my mom? Arden couldn’t help but think.

“She’s messier than Julia Child, but I’m determined to make a baker out of her yet,” Lolly laughed, nodding at Lauren.

Lolly had positioned a large, dark green rhubarb leaf on top of her red wig, like a sort of bizarre beanie, while Lauren’s blond hair now featured two stalks of luscious red rhubarb holding a bun in place.

“It’s my country nod to chopsticks,” Lauren smiled, striking a supermodel pose. “You like?”

“I’m hoping the coffeecake is better.”

Lolly and Lauren looked at each other, surprised by Arden’s sense of humor. “We have a third Musketeer?” Lauren asked with faux astonishment. She picked up three rhubarb stalks, handing one to her mother and the other to her grandmother. “Touché!”

“En garde!” Lolly laughed.

“We need to talk after breakfast,” Arden said, putting her rhubarb stalk down, then turning to leave the kitchen. She added, “We need to finish our conversation from yesterday.”

Lauren frowned, placing her veggie sword atop a cutting board and whacking it with a knife.

“Let’s check the coffeecake!” Lolly said, winking at Lauren while opening the oven door. “Always insert a toothpick into the center. If it comes out clean, it’s ready … and it’s ready!”

“My first coffeecake!” Lauren said with amazement.

Lolly cut a little edge of the coffeecake—bright red spots against a fluffy white cake, all nestled under a golden crumb topping of brown sugar, cinnamon, and butter—and then blew on the fork to cool it. Lauren took a bite. Lolly followed suit and smiled.

“It won’t be your last! It’s delicious! Get the coffee. I’ll bring out the cake!”

The desert rose dishes rattled a bit in Lolly’s hands as she set them down, pushing aside a half-finished puzzle, which had seemed to occupy the middle of the trestle table on the screened porch for as long as Arden could remember. “It’s lovely today. You know how Memorial Day weekends can be.”

Arden scooted up the long wooden picnic bench and took a seat at the small, pine green table. Her rear and arms sank into position: Years of use had molded diners’ arms and rear ends into the table and bench. You didn’t just sit at this table, it enveloped you.

“A little homemade whipped cream?” Lolly asked, placing a small container onto the table. “Just to gild the lily?”

Lolly took a big scoop of whipped cream and threw it on Arden’s coffeecake.

“So? What do you think?” Lauren asked. “It’s my first coffeecake.”

Arden took a bite, her face brightening with delight. “It’s incredible.”

Lauren’s face lit up like the day. “Grandma’s recipe.”

Lolly and Lauren took a seat on the glider, and the three sipped coffee while watching Lost Land Lake come alive as resorters returned to open their homes for the long Memorial Day weekend: Boaters, floaters, and kayakers spilled onto the lake, grills were dragged into back yards, Adirondack chairs were lined up along the sandy beach, while inner tubes and fishing poles were stacked on docks. Lolly’s cabin sat at the end of Lost Land Lake, and the water lapped just a few yards from the screened porch: It was the perfect location. Loons and reeds were her closest companions, while the commotion remained at a distance.

The loons moaned their soulful cry, and Lolly pursed her fire engine lips and whistled, her mouth and throat eliciting a clucking moan exactly like that of a loon. A few seconds later, the loons returned her call.