The Charm Bracelet(47)

“Here, my dear,” Lolly said, handing her another napkin. “You could use this.”

“I’m so sorry, Grandma,” Lauren said, putting her beer down and blowing her nose. “People are staring.”

“That’s my granddaughter!” Lolly laughed. “Causing a scene, just like me.”

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him. I’m sorry he died so young.”

Lolly reached out for her granddaughter’s hand and took it in her lap.

“He would have loved you! He was such a good man. He was such a great husband and father. He would have made a wonderful grandfather, too.”

Lolly squeezed her granddaughter’s hand. “But I want you to know something: Although I miss him desperately, I don’t regret a day of my life. One year, thirty years, fifty years: I found the love of my life, and that is the greatest blessing. You do know, my dear, that all my tragedy has affected your mom in so many bad ways: My mother dying so young, my husband’s premature death, and never having enough money. That’s why she’s so strict with you. That’s why she feels she has to control life, so it won’t come unhinged on her. The only things we can control are our happiness, our destiny, our impact on others. Rest is up to God.”

Lauren sniffled and nodded.

“Are you crying because you don’t have someone to love like that?” Lolly asked. “Have you ever been in love?”

Lauren looked toward her mother. “No, I haven’t been in love. I think I may be a bit like my mom … wanting to control life too much.”

“Well, don’t,” Lolly admonished. “You’ll find someone special, and when you do fall in love, let me help you plan your wedding! I had a charm pull at mine…”

“What’s that, Grandma?”

“Cake pulls are an old tradition. My mom and grandma both had them. My wedding cake had a satin ribbon for each of my bridesmaids,” Lolly said excitedly. “Before Les and I cut the first slice, my bridesmaids each pulled a charm that was popping out from the bottom two layers of the cake. It was her keepsake for the day. I picked each one especially for every girl—ones for good luck, fortune, or romance—and prayed they would pick the right ones. And they all did! Jo picked the charm of little silver bells, meaning she would be the next to marry, and she did—the very next year!”

“I’d love for you to help me when I’m ready,” Lauren said. “I’ve been too focused on school to be open to love, but maybe that will change.”

“It would be my honor,” Lolly said, before looking over at her daughter and Jake. “And I’d be over the moon to see your mom fall in love again, too.”





Twenty-three




“My mother must be in heaven right now,” Arden said to Jake, nervously sipping her beer, as the lyrics to “The Way You Look Tonight” played in the background.

“She loves Ol’ Blue Eyes?” Jake asked.

“You haven’t heard the story?” Arden asked incredulously. “You must be the only one. See that picture by the bar? That’s my mom with Frank in the Rendezvous.”

“Wow!” Jake said. “She’s something else.”

That’s an understatement, Arden thought, surveying the table of Jake’s friends, all of whom were very polite, well-spoken, and nice. Almost too nice. It had been ages since Arden had sat at a table where it didn’t involve work or where someone didn’t have an agenda.

“Would you care to dance?”

Jake’s words interrupted Arden’s thoughts, and when she turned to look at him, the restaurant behind him whirled.

“Oh, me? No! No! I can’t dance!” Arden stuttered.

“Can’t or won’t?” Jake asked directly. “Those are two very different things. Everyone can dance. Most people won’t.”

Before she could say a thing, Jake was already on his feet, hand extended, leading Arden to a tiny square of warped parquet flooring just to the side of the jazz band.

Arden’s body was stiff as Jake took her into his big arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispered in a husky voice. “Loosen up. Just follow my lead.”

Arden felt dizzy and unsteady on her feet, but Jake was strong, more muscular than Arden had imagined. She held on tighter, one arm around his neck, the other around his back. He was solid, like a tree, and smelled of outdoors, a mix of fresh air and—what was that?—Fahrenheit cologne. A tuft of lustrous black hair spilled forth from the top of his plaid button-down.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Jake whispered above the music.

Still, Arden couldn’t help but hear the Sinatra line about “breathless charm.”

Must everything in my life have to involve the word “charm”? Arden thought, stealing a look toward her mother, who blew her a big kiss.

“I did a little research on you,” Jake said, swaying to Sinatra. “I’m impressed by all that you’ve accomplished. Paparazzi magazine … that’s huge.”

“Thank you,” Arden said softly.

“Do you write those articles?”

Arden hesitated. “Sort of.”

“Do you write books?”

“I … well … I did.”