The Charm Bracelet(8)

“Who is this?” Arden asked.

“This is Doris Van Voozle. I own the fudge shop in Scoops where your mother works. I know it’s been a long time since we’ve seen one another…”

“Oh, yes … yes,” Arden said, as she tried to remember exactly how long it had been. “How are you?”

“Gearing up for another summer in Scoops,” she said. “Our high season is almost here. And everyone’s looking forward to your mother again…”

“I bet they are,” Arden replied, trying to make it sound as if she meant it.

“The reason I’m calling is that your mother, well … she’s missed a few of her shifts recently,” Doris said, a hint of worry in her spirited voice. “She always comes in as soon as I call … and she always makes a joke out of it. Says she needs a lot more beauty sleep these days, or that her calendar is hard to update because she has to chisel it onto stone.”

Arden laughed. That sounded exactly like her mom.

“That’s so unlike her to miss work,” Arden said. “She loves you. She loves working at Dolly’s. It’s her whole life.”

“And we love her. That’s why I was a bit worried about her,” Doris said, before adding, “Oh, by golly, it’s Lolly! Forget I called. Your mother just walked in.”

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Doris yelled. Arden could tell her hand was over the receiver to muffle her shouts. But then Doris began to whisper, “Let’s just keep this between us, okay? I wouldn’t want to upset her. She’s here now. No worries. I sure hope we get to see you someday soon. Your mom said it’s been years.”

Arden’s worry about her mother immediately changed to guilt.

“I do, too,” Arden said, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’ll try and see you soon. Bye, Doris.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

Arden had just ended the call, but she was still thinking about her mother and what the call meant when she heard her daughter’s voice.

“Oh, Mom!” Lauren called, stopping beside Marilyn’s giant heels. “I didn’t see you there. You…”

“… blend with the concrete?”

“No,” Lauren said, immediately embarrassed. “Well, sort of.”

“You certainly don’t, young lady.”

Lauren laughed and pirouetted all the way around Marilyn’s giant gam.

She was wearing a lime-green, off-the-shoulder top that billowed in the Chicago wind; tight, cropped lemon-colored jeans; large hoop earrings; a jangle of vintage necklaces; and a stack of neon jelly bracelets that would have made Madonna jealous in the eighties. Lauren’s blond hair was tousled and past her shoulders.

“So? How are finals going so far?” Arden smiled at her daughter and asked.

“Intense, but fine. Business is … business,” Lauren sighed.

“Fine?” Arden asked. “You don’t sound fine at all. What’s wrong?”

There had been an infinite number of times Lauren could have spilled the beans about knowing how bitter her mother’s divorce had been and about finding all of the overdue bills and financial statements. So many times she could have told her mother she hated studying business, but she didn’t want to add to her mother’s pressure.

“Just stressed about finals, I think. I’m hungry. What do you want to do for lunch?” she added, changing the subject.

Arden raised her eyebrows, and Lauren knew that could only mean one thing.

“Garrett’s popcorn?” Arden asked.

Lauren laughed and pulled her mother away from Marilyn. For most mothers and daughters, popcorn wouldn’t constitute “lunch.” But when Lauren and Arden were feeling stressed and when it was Garrett’s famed corn, it did. “I’m guessing you want the Garrett Mix? Caramel and cheese?” Lauren said.

“You must be a mind reader,” Arden joked. “I’ll just double up on my spinning classes this weekend, or go for some really long runs.”

“It’s Garrett’s!” Lauren said. “Totally worth it, and we’ll walk as we eat it anyhow, right?”

The two zipped over to Michigan Avenue and got in the long line to nab a large, hot bag of the savory-sweet corn combo.

As the line snaked its way up to the counter, Arden thought about the many times they’d gone to Garrett’s to ease breakups, setbacks, and disappointments. There had been Lauren’s loss at the state debate tournament, her split from her boyfriend right before prom.

How many times did I come here after fighting with my ex, or after convincing myself I didn’t need to finish my book? Arden thought.

“One large bag of the combo,” the two said in unison when they reached the counter.

The duo rolled down the sides of the giant grease-stained paper bag, chomping, walking, and window shopping, leaving a trail of popcorn down the sidewalk.

“Look at these shoes, Mom!” Lauren yelled excitedly. “You should get them.”

Arden stared at the strappy, sky-high heels. They were the kind celebrities wore in paparazzi pictures, but not Arden.

“Too dangerous,” Arden said. “Too sexy.”

The two were still studying the window when they heard, “Arden?”