The Charm Bracelet(80)

And that’s when Lauren saw the brightly colored banner whipping in the wind, the reason she had decided on a whim to come to town with her grandmother:

75th ANNUAL TULIP QUEEN PAGEANT!

5 p.m., Memorial Day

Lauren stopped and caught her breath, taking in the scene. Scoops Park, the little town square overlooking the river, was rimmed in blooming tulips. The old Victorian pavilion, elevated on a white wicker platform and decorated in flowers and lights, served as the judges booth, while the parking lot that sat between the pavilion and The Mermaid, a popular waterside restaurant, had been filled with bleachers. In a corner of the park, an ancient weeping willow bent its arms into Scoops River, which swept them forward, giving the branches the appearance of a slow-moving street cleaner. Beyond the willow, a makeshift wooden platform jutted into the river.

Lauren nervously pulled her hair into a loose ponytail and made her way up the steps of the pavilion.

“Am I too late to sign up?” she asked.

A heavy woman with long white hair that had been pulled onto the top of her head, making it look as if she had a honey bun resting on her noggin, looked up and smiled. She was wearing a Tulip Queen sweatshirt and bright red sweatpants.

“You’re a bit late, sweetie,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s one o’clock.”

Lauren began to speak, but no words would come. Only tears.

“There, there. It’s okay. What’s the matter, sweetie?” the woman asked, reaching out to touch Lauren’s arm. “You just need to fill out an application, give us the twenty-five dollar entrance fee, and have family that lives in Scoops.”

Lauren wiped her eyes. “My grandma lives here. And my mom grew up here.”

“Perfect,” she said, pushing a form forward on the table and handing Lauren a pen. “It’s just that a lot of these girls have been working on their gowns and talents for months.”

“Gowns? Talent?”

“It’s a pageant,” the woman said, tapping her nail where Lauren needed to sign. “Miss Tulip is like Miss America. Except…”

The woman lowered her voice into a whisper and looked around suspiciously. “… except, well, some of our girls don’t always look like Miss America.”

Lauren laughed and handed the woman her form. She scanned it before surprising Lauren by shouting, “You’re Lolly Lindsey’s granddaughter? You’re Ar-don’t’s daughter?”

Lauren nodded.

“Well, welcome, sweetie. This is sure gonna give this year’s contest a little added drama now, isn’t it?”

The woman leaned over the table and, for the first time, took a long, hard look at Lauren. “You sure don’t look like your mama.” She stopped and scanned the application again closely, lowering her half-glasses to the tip of her broad nose. “Just wanted to make sure you signed the waiver, sweetie. Just in case, given your family history.”

“I’m very proud of my family history!” Lauren said defensively.

The woman gave Lauren a wink. “I’m just teasing you! Now, you best scoot, so you can go get a gown and work on your talent. See you at five!”

Lauren smiled, and then took off running, down the steps of the pavilion and then down the boardwalk, but not before turning around to take one last look at the platform.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” she shouted at the fudgies, as she retraced her steps all the way back to Dolly’s Sweet Shop. She reached the store just as her grandmother was finishing her one o’clock performance.

“Done shopping already?” Lolly asked, her eyes wide, surprised to see her granddaughter again so soon.

“Oh, Grandma,” Lauren said, running directly into her arms. “I need your help.”

Lolly’s chin was quaking before her granddaughter had barely gotten the words out of her mouth.

“You’re doing all of this for me?” she asked.

Then she stopped, grabbed Lauren’s chin—her charm bracelet rattling—and looked deeply into Lauren’s eyes, seeing her fierce determination.

“Time’s a’ wasting! We have a lot of work to do!”





Forty-seven




“I wonder what this is all about?” Arden said, more to herself than to Jake. “You don’t think? No.”

She looked at her phone again, as Jake drove toward downtown Scoops in his pickup.

Arden reread aloud the text that had finally come through from Lauren as soon as she and Jake had just gotten back to the cabin.

“Meet me at Scoops Park at 5! DON’T BE LATE!”

“What do you think that means? What do you think is going on?”

Jake laughed, a rocky rumble that matched the engine of his truck. “I don’t know, Agatha,” he joked. “Maybe she wants to do a surprise dinner downtown. It is Memorial Day. Why are you making it into such a mystery?”

Arden’s voice rose in surprise. “Because it’s my daughter. You know girls her age. They’re always up to something.”

The truck bumped along the top of the dune road. To one side was the majestic view of Lake Michigan, stretching out to infinity like an ocean, its blue water meeting the blue sky, making it appear as if one huge, heavenly canvas had been stretched across the entire horizon. On the other side sat the river and the town—jammed with vacationers—and beyond Scoops were squares of green and ovals of blue, Mother Nature’s patchwork quilt of farms, lakes, pastures, and vineyards.