“That was my mother’s book. It belonged to your great-grandmother,” Aunt Gert explained. “She loved to have a little edible-flower garden too, right outside the kitchen door when we were growing up. She made the best lemon cake at Eastertime, covered in whipped cream and edible spring flowers. Now it’s time to pass the book along to you. I have a feeling it will come in handy for you soon.”
“I love it.” I was touched. I had no other keepsakes from my great-grandmother.
Aunt Gert pursed her lips. “You may not see it now, Lolly, but one day you will be able to look back and catch a glimpse of the silver lining in every difficulty. Keep your chin up and keep moving forward.”
I nodded. “I’m trying as best I can.”
She arched a brow at me. “I know you were disappointed to lose thelast lemon drop, Lolly, but take it from me, you can still build a wonderful life without the help of those lemon drops. My own life is a testament to that.”
I gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean? Didn’t you use a lemon drop to choose the life you wanted to live?”
Aunt Gert looked astonished. “My dear girl. You think I’ve lived the life I have because of a lemon drop?”
“Didn’t you take a lemon drop and choose to stay in a different life?” I was getting confused. “I thought you said that you got to see the lives you could have, and you chose one that got you out of rural Ohio, out of the life you didn’t want.”
Aunt Gert shook her head. “Oh, Lolly. You misunderstood me. I did use the lemon drops. And they showed me the lives I could have had. But I didn’t choose any of them. Instead I chose to make my own way in the world, full steam ahead, under my own power, nothing more.”
“Really?” I stared at her, mind whirring, thinking of the vibrant, exciting life she’d had—international travel, academia, New York City. Shanghai. Moscow. Rio. “You didn’t use a lemon drop and go back permanently? But the life you’ve led...” I trailed away in surprise.
“Was entirely of my own making.” Aunt Gert nodded. “It wasn’t easy. I succeeded because of my own stubborn courage and hard work. I made my own way in the world, and I have never regretted my choices.”
“But how did you manage to do everything you’ve done?” I leaned back against the prep table, still trying to comprehend this unexpected twist.
Aunt Gert gazed past my shoulder, a faraway look in her eyes. “I followed my bliss,” she said simply. “Mind you, it often wasn’t easy. I left home on my twentieth birthday, took a bus to New York City. I was young and poor, working dead-end jobs while trying to get into college, living in a fifth-floor walk-up in Queens with four other girls and working in a greasy spoon diner. For several years I was pinched andthreadbare and lonely. I was ostracized from my family for much longer than that. But I didn’t give up. I followed every little glimmer of light, every little spark of joy, and eventually, through a lot of perseverance and hard work and frankly luck, I got a full ride to Columbia.” She shrugged. “The rest is history. But it is a history I made with my own grit and determination and more than a few tears.”
I stared at her in shock. In the background the coffee was percolating, a happy bubbling sound. From the dining room I could hear raucous laughter and a George Jones song on the jukebox.
“You did it all on your own,” I clarified.
“Yes.” Aunt Gert nodded firmly. “And I’ve never regretted it, not for a second.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I looked down at my feet in their bright red leather Mary Janes. I felt even more in awe of my aunt.
Aunt Gert reached out and gripped my hand, her fingers strong and leathery against mine. I glanced up, surprised, and met her eyes.
“Take it from me, Lolly,” she said, her tone surprisingly soft. “There are better things that lie ahead for you. You’re a smart girl, a hard worker with a good head on your shoulders and a kind heart. You’ve got grit, and that will serve you well wherever you go. Follow your bliss, every glimmer of light, and it will guide you on your true path.”
The coffee makers beeped and the moment was broken. She dropped her hand. “And now back into the fray,” she announced. She grabbed the two coffeepots and went through the swinging doors. After a moment I followed her, slipping the little old book into my pocket, head spinning with all I’d just learned.
42
“Great party.” Eve sidled upto me in the packed, raucous dining room and leaned back with her elbows against the counter. She had to yell in my direction to be heard. She bumped my shoulder with her own in solidarity and twisted the top off her bottle of ginger ale.
I nodded and surveyed the crowd. It was a strangely freeing feeling, this goodbye party. We were closing the Eatery. The world hadn’t stopped turning.
“What are you going to do now that this place is officially closed?” Eve asked loudly.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. I was still trying to comprehend what Aunt Gert had just told me. She had not taken a lemon drop. She had made her own way. I knew it was important somehow. If she could do it, surely I could too...
“You should come live with me. Get away from the city for a while. Take a break till you figure out what comes next.” Eve tipped her head back and took a long pull of her ginger ale. “You can make some soap. Milk goats. Roam the woods.”
I leaned in closer to her to be heard. “That sounds tempting, but what about Dad?” I nodded to him across the room. Ramona was leaning toward him, laughing at something he said. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.
Eve observed them for a moment. “He looks like he’s doing just fine to me.” I’d told her about my secret plan to bring Dad and Ramona together. So far it was going in a good direction. Ramona was having a remarkably positive effect on him. She was tough and pushed him to expand his comfort zone daily. They took walks, rain or shine, at a snail’s pace that was excruciating to watch, but I was proud of him. He was determined to get better as quickly as possible. When he grew frustrated by the limitations of his own body, Ramona normalized it and then urged him to keep trying. They made a good pair.
“If Dad’s recovered enough, I could come once I’ve got all the details of closing this place ironed out.” We had accepted a good offer on the building, but it would take a few more weeks at least to finalize the sale, and by that point Dad might be self-sufficient enough for me to leave him for a bit. The idea of being at the farm on Vashon for part of the late spring and summer was appealing.
I took a drink of the black cherry soda, enjoying the sharp fizz of the bubbles and the syrupy cherry flavor coating my tongue. Daphne was weaving her way toward us through the crowd, clutching a little cardboard box protectively.
