Eve nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds intriguing. I’ve never seenanything like them. You should make some for the farmers market. You could sell them at my stand. I bet they’d sell well.”
I paused, turning my Mason jar in my hands. “Actually, I think I might want to do more than that.”
“Really?” Eve gave me her full attention. “What are you thinking?”
“What if I made Lolly’s Pops real?”
Eve cocked her head. “Real how?”
“I mean what if I took the concept I already had in Florida and actually start the business here for real?” I was warming to the topic. “I’ve been reading that edible-flower gardening book of my great-grandmother’s that Aunt Gert gave me for my birthday. It’s giving me lots of inspiration. I love growing edible flowers and herbs, and I could partner with local farmers to supply the fruit. It encourages people to eat local food, and I could have eco-friendly packaging. What do you think?” I’d been mulling the idea over for the past few days but was just now voicing it aloud for the first time.
Eve tapped her finger on her lips, considering. “I think that could really work,” she said.
I nodded eagerly. “I think so too.” It already had a great name and a unique and appealing concept. Eve could help me figure out how to get the business license and paperwork done and get space at the farmers market. She’d had to do it all for Gritty Girl Soap Co. This could actually happen, I realized with a dart of excitement.
“You’ve always said you wanted to use food to help connect people and bring them joy,” Eve said slowly.
“And what’s happier than a popsicle?” I agreed. I pictured a cute little food truck, brightly painted, me in red lipstick, handing popsicles out the sliding side window to small, perfectly pressed children in pinafores. It was an appealing image. It made me smile just thinking about it.
“I love the concept, but is this something you really want to do?” Eve said. “You just got out from under the Eatery. Do you want to startanother business so soon? Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great concept, and I think you could make it successful. I just want you to be positive it’s what you really want to do.”
It was a fair question. I considered it for a moment. The idea of opening Lolly’s Pops was enticing, but was it something I wanted to do day in and day out? I’d made myself a promise that I’d try to pursue only what gave me joy from here on out. Would opening Lolly’s Pops bring me joy? Was it following my bliss?
I closed my eyes and thought about it for a minute. There was something that felt so enticing about the idea. I’d lost Rory and the girls, but I could still take something good from that life. It felt redemptive somehow. It just felt... right. I opened my eyes, took a deep breath, and went with my gut.
“Yes. I want to open Lolly’s Pops for real.” I tested the words as I said them. They felt good, not scary. Well, a little bit scary, but a good kind of scary. “Botanical popsicles are the new Toast.”
“Okay then, to Lolly’s Pops!” Eve raised her Mason jar, and we clinked in celebration. I felt giddy and a little nervous but also happier than I’d felt since I lost the last lemon drop. When I thought of that popsicle truck, of starting Lolly’s Pops for real, I felt a flicker of hope and excitement. And that was a great place to start.
“First things first, I want to rescue your garden,” I announced to Eve as we munched sandwiches for lunch later that day.
I’d been eyeing the neglected patch of ground outside Eve’s guest room window for the past week. It looked like it had been a good-size garden at some point before Eve bought the place. Well located on the sunny side of the property and not too overgrown.
“Can I bring it back to life and use it to grow the botanicals for Lolly’s Pops?”
“Be my guest.” Eve crunched a pickle and waved her hand in the general direction of the garden. “Garden away.”
The next morning I took the ferry into Seattle and headed directly for Swansons Nursery, a Seattle institution for gardening since 1924. Grabbing a flatbed cart, I wheeled through the aisles, feeling a little like a kid in a candy store. Persian mint. Cilantro. Tuscan blue rosemary. Lemon thyme. Thai basil. They all went into my cart. In the section with edible flowers I stopped short, a bright yellow-and-purple pansy in my hands, hearing my mother’s voice from long ago.
Pansies are the showgirls of the flower world, but they taste a little grassy, she’d confided to me once as we pulled weeds in her herb and flower garden. I put a dozen pansies in my cart and moved on to carnations.Carnations are the candy of the flower world, but only the petals. The white base is bitter, she’d instructed, handing me one to try. In my young mind carnations had been in the same category as jelly beans and gumdrops. Treats to enjoy.
“Impatiens.” I browsed the aisles of Swansons, reading signs aloud. “Marigolds.”
Marigolds taste a little like citrus, and you can substitute them for saffron. My mother’s face swam before my eyes, imparting her kitchen wisdom to little Lolly.It’s a poor woman’s saffron. Also insects hate them; they’re a natural bug deterrent.
I placed a dozen yellow-and-orange marigolds into my cart along with a couple different varieties of lavender and some particularly gorgeous begonias I couldn’t resist. I had a sudden flash of memory: my mother’s hand in her floral gardening glove plucking a tuberous begonia blossom and popping it in her mouth before offering me one. I was four or five years old. It tasted crunchy and sour, a little like a lemon Sour Patch Kid. I liked the flavor and sneaked a begonia flower every time I was in the garden for the rest of the summer.
I smiled at the memory. I’d loved those times in the garden with mymom. They were my favorite few hours of the week. Monday, our day off, I would get my little hands dirty alongside my mom, listening to her share tidbits about soil acidity and what each type of flower needed to be happy. It felt like a miracle to grow something we could eat, especially something as lovely as a flower. It was pure magic. I still missed those hours all these years later. How I wished I could turn back the clock and sit in the dirt with my mom again. How I wished she were here to see me starting this new venture. I was taking life’s lemons and turning them into a lemonade popsicle. I knew she would be so proud.
At the end of the morning I loaded Florence with a several hundred dollars’ worth of herbs and edible flowers and drove out of Swansons with my bank account and my heart both significantly lighter.
“I’m really doing this!” I told Eve excitedly as I pulled into line at the ferry dock to return to Vashon, calling her to let her know I was on my way home. “I bought the whole nursery. Be home in an hour.” I glanced in the rearview mirror at the riot of blooms and stems filling the back seat and trunk space. The whole car was a cacophony of delicious floral and herby smells all jumbled together. I inhaled deeply, breathing in a feeling of anticipation, breathing out a sigh of contentment. In the plan to make Lolly’s Pops a reality, step one was complete.
44
“Smart of youto have your grand opening in the middle of a heat wave.” Eve stood back from my truck window, squinting in the blazing sun of midsummer. Today was the day. Two months after my trip to Swansons Nursery, Lolly’s Pops was finally ready to open to the public. I was set up in the middle of the Magnolia Farmers Market, in a choice spot where anyone walking through the market would see me. It felt good to be back in the happy bustle of downtown Magnolia again. I’d missed it.
“How does it look?” I leaned out the sliding-glass window and adjusted the brightly coloredgrand openingbanner that hung below the little Formica service counter under the window.
