“Good enough to eat.” Eve grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.
My business idea had blossomed in the two months since I’d first decided to make Lolly’s Pops a reality. I’d purchased an old ice cream truck from a woman in Portland and repurposed it for popsicles. I’d had the truck repainted, white and mint green, a nod to the Eatery, and set up the inside with two small chest freezers. The sign on the outside read:Lolly’s Pops—Unique, Organic, Botanical.Eve hadhelped me get the permits and do the paperwork. I’d sunk all the money I had into the venture, plus $5,000 of our profits from the sale of the Eatery. Dad had insisted on being a silent partner, and truthfully, his support meant a lot financially and emotionally.
I was still living at Eve’s during the weekdays and staying with Dad on weekends, though thankfully Dad was doing so well in his recovery that he needed little help anymore. It was probably more for my peace of mind than his that I continued to visit every weekend. He still insisted he needed Ramona to come every weekday, though. They spent a lot of time taking slow walks and playing gin rummy. Seeing their friendship deepen was immensely satisfying and a little bittersweet at the same time. Mostly sweet, though.
“You feeling ready to go?” Eve asked.
I took a deep breath and nodded. I’d spent all of last week handcrafting batches of popsicles for my grand opening. Today was the day. I’d been nervous that no one would give my little truck a second glance, even though it was adorable with its cute vintage vibe and hand-lettered signs. But luckily summer had obliged me by giving the Pacific Northwest a streak of over-ninety-degree weather, almost unheard of in Seattle. Local news issued heat advisory warnings for the elderly and pets. Stores sold out of fans, sun hats, and sunscreen. Drivers were overcome with heat rage and honked and cursed in rush hour. And I was opening my popsicle stand on the hottest day of the year. I took it as a favorable sign.
The farmers market was due to begin any minute, and I was a bundle of nerves. If today went well, I’d spend the rest of the summer and early fall trailing Eve around the farmers market circuit in Seattle, setting up shop in the neighborhoods of the city, each with its own distinct flavor and vibe—Wednesdays in Wallingford, Thursdays in Queen Anne, Fridays in Phinney Ridge, Saturdays in my old stompingground of Magnolia, and Sundays at the big Ballard Farmers Market. And if Lolly’s Pops was a hit, I had even grander plans in mind.
“Opening time,” Eve called. She gave me a big grin. “I’ll be your first customer. One of the usual, please.” She pulled a wad of bills out of the pocket of her overalls and held out a five-dollar bill.
I took a popsicle out of one of the freezers. It was her favorite— sugared violets, mint, and lime zest. The flowers were frozen in the translucent green popsicle, their gorgeous deep purple petals suspended amid tiny flecks of lime zest and a few sprigs of mint.
“The first popsicle is complimentary for my landlady and best friend.” I handed her the popsicle and waved away the cash, pulling out a compact mirror to check that my red lipstick was not melting off my lips. I smoothed the skirt of my mint-green-and-white-checked sundress that I’d bought specifically to complement the Lolly’s Pops color scheme. I’d even splashed out on a new pair of glasses to coordinate with the dress, darling white-rimmed frames that made me feel a little like a young Brigitte Bardot.
Eve sucked her popsicle happily, eyes closed. “Mmmm. I predict you’re going to sell out today. Good luck! I’ll check in with you later.” She gave me a jaunty two-finger salute and then sauntered off, back to her tent, a block down on the other side of the street.
I leaned out and adjusted thegrand openingbanner again, printed in the candy-bright letters I’d mimicked from thegrand openingsign I’d seen in my house with Rory. I wasn’t trying to re-create something that was clearly gone. I was just taking the inspiration where I found it and making it my own.
Eve’s words were prophetic. As soon as the farmers market opened, I had a steady stream of customers. I counted change and doled out popsicles, handed out recycled-paper napkins and chatted with friends and neighbors, eyeing the growing line snaking away from my truckwith a mixture of glee and nerves. It was working. It was actually working. Lolly’s Pops was open and doing well.
An hour and a half later I was just handing a customer their popsicles when I heard a familiar voice.
“Lolly? Is that you?” Standing next in line, wearing a look of pure astonishment, was Nancy Shaw. She approached the window.
“Nancy.” I stood up straighter, wishing I had a moment to smooth my hair and refresh my lipstick. Nothing like unexpectedly seeing your almost-mother-in-law while sweating in ninety-degree heat.
“Oh my goodness, is this your business? I saw the name, but I just thought it was a pun onlollipops.” She peered at the menu.
“This is my business.” I smiled, feeling a touch awkward. “Handmade bespoke popsicles using local ingredients. I grow all the flowers myself.”
The Shaws had relocated from our street to a beautiful condo on Lake Washington a couple of years after Mom passed away, and I hadn’t seen Nancy since they moved. Truthfully, I’d been grateful. When I cut myself off from Rory, it hurt too much to see his mother.
“Well, it’s a very charming idea, and you look wonderful.” She looked me up and down.
“As do you,” I told her truthfully. Nancy had always been an attractive woman, and she was aging well, silvery-streaked brunette hair perfectly styled. Rory had her forehead and chin.
“You know, Rory’s back in town right now,” she said, looking as proud as if she’d announced that Gandhi himself had taken up residence in Seattle.
“Rory’s in Seattle?” I stumbled over the words, caught off guard, darting a glance around as if he might appear suddenly. I definitely needed a warning if I was going to see him again. The very notion made me feel flushed and queasy.
“Oh yes.” She nodded vigorously. “They’re living near us inMadison Park, renting a lovely little cottage just a few blocks away. We’re loving having them so close now, especially after... Well, it’s been a difficult year for them.” She pressed her lips together and looked grave.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. There was a line forming behind her, people beginning to fidget and grumble in the heat. I needed to end this conversation and soon. I had customers to serve, and I didn’t want to hear another word about Rory’s perfect family or wife or life or the charming cottage they were living in together. And I could not, couldnotsee him. It would break me.
“Nancy, please enjoy a Lolly’s Pop on the house.” I reached back and grabbed the first popsicle I found in the freezer. Lime and begonia blossoms with a touch of elderflower simple syrup. I held it out to her. “It’s so good to see you.” I looked past her at the line of customers.
She glanced backward. “Oh, I see you’re very popular today.” She took the hint and the popsicle. “Thank you, dear. Take care, Lolly. So good to see you.”
As she turned and walked away I sighed with relief. I wanted as much distance as possible between myself and Nancy Shaw.
“So Rory’s back in town.” Eve propped her Doc Martens up on a stump and leaned back in her Adirondack chair with a sigh. It was the evening of the grand opening. We’d just finished a celebratory dinner, a light grilled salmon salad with baby greens and pansies from my garden, eaten al fresco at the old red-painted picnic table I’d dragged over, and a bottle of champagne.
“That’s what she said.” I handed Eve her dessert, a new organic popsicle flavor I’d created, this one dandelion buds and lemonade. Since deciding to open Lolly’s Pops I’d been experimenting with the flowers and herbs from my garden, mixing them with local fruit from the farmers markets to create bespoke flavor combinations. There hadbeen a few failures. Too late I learned that some people have a strong allergic reaction to tulip petals. Just touching that popsicle to her tongue made Eve’s mouth go numb. But recently I’d been crafting some truly surprising and yummy combinations—elderflower limeade with clover blossoms, coconut water with rose syrup and candied rose petals, a strawberry-basil concoction sprinkled with marigold petals. I loved dreaming up unique combinations and then creating them. A few ingredients and a wooden stick. It was simple, local, and environmentally friendly. Not to mention delicious. I’d had a full roster of yummy flavors for the opening of Lolly’s Pops earlier that day, but I was still experimenting with new flavors.
“In theory this one’s good”—Eve grimaced—“but it needs more simple syrup. It’s puckering the inside of my mouth. Whew.”
