I stare at her blankly. “Give me the shop?”
Mom nods. “I want to give you the Happy Viking so you can turn it into your chocolate shop.”
“What?” I just stare at her, sure I’ve misheard.
“I’ve been thinking about it since you said you wanted to open your own shop. That way you don’t have to pay rent and you can afford to renovate it into the storefront you’ve always dreamed of having,” Mom explains.
“But…but what about the Happy Viking?” I sputter. “What would we do with the store?”
Mom glances over her shoulder toward the storefront. A brief look of wistfulness flashes across her face. “Emmie, your father and I had such a good life together. We lived my dream for forty years. But everything comes to an end. No vision lasts forever. And I think it’s time. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, wondering if it was time to close the shop for good. It’s been such a struggle. I appreciate that you’ve tried to shield me from how bad things have gotten, but I know it hasn’t been good for a long time. I just couldn’t bring myself to shut it down, for the dream to be over.” Her mouth turns down at the corners.
“After we lost your dad, I knew it was just a matter of time until I needed to move on.” She holds up her gnarled hands. “I can’t make fudge any longer. And I know it’s not your passion in life. Truthfully, Emmie, I think the dream ended a while ago. I just wasn’t ready to let go. But now that you have your vision for your future, it feels like the right time. It’s right for me to step back and help you achieve your vision. It’s what all the women in our family do. When our vision has run its course, it’s our joy and our responsibility to help those who come after us. I couldn’t be more excited for you. I had many good years living out my vision. It’s been a sweet, sweet life with your father and this store. Now it’s your turn, my girl. It’s your time, and I will do all I can to help you shine.”
It’s such a tender speech. Her eyes are shimmering with tears,and so are mine. Dot puts her arm around Mom’s thin shoulders and shoots me a sympathetic smile. “So what do you say, kid?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, touched by Mom’s generosity. My mind is whirring. I can’t imagine a world without the Happy Viking in it. This place has always felt more like home than the house where I was raised. And yet…I think of the tired shelving, the worn carpet, the mounting bills. As Mom said, it’s only a matter of time until we have to shut it down. But I hadn’t ever considered an option where we transform it from a fading candy store to the chocolate shop from my vision. Would it even work?
I try to picture the space with a makeover—dark wood floors, big windows, gleaming glass display cases. I actually find I can visualize it surprisingly easily. New floors, paint, a bold accent door color, new fixtures…And since we own the shop, there would be no rent. It would ease the financial pressure we’re facing and lower the risk of overextending ourselves by trying to keep two shops solvent. It actually makes a lot of sense. I’d never thought of it because it had not occurred to me that it was even an option. But now…
“Emmie?” Mom presses my hand gently. I don’t know how long I’ve been lost in thought while Dot and Mom patiently waited for me to come back to reality. “What do you think?” Mom asks encouragingly.
I glance from Mom to Dot. It would mean staying in Poulsbo. Do I want to commit to that? I think of Paris and LA and London. And then I think of Jakob’s words, of the community my family has built here, that I’ve built here over the years. I think of all the people who showed up to help us pack the store. This is our circle, our safety net, ready to catch us when we stumble. If I open my store here, they will be the ones cheering me on,choosing to support me, to buy my local chocolates for birthdays and anniversaries. Somehow the thought of staying in Poulsbo doesn’t feel like a straitjacket anymore. I’m surprised to find it feels like a warm embrace.
I think about my vision, standing in my own chocolate shop with sunlight pouring in the windows. I think about all the memories this family storefront holds—me toddling between the racks, Dad standing right where I am now as he showed a first-grade me how to make my first batch of fudge. Me wedged beneath the counter, licking a lollipop after school and reading an American Girl book. So many memories, so much of Dad, so much of our family’s history in this place. What would it mean to start a new chapter, make new memories in this same space, to transform it for a new vision, for the next generation?
I taste the faint hint of the gold sprinkles on my tongue from the strawberry champagne truffle, feel that familiar zip of energy and optimism race down my spine.Be bold, I tell myself.Have the courage to go after what your heart desires.I want this, I admit silently. I want to keep our family shop but transform it into my shop from my vision.
“Yes,” I whisper, then clear my throat. “Yes.” Louder this time. After all my panic and worry over not finding the right storefront, I realize I’ve been standing in it all along. Life is funny that way sometimes, I guess. What you really want is often right in front of you. It’s been here all along, I just couldn’t see it until now.
“Oh, honey,” Mom says, squeezing my hand and blinking back tears. Her eyes are happy and sad at the same time. This must be so bittersweet for her, I realize. This is the end of her dream but the beginning of something new. What will her life look like now that she is stepping back? I want more for her thanpicking out dog costumes and accessories for Mr. Butters. I want her to thrive in the afterglow of her vision, but I don’t quite know how that would look. I squeeze her hand gently, trying to convey that I understand how hard this must be for her. Yet I know she’s proud of me, and excited for me too.
“Let’s go tell Walt and pick out your new floor,” she says.
I send a quick text to Dani telling her to call me ASAP because I havenews, then I follow Mom into the storefront. Looking around, I can already see it transformed in my mind’s eye.This is right, this is right, my heart whispers, and I whisper back, “I know.” I can envision it all as I turn in a slow circle, imagining my dream chocolate shop in this space. Now with Mom’s generosity and the help of our community, I can finally turn my vision into reality.
Chapter 25
“Okay, folks, listen up!” Sebastian stands on a diner chair and uses his stage voice to get everyone’s attention. Before he opened Seasonings he was an opera singer in Seattle, so he has a resonant baritone. He clinks a fork against a water glass for added emphasis. He waits as the hubbub in the Green Light Diner hushes. “We all know why we’re gathered here. Everyone got the same letter from the county. We’re going to explore our options and pool ideas to help each other. So without further ado, Emmie?”
I stand in the center of the diner, surrounded by tables full of concerned faces. There are no other customers yet. The owner of the diner opened an hour early this morning so we could gather here. It looks like more than half of the downtown small-business owners in Poulsbo have turned out for this emergency meeting to discuss the letter from the county and brainstorm a plan. We’re all crowded around laminated tables in the iconic retro diner, drinking coffee and discussing the situation.
I see Hilda and Dot sitting with Mom at one table. It’s before school, so Gus is sitting there too, next to Mom, coloring a rocket ship exploding. Mr. Butters, who I am sure is not supposed to be inside the diner, sits next to Mom’s chair, wearing a tiny black bowler hat that makes him look like a prosperous English banker from a bygone era. Mary Beth and Paula from the boutique are sitting together at a table for two. Paula waves to me. I give her a nod and a smile. Next to them I spy Jakob’s dad Gunnar, and my heart gives a little skip, but then I see that Jakob is not with him. My sense of disappointment takes me by surprise. Gunnar sits by himself, looking grumpy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man smile, and he seldom speaks. But his sourdough is unparalleled.
“Good morning, everyone.” I clear my throat and try to speak loudly. “We know this letter is a concern to many of us. Most of us aren’t flush with money, and the costs for the changes the county is demanding look like they’re going to be high. I contacted a few contractors as soon as we got our letter, and two have given me a bid so far.” I nod to Dot, who passes out copies of the bids to everyone.
“Of course, every building is going to be different, but this may give you an idea of the kinds of work that will be needed and the approximate costs.”
There is a moment of silence as all heads bow over the papers, reading the figures. Then the outcry starts.
“This is going to bankrupt me!” the owner of one of the gift shops protests, waving the paper in the air. “Thirty to forty thousand dollars for the work?”
“Could be less, but it could be more,” Dot pipes up. “I know it’s a kicker. Most of us don’t have that much spare cash lying around, but we thought it was better that we get an idea of what we’re facing now, as soon as we can. That way we can share ideas,pool resources, and figure out how to get through this together. Emmie’s got a list of local contractors you can contact to get bids.”
The room devolves into a dozen high-pitched conversations as people discuss with their tablemates. Things are reaching a fever pitch quickly as panic and indignation set in.
“An equity loan may work for some of us,” Mary Beth offers loudly. “I’d talk to Pat down at the credit union and see what they can offer.”
I sit at the table with Mom and Gus and write down the ideas. I’ll compile a list and make copies for everyone in attendance.
