Chapter 24 #2
“Me too.” I take a lopsided one for myself.
The flavor is sweet, but the champagne cuts the sweetness with a crisp note.
The strawberry is perfectly ripe, and the crunch of the gold sprinkles adds textural interest. I taste the faint floral note, feel the familiar zing down my spine and through my tummy.
We need extra courage to face this daunting letter from the county.
We need extra courage to face most of life right now.
I should have added more sprinkles. We may need every last sprinkle before we’re through with all of this.
“You better go easy on these fancy sprinkles or you’ll run out,” Dot says. “I’d eat them by the handful.”
I glance thoughtfully at the little glass cylinder.
It’s the oddest thing, but they don’t seem to run out.
I’ve been using them a lot, and the glass container is always full.
Every time I pour some out, there’s the same amount left.
Maybe when I have my own shop, I can keep using them, putting them in special chocolates for customers who need an extra dose of courage.
Thinking about my chocolate shop reminds me of something.
“Mom, we need to decide what flooring we want Walt to order for the shop. He needs to know today so he can order it in time to be ready when they have the new subfloor installed.” I start transferring cooled truffles to a Tupperware container.
“Do we want carpet again, or that vinyl plank flooring might be a nice change?” I’m personally voting for vinyl. I’m not a fan of the carpet.
I look up to see Mom and Dot sharing a long glance. Mom is twisting one of her pearl stud earrings nervously.
“Emmie, I was thinking of something a little different for the floors,” she says softly.
“Oh, what do you have in mind?”
Mom glances at Dot again, who nods encouragingly. “It’s time, Gwen,” Dot says softly.
Time for what? I look from one to the other, feeling like I’m missing something.
“I was thinking of putting in really nice wood floors, dark wood,” Mom says.
My heart sinks and I hesitate a long moment. “We could do that,” I say at last, “but those are expensive.”
How will I ever afford to rent my own shop if we spend a lot of money for wood floors? And yet it’s her money. I can’t tell her no. “I mean, if that’s what you really want…” I try to mask my reluctance.
“No,” Mom says, and her eyes are sparkling like she has a secret. “It’s what you want.”
I’m confused. “I want dark wood floors in my chocolate shop, Mom,” I clarify gently, wondering if somehow she’s misunderstood.
“Exactly,” she says, looking almost smug.
I glance at Dot, at a loss. Dot rolls her eyes. “Just tell her, Gwen,” she says. “The poor thing is completely confused.”
Mom takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. It’s time.”
I’m officially lost in this conversation.
“Emmie.” Mom reaches across the marble slab and takes my hand.
Her fingers are fragile and warm against the smooth, cool marble.
“I’ve been thinking about your chocolate shop, and how you’re having trouble finding a suitable space anywhere.
I’m so glad you decided you were open to finding a place here in Poulsbo.
I know how few properties there are to choose from, but I think I’ve found the perfect place for you. ”
“Really?” I’m surprised. “Where?”
She takes a deep breath. “Here.”
“Here?” I’m so confused. “In Poulsbo?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Dot interrupts. “Just tell her!”
“Emmie, I want to give you the shop,” Mom announces.
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 than picking 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 have news, 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.