Purple Pop's Arc

Chapter 16 of 16

At dawn Purple Pop walked the edge of her garden and saw the truth. The beds had spread far past the barn. A towering lilac bush marked the new outer line, its purple blossoms heavy and wild. Weeds tangled the paths. She could not hide the hive and tend all this alone. She worked fast. She planted a grape arbor right against the barn wall, training the vines until thick leaves and hanging fruit swallowed the narrow window. In front of it she set a wide sweep of lavender and purple blooms, low and full, so the bees could feed without ever leaving cover. From the lane the barn looked like one more flowering corner of her yard. Then she sent her squirrel with a note to Rosalind, and another to the gardener. By afternoon Rosalind stood beside her with sleeves rolled, and the gardener knelt among the beds pulling weeds for a fair weekly trade. Purple Pop sent word to the mayor too, inviting him to taste a jar of honey drops from his old friend's recipe. He came at sundown, ate two, and signed her shop papers on the spot. A week later the sign above the cottage door read open. Children pressed to the window. The mayor's wave from the square sent neighbors streaming in. Caramels, honey pops, lavender drops, berry chews — every visitor left with a smile and sticky fingers. Purple Pop stood in the doorway with her grandmother's lollipop in her left hand and watched the line stretch down the gumdrop path. The parlor was hers. The town was hers. And every smile that walked back out the door was the answer to every door that had once closed.