literature

Lucy's Lemonade Stand

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TwistedHarbinger's avatar
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Literature Text

"Step right up and get yourself a tasty glass of Lemonade! One one quarter a cup!"

My daughter, Lucy.

"Come on down for great savings!"

She has a thing for commercials, especially those advertising cars.

"Goes down smooth, one drop and you can't stop!"

And alcohol.

"Homemade!"

The dog and I sit quietly on the porch, watching the prospective customers come and go. Poor Lucy. Every hour I make sure to grab a cup myself, and I leave a tip. She tells me it doesn't count since it's still in the family. She's a smart little girl.

My family had owned this porch, this house for generations. Every summer, the youngest member would sell Lemonade on a hot day. However, it was over ninety degrees. People didn't come out when it was over ninety degrees. Especially at high noon, when there were no clouds at all, and the only thing that awaited them was a small cup of lemonade.

"Please? You'll really like it!" She begged a passing car, windows open and AC blasting.

It was sort of heart-breaking. Being the last of the family, she and I, we held onto the memories of its lineage as long as we could. But sadly there were no male heirs to carry on the name. Not anymore anyway. Not that it mattered. She loved the family stories, and the house had become something of a castle to her. I remember feeling the very same way.

As the day wore on I kept traveling back and forth to her stand. Applying more sunscreen, offering words of encouragement, buying a cup of Lemonade. Of course my adult duties kept me on the move as well, there was the house to manage, a showing tonight that I wasn't totally prepared for.

Lucy had several customers, but not enough, and she knew it. Flushed and defeated, she started cleaning up the stand, packing up the cups and dumping out the extra ice. I helped her carry the stand to the garage, and she asked me the question I knew was coming, holding up a jar of quarters.

"Is this enough to keep the house mommy?" I bit my lip.

"No baby, we still have to move." It devistated her. She sniffed and wiped away angry tears before running into the house. I sighed and held back my own tears, I still had to collect the lemonade itself.

At the end of the drive there was an older man. He was sitting in the grass, and to my suprise, drinking a cup of lemonade. I approached him carefully, there was no telling what such a fearless person could do.

"I couldn't help but notice some leftover lemonade." He held his cup up to the setting sun, his back to me, I watched him turn toward the For Sale sign in front of our house. "You've lost your home I see." It wasn't a question. We had really, just me and Lucy weren't enough to keep the massive, beautiful place running. We couldn't afford it, no matter how hard we tried.

I would feel guilty for the rest of my life.

"Yes," I replied. "We can't afford it. Lucy- my daughter, she thought a Lemonade Stand would help. You know how kids are." I shifted my weight to the other foot nervously. All grown up and I had a problem with strangers where Lucy didn't. Why did things always seem backwards like that?

"I don't know anything about kids. But I know something about people." He stood up and brushed himself off. I tensed reflexively, but was disarmed by a cheerful smile. His face was weathered with years and years of life, and yet his eyes were such a striking blue that I would swear he was not a day older than me.

"I know that hope and love keep the world going for people. Without them we'd be nowhere." I nodded in agreement.

"Have you lost all hope to save your house?"

"Yes." I sighed.

"Have you stopped loving it then?"

"No, it's not the same thing. My family has owned this house for almost two hundred years. There's no hope for saving it, but I still love it."

"What about your daughter?" He asked, fishing around in his pockets for something. Probably money for the lemonade.

"She loves it too, she still has hope." I shrugged and turned to look at the majestic four floored thing. With massive trees around it, lovely blue paint and the attic my daughter re-named "the tower."

"She thinks its her castle." I added.

"Mm-hmm." He mumbled, withdrawing a piece of paper from his pocket. I instantly assumed an I.O.U.

"Miss, where there's love, there's hope. They go hand in hand you see. Now I don't have much to give you, just this." He handed me a lottery ticket. "I was born lucky you see. I think some of it might rub off on you." He winked and started back down the drive.

"Thanks." I said, stuffing the thing in my pocket. I grabbed the lemonade and went inside to find Lucy watching the news. Her face was pink from crying. I did my best to cheer her up, but she just sat quietly.

"An old man had some of your lemonade." I said helplessly. Lucy turned toward me.

"Did he give us a quarter?"

"No, but-"

"I bet if you sue him we could use the money to keep the house!" Her face brightened momentarily.

"He gave us this instead." I handed her the crumpled lottery ticket.

Lucy took the ticket and went back to watching TV. I went on to prepare dinner, which wasn't coming together the way I had hoped. It was still early, but there was so much to do.

"Hey, mom?" Lucy's voice from the living room.

"Just a minute." I reached up high for the flour.

"Uh, mom? We matched two numbers."

"That's nice baby." You had to match them all to get the grand.

"Mom?"

"Not now baby."

"Mom, mom come here!"

"Just a sec." I stood on a stool and wiped the cobwebs from the corners, just in time to watch the pasta boil over. Dammit.

"MOM! LOOK!" She shouted at me. I toppled off the stool and crashed to the floor, sore but unharmed.

"Sweetie," I said exasperated. "It's just the news." I turned off the pasta.

"What happens when all the numbers match?"

What?

"What do you mean?" I said, running into the living room.

"All the numbers match, see?" She handed me the ticket and I looked back and forth from the screen to my hand. It just wasn't possible. This sort of thing never happened.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Lucy asked with concern. She held me close and buried her small face into my blouse. "Are you sad about the house?"

"Not anymore." I whispered.

We had just won the grand prize.
Yeah, for the Quill-Cafe's promt: A For Sale Sign.



~Twisted
© 2010 - 2024 TwistedHarbinger
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sarboom's avatar
the story is quite uplifting :) i mean at least the ending and the little girl's dialogues are kinda cute . Nice story :D