Free Ship of Dolls by Shirley Parenteau Page A

marshmallow sauce. Mounds of whipped cream rose on top, with a juicy red maraschino cherry at the very peak. Crunchy cookies poked like wings from each side.
    The waitress beamed. “Enjoy it, honey.”
    Lexie carefully lifted the cherry with her spoon and put it into her mouth. It tasted as good as it looked. She decided to eat her sundae slowly, so it would last as long as possible. Secretly she hoped somebody from school would come by and see her there with Grandpa and the ice-​cream sundaes.
    “Next time,” Grandpa said, raising his spoon, “we’ll invite Jack from next door. You might like someone of your own age to talk to.”
    “I like talking to you.” Lexie hesitated, then added, “Besides, Jack hates me.”
    Grandpa lowered his spoon. “Hates you? Since when?”
    Since I kissed him and he got teased and got into a fight and blames me
, Lexie thought, but said only, “He just does.”
    “I doubt that.” Grandpa turned his attention to his ice cream.
    Lexie churned her chocolate into slush, frowning at her spoon. “He won’t talk to me. He calls me a dumb Dora and knocks into me when he passes in the hall. Or pretends I’m not there.”
    Grandpa let a spoonful of ice cream melt in his mouth for a moment. Finally he said, “Boys have trouble figuring out how to treat girls they like. I expect he’s just sweet on you.”
    Lexie shook her head. Grandpa hadn’t seen the way Jack turned away when she spoke to him or how he made sure they didn’t walk together anymore.
    “Well,” Grandpa said after another long moment, “tell me this. How’s that doll’s letter coming along?”
    All her hopes for the letter rushed into her mind. She felt she knew Emily Grace much better now. Losing the dress hurt like a wound that wouldn’t heal. That made the letter even more important. No one had said anything more about the winner of the contest going to San Francisco. Maybe it was a secret. Louise had said so. Maybe it wasn’t even true. Lexie pushed that thought away.
    She was glad that Grandpa hadn’t mentioned the burned dress. She wasn’t sure she could talk about it. Grandpa must feel the same way. Would he talk about the letter from Mama?
    She scooped up some marshmallow cream while she thought about asking more questions, but she didn’t want to spoil this day. She let her questions go for now and answered Grandpa’s. “I wrote a Japanese poem. It’s called a haiku. I’m thinking of putting it in the doll’s letter.”
    “Sounds like a bang-​up idea.”
    Lexie thought of the snappy flapper words Mama loved to use. For a moment, the familiar ache caught her. That letter from Mama must say she should come for a visit. Or to stay. Still thinking about Mama, she joked about adding her poem to the doll’s letter, “It will be the cat’s meow.”
    Grandpa chuckled. “Or the cat’s whiskers.”
    Grinning, Lexie added, “Or the cat’s kimono!”
    Grandpa laughed and tapped his water glass to hers. “The winner!”
    Still smiling, Lexie dug into her ice cream. It was the best she had ever tasted. Her time with Grandpa flew by. Again, his twinkling eyes reminded her of Papa. He motioned the waitress over and paid the bill, then stood and reached for Lexie’s coat. “On to the surprise!”
    Lexie looked around, wondering if the surprise was another kind of ice cream and thinking she couldn’t eat anything more. Maybe Mama was here! She knew that wasn’t likely. Still, hope soared higher as she looked past Grandpa.
    He opened the door with a flourish, snapped his hat over his head, and waved her onto the rainy wood sidewalk. “You’re going to meet one of my favorite customers from the bank. I talked to her this morning, and she’s expecting us. She goes by the name Mam’selle Maxine in her shop, but she’s really just Maxine Fields from over on the coast, where her father’s a logger.”
    Lexie raised her collar against the rain. “Why is she called Mam’selle? Isn’t that