On the exact date of November 20, 2010, at the exact time of 11 a.m., a young girl with two pink ribbons in her hair knocked three times on the door of the biggest house in her town. It was the kind of estate that looked like it should exist in a movie, for the grass in the yard was too green, the paint on the house too white, the expensive car perched in the driveway shining bright with freshly applied polish. The door was over twice the girl’s size, unsurprisingly, as the rest of the house towered above her as well.
The girl could barely contain her excitement as she mentally rehearsed her speech one last time. Waiting for someone to come to the door, her heart fluttered and she sighed, testing to see if she could see her breath in the winter air. After an excruciating moment had passed, she decided to ring the doorbell as well, and immediately she heard the sound of the bell reverberating across the cavernous rooms inside.
When there was still no answer, she rang the doorbell again, and then again, and then again. Finally, the door opened and there appeared a woman. She was elderly, maybe in her seventies or eighties the girl guessed, with a frown etched upon on her face and gray hair that stuck up as if she had rubbed a balloon against it. The woman’s hunched frame barely reached above the height of the ten-year-old girl standing in front of her.
“What do you want?” croaked the old woman.
“Hello, ma’am. My name is Molly and I -”
“No,” the woman interrupted, “whatever this is about, whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it.”
Molly was stunned. In her three years of selling Girl Scout cookies in the neighborhood, she had never received a “No” from an anyone. In fact, she had earned a badge last year for selling the most boxes of cookies in her Girl Scout troupe - one her proudest accomplishments in all her ten years of life.
Molly pushed her blond hair away from her face, trying to hide any sign of frustration. “But -”
“I told you, I don’t want to buy anything. Now leave before I call the police.” It was at this time that Molly noticed that the old woman’s right hand was tightly gripping a phone.
“You can’t call the police on me. My father is in charge of the police of this town,” Molly lied, “and he told me that it was legal to come sell these.”
“Well, you’re on my property right now, so this is trespassing.”
Molly quietly pondered the woman’s statement for a moment. Then, with a smirk, she turned around and walked down the front porch steps, down the driveway, and to the sidewalk, where she abruptly stopped. “This sidewalk is public property. So it’s not trespassing. And I can stay here as long as I want.”
The old woman opened her mouth as if about to say something, and then, seemingly speechless, she closed it and walked back into her house, slamming the door behind her.
“What a mean old lady,” Molly said to herself as the door shut, and she began to sulk as she walked away. As Molly glanced back at the preeminent house of the woman, she was filled with an odd determination: a determination to sell a box of Girl Scout cookies to the mean old lady on 230 Delaware Avenue.
The next Saturday, at exactly 11 a.m., Molly once again rang the doorbell of the old woman’s house. Through the window in the door, she could see that a light was on, so she waited until the same woman wearing the same frown came to the door. Then, she began her speech.
“Ma’am, I would really appreciate it if you would -”
“You’re back - again?” The woman sighed. “Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘no’?”
Molly shrugged. She walked to the sidewalk and sat cross-legged on the ground, looking up at the woman.
“What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone, stubborn girl?” The woman’s phone began to ring, and she looked down at it distractedly before addressing Molly again. “Do you want my money? You can have my money, if that’s what it’ll take for you to leave me alone.” The old woman hurriedly pulled a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and extended it towards Molly, who ran up to take it happily, turned around, and walked back towards her own house.
Molly came back the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, every time exactly at 11 a.m.. The old woman continued to give money to Molly almost instinctively now. In fact, Molly began to wonder if the old woman may even like their weekly routine. It became a sort of weekly appointment for them, Molly knocking on the door, the woman answering and stepping out onto the front porch, and then, eventually, bribing Molly not to sit on her sidewalk.
Christmas Day, December 25th, eventually approached, and, just like any day, the old woman woke up. She was Christian, but she didn’t believe in extravagant ceremonies or celebrations, and she didn’t have any close friends or family, so she went about her day like any other. At 11:30 a.m., she felt like something was missing, it was driving her crazy until she realized that the girl, Molly, had not come to her door. She decided to check the door anyway, out of habit more than curiosity. When she opened her door, however, she was shocked to see dozens and dozens of small boxes on her front porch and lining her driveway. Each box was individually wrapped, with a red bow sitting on the top of each one. The woman picked up the box closest to her and saw that it had a small note attached to it which read: “Thank you for all of your purchases over this pass month. Here are the Girl Scout cookies that you ordered.”
Out of sight of the woman, Molly stood on the sidewalk and watched as the old woman read the letter and gingerly unwrapped the box she was holding. She saw the woman examine the box closely, open it up, and eat one of the cookies. Then, though it was hard to tell through the thick haze of a winter blizzard, Molly thought that she saw the tiniest hint of a smile.