I let myself feel sad for a minute, because I couldn’t tell Grandma Sylvia anything and there wouldn’t be a “next time.” Eventually, Phoebe and I went on our way. I was beginning to see that grief was a lot like a rainy day. Sometimes the sadness was like a light mist around me, while other times it poured, mean and fierce. During the downpours, all I could do was hold on and remember that rain doesn’t last forever, even if it seems that way sometimes.
Along with the various boutiques, there were cafés, restaurants, cheese shops, and bakeries. Anything you wanted to eat, you could find on Île Saint-Louis. Again and again, we stopped outside bakeries to admire the sweet treats in the window. Tarts and cakes became little pieces of art, decorated so beautifully, it seemed like it would be hard to take a bite. My mouth watered as we stepped inside one of the bakeries and looked into the glass cases at the little apple, apricot, and berry tarts, the fresh fruit dusted with powdered sugar on top of a custard-filled crust.
“How do people live here and not weigh three hundred pounds?” I whispered to Phoebe as we stepped back outside.
“They walk a lot,” Phoebe said with a smile.
We finally made our way to Yamina, which had a sign with the name spelled out in bright orange letters. The storefront was painted the pretty color of a robin’s egg. Fashionably dressed mannequins were on display in the front window.
I stood there, frozen, staring at the place.
“Come on,” Phoebe said. “Let’s go meet Marie.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Phoebe, look at me. I didn’t inherit my grandma’s great eye for fashion. Once in a while she tried to teach me about style or whatever, but I just didn’t care that much. If only I had, so I wouldn’t be embarrassed right now.”
“Let me ask you this. If your grandmother was here, and you were meeting her for dinner tonight, what would you say if she asked you about visiting this shop? Would you really want to tell her you were too embarrassed to go inside?”
“She would have understood. Anyway, she’s not here. And if she were, then I could ask her to take me shopping and teach me all the things I should have learned earlier. It’s not fair that she left me alone to do this.”
Phoebe put her arm around me and guided me toward the front door. “You’re not alone, you silly goose. I’m with you.”
I put my hand in my pocket and fingered the plaid button as I reminded myself that today was all about having fun. I told myself to just breathe and relax, and everything would be okay.
We stepped onto the blue-and-orange-tiled floor and scanned the room. The first thing I noticed was that every person in Yamina looked like a put-together Parisian. There didn’t seem to be a lot of tourists, like Phoebe and me. The second thing I noticed was that this was definitely a shop of accessories. Anything a girl might want to complete an outfit could be found in that store: handmade jewelry, gloves, hats, handbags, and scarves.
“Bonjour, mademoiselles,” the saleswoman at the register said.
“Bonjour,” we replied.
Phoebe whispered in my ear, “Whenever you enter a shop in Paris, it’s important to say hello. Otherwise, they might think you are rude.”
“Good to know,” I whispered back.
We approached the petite woman with gray hair, and Phoebe asked to speak to Marie. “That is me,” she replied. “How can I help you?”
This time, I realized the butterflies in my stomach weren’t as noticeable. It was like they’d been replaced by tiny gnats. The more I spoke to Grandma’s friends, the easier it seemed to be. I was glad for that. I introduced myself to her like I had with the others, and fortunately, Marie had heard the news of my grandma. She asked another salesperson to cover the register and led us through a door into a back room. It was cluttered with boxes and racks of clothes.
“Back in December, Sylvia sent that package for you and your mother,” Marie told us, pointing to a large box in the corner. “I made the mistake of opening it before reading the note, and found it curious why she’d sent me two pairs of shoes, but then I …” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no. Forgive me. I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?”
“Shoes?” I repeated. “She sent us shoes? Do you know why?”
She reached out and gently squeezed my arm. “No, she did not say. I’m sorry. And you have no idea, either?”
I shook my head. “No. She’s leaving packages around the city. I’m not sure what it all means.”
“What a sweet woman, to do that for you and make this trip to Paris extra special. Well, I do hope you’ll come back with your mother so I can give you the package.”
“You can’t give it to me now?” I asked.
“No, Nora, I am sorry. I feel I must honor your grandmother’s wishes, and she said to give you the box only if your mother was with you.”
Marie escorted us back to the shop. “Feel free to look around before you go,” she told us with a smile. “Perhaps you’d like to take home a lovely scarf from Paris.”
I followed Phoebe as she made her way over to the wall where the scarves were hung on display. As she ran her hand across the rainbow of colors, she asked, “Which one do you like?”
“I’m not really sure. Besides, I’m only twelve years old, I wouldn’t know what to do with one of those things. How old are you anyway, Phoebe? I meant to ask you that.”
“I turn thirteen next month.”
“Wow, that’s exciting. I don’t turn thirteen for another nine months.”
“All right. So think of all those popular girls who turn their noses up at you. Think of their faces when you come back to school wearing an amazing piece you bought in Paris. Won’t it be nice to feel special in their eyes just once?”
“But how do you know I’m not one of the popular girls?” I asked.
“Because I believe you’re like me. And I’m not one of them, either.” She smiled. “We’re two peas in a pod.”
“Except you seem to like shopping a lot more than I do,” I teased.
“I now have one goal in life,” she said. “To turn you into a shopper.”
“Good luck with that,” I mumbled. It made her laugh.
The scarves cost more than I wanted to spend, so we left and went in search of the ice cream shop Grandma had mentioned in her note. By then, we were both starving, and part of me wanted to go back to the bakery and get one of those tarts that looked so good. But Phoebe said the ice cream place was well-known and we really should do as my grandma suggested.
I got a scoop of salted caramel while Phoebe went with strawberry sorbet. The ice cream was sweet, smooth, and creamy.
“So delicious, huh?” I asked as we made our way toward the river to find the bridge Grandma had mentioned.
“I think they must have picked the strawberries for this sorbet only hours ago,” she said, licking her lips. “So good.”
When we reached the bridge, a band was playing, so we stood and watched them, along with other tourists. When they finished the song, everyone applauded, and we moved along. We walked the length of the bridge, stopping to watch a juggler and another musician before we finally took a seat on a bench.
“Of all the things Grandma would send, why would she send shoes?” I asked after I’d eaten the last of my cone.
“Maybe she worried that the ones you’d brought along were uncomfortable.”
It made me laugh. “Oh no. Remember, my grandma was all about style. As long as you look good, who cares if you’re comfortable?”
There had to be another reason. It was like the more I learned, the more my curiosity grew. Pretty soon it would be taller than the Eiffel Tower.
I still think it’s amazing that your grandma went to all of this trouble for you,” Phoebe said. She reached down and unbuttoned her coat; the day had gotten warmer. “And so far in advance, too.”
“Grandma Sylvia was the most organized person I’ve ever met,” I said. “Every year, she had mo
st of her Christmas shopping finished by September. She’d tease me about it and make me so curious about what I’d be getting from her.”
“You know you definitely have to tell your mum, right? So you can go back and get all of the packages?”
“I wish there was something else I could do,” I said. “Some other way I could talk them into giving me the boxes.” I turned to her. “I know. Maybe we could convince Alice to pretend to be my mom.”
Now Phoebe was the one to laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
“We could get her a wig,” I said, my imagination going wild. “Some glasses. Put a frumpy coat on her.”
Before she could respond, a mime walked up not far from where we sat, put a black top hat out upside down on the sidewalk (for collecting money, I assumed), and began to perform.
“Oh, she’s so cute!” Phoebe whispered.
It was true. The mime was completely adorable. She had red lips and cheeks, which really stood out on her painted-white face. She wore a black beret with a black-and-white-striped bow that matched her striped shirt and tights. Her black skirt was cinched with a bright red belt. And then there were her shoes: red flats with bows. She wore white gloves, too, which I noticed as she pretended to open an umbrella.
She cautiously took a step forward, and stepped back. Her eyes glanced up, and then down. Again, she took a step, and now I understood—the umbrella wasn’t because it was raining, it was because she was pretending to be a tightrope walker.
A crowd gathered to watch the mime walk oh-so-carefully across the tightrope that didn’t really exist. Her movements were so exact, so spot-on, it was amazing. And then, just as she eased up a little bit, seeming to feel more comfortable with her balancing act, her hands started waving around, like she had lost her balance. It was the strangest thing, watching her on the sidewalk, being afraid that she might fall from the pretend tightrope.
When she finally regained her balance, her feet planted in the exact same spot the entire time, the mime gave us the biggest grin, like she was very proud of herself. We couldn’t help but applaud.
Once she got off the tightrope, she pretended to walk down a ladder to the ground. And when she reached the bottom, she stepped away a few feet, closed her umbrella, and leaned against it, like a cane.
Her facial and body expressions told us someone was talking to her. She put her face into her shoulder at one point, acting shy. Then she waved the person off, as if to say, “Oh no, you’re too kind.” A minute later she leaned in, wanting to hear more of what the person said as she fluttered her eyelashes.
She continued to flirt with the pretend person until finally, she leaned in even farther, still using the umbrella to prop herself up. With her eyes closed, she puckered her lips and stood there, waiting for a kiss.
And then suddenly, she toppled to the ground, as if the umbrella had been pulled out from under her. When she finally got to her feet, she ran to the ladder, grabbed hold of it, and looked up, shaking her fist. Clearly the person she’d been flirting with had stolen her umbrella and was now going to walk across the tightrope.
She turned to us, her finger on her chin, as if she was thinking about what to do. After a moment, her eyes got big and wide, and it seemed she had come up with a solution. She walked right toward Phoebe and me. The closer she got, the more I wondered what she was going to do. Finally, she stopped just a couple of feet away from our bench. She held out her hand, waiting for one of us to give her something.
Phoebe and I looked at each other and started laughing. Phoebe, being the more daring, reached into her coat pocket and pretended to pull something out and hand it to the mime. She nodded, curtsied as if to say thank you, and gave Phoebe a big smile.
The mime scurried back over to the invisible ladder and climbed it, the whole time carrying whatever it was that Phoebe had handed to her. I kept wondering, What is it, what did Phoebe give her? Phoebe didn’t know, either, of course. She’d just gone along with the mime, acting like handing her nothing was completely normal.
When the mime got to the top of the pretend ladder, she leaned over, put her two fingers out like a pair of scissors, and cut the rope. Then she smiled and waved in delight as she watched the person fall.
It made us all laugh. We applauded as the mime gave curtsy after curtsy.
“Oh, that was splendid, wasn’t it?” Phoebe said to me.
“You sound so grown-up when you use those fancy British words,” I said, laughing. “Yes. It was great.”
People started dropping money in the top hat, so I got a euro out of my wallet and gave it to Phoebe.
“Here. Can you give her this?”
“No,” she said. “You need to walk over there and do it yourself. There’s nothing to be afraid of. What do you think she might do, poke you with a pretend stick?”
“You’re funny when you’re mean, you know that?”
Phoebe stood up and motioned me to follow her, so I did. After I put the money in the hat, we stepped back, and I looked at where the pretend tightrope had been.
My grandma would have loved that performance. It was so much fun. And that’s what this trip was supposed to be about! Just like the plaid button I carried in my pocket, the mime was another reminder to not shy away from anything, and to have fun.
When it came down to it, I had two choices.
I could keep the envelopes to myself, which would be like cutting the rope. I’d have to watch the entire treasure hunt go tumbling to the ground. Or I could invite my mother to join in, and see what wonderful things my grandma had planned for us.
The question seemed to be, if I got brave enough to invite her, would she want to walk across the tightrope with me?
As we walked back to meet up with Justin and Alice, disappointment washed over me. I looked over at Phoebe. “I don’t want our day together to be over yet.”
“I know. I don’t, either.” She stopped walking. “Let’s exchange numbers. Hopefully we can find time to get together later in the week. After you’ve gathered your clues and figured out what it all means.”
I got a pen and a piece of paper out of my bag and wrote down her number, while she did the same with the number for my temporary cell phone.
“At the very least,” she said, “ring me in a couple of days and update me. I’ll be so curious to find out how things are going with you and your mum.”
“Okay. I will.”
With that, we made our way to where Justin and Alice stood waiting for us. I spotted them first. They had their arms around each other, and Justin was whispering something in Alice’s ear.
“We’re here,” I said as we walked up to them.
They turned to greet us, but neither of them looked very happy to see us.
“Aren’t you a little early?” Justin asked.
“Better than being late, right?” I said.
“Well, leave us alone for a minute. I want to say good-bye to Alice in private. They’re heading off on foot, while we’ll be taking the Métro back to the hotel.”
He gave us a little hand motion, like, Get out of here.
“Oh brother,” I said under my breath as we turned around and stepped away. I looked at Phoebe, who rolled her eyes and wrinkled up her little freckled nose. It made me laugh.
“Thanks again for everything,” I whispered. “I had such a good time.”
“I did as well,” she said.
“Okay, let’s go,” Justin called out.
I gave Phoebe a quick hug. “I hope I see you again soon.”
“Me too!”
We waved good-bye to each other as we went our separate ways.
“So, that was cool, huh?” Justin asked. “Running into them like that? Couldn’t have worked out better.”
For once, I couldn’t argue with my brother.
* * *
When we arrived at the hotel room, Mom was busy admiring the doll and case of little clothes she’d bought. We sat down on the bed and pretended to be interested in her ne
west addition.
“This pretty little thing,” she said, “is a French Bisque Bebe by Denamur, circa 1890. Isn’t she beautiful? She is in exquisite shape. Oh, sure, her hat is a bit faded, but look at her soft, brown hair, made with real human hair. And her big blue glass eyes. Isn’t her red sailor dress adorable?” We nodded, because what else could we do? “It’s made of silk. She even has antique undergarments on. Do you want to see?”
Mom started to pull up the doll’s dress, but that’s where Justin drew the line. He stood up. “Mom, that’s great, she’s really, uh, cute and everything, but we’re starving. Can we go find a place to eat? Please?”
“Oh, sure. Let me just put all of this away. While I do that, tell me, what did you two do today?”
As we rode the train back to the hotel, Justin and I had talked about what we’d tell our mother. We didn’t want to lie, but we also didn’t want to have to tell her every detail of what we’d done. Justin had said to let him talk when the time came, so that’s what I did.
“We met two girls from England. Alice is my age and Phoebe is Nora’s age, so we hung out with them. We had the best crêpes for lunch, Mom. You have to try one. Nutella and bananas. So good, right, Nora?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Really good.”
“That’s funny,” Mom said, “I had a crêpe for lunch, too. But I had one with prosciutto and cheese. It was to die for. I have to be careful or I’ll gain ten pounds this week.” She smiled. “Ah, who cares? It’ll be worth it if I do, right? This has been such a fabulous trip already, and we still have the rest of the week.”
“It was nice of Grandma to do this for us, wasn’t it?” I said.
My mom put the doll boxes by her suitcase and picked up her purse. I waited for her to agree with me. I wanted Mom to appreciate Grandma’s kindness, because it showed that Grandma loved us and wanted us to be a family again. Grandma had done her part, now I wanted my mother to do hers. But she didn’t say a word.