The next day, I zipped by DiDi in the kitchen and mumbled something about going to the library, but instead, I walked through town by myself. I thought about being on the hill with Trip. I thought about how alone I felt. And then I thought about it some more. And then in the middle of all that thinking, I saw the reflection of a woman in a store window. She paused ahead of me on the sidewalk. She seemed to glance back at me and then stop and look again. She turned and asked a passerby something. She looked lost.
I knew the lost woman was not Mama.
I knew because she was alive and my mama was dead.
But I followed her anyway. Just for a bit. Because truth is, right at that moment, I really needed a little What If.
I watched from down the street as she ducked into this little store. I waited a minute and then followed her in.
The door made a pretty little bell sound. I stepped inside and closed my eyes. It smelled like candles and perfume and fancy paper.
“May I help you?”
I heard myself answer, “Do you carry Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow lipstick? In the Classic Gold Case, please?”
I opened my eyes.
The salesclerk was an older woman. Not like Granny Old. More like Older Aunt Old. She had on this pretty sweater with a little gold chain that held it together in the front. I looked around for the woman who was Not Mama. She had gone straight to the counter in the back and was talking to a man about some kind of skin cream.
The salesclerk in the pretty sweater peered at me over her little glasses, but her voice was kind. “I believe that shade has been out of production for quite a while now. Years, actually. How do you even know it?”
Our eyes met. And the way she smiled at me, right then and there, I just knew she didn’t have a stopwatch in her pocket.
I started talking. “It was my mama’s favorite lipstick. The only one she’d ever wear. If she went into a drugstore and they were out of it, she’d go into the next one and the next one and the—next.” My voice started to squeak. I did that trick where you keep your eyes open real wide. Trying not to blink, because I really did not want to cry in front of this nice lady with the pretty sweater, held by a gold chain. “At least, that’s what my sister, DiDi, always said.”
The woman nodded. “I’m Ida.” She held out her hand. Then she held out a tissue.
“Hi, Miss Ida, it’s nice to meet you.” I took a deep breath. “My name is Galileo.”
“Galileo? Ah! After Galileo the scientist?”
I nodded.
“A heavenly name. Far more appropriate for a pretty young girl than an old man, if you ask me.”
“Well, truth is I never liked it, but DiDi always calls me GiGi… till this year. I, um, kind of decided to try being called—Leia.” I wasn’t sure why I was talking to her like this or why it mattered what she thought. “Do you—like it?”
“I do,” Ida said right away. Like she’d made up her mind in that second. “You’re taking charge of your own destiny, and I like that very much. Highly commendable in a young person.”
I exhaled and looked around. The Cottage Pharmacy. With a whole counter of beautifully shaped soaps and hair clips and even some shiny jewelry. Ida didn’t look like a real drugstore clerk. I mean, she looked like a real person, but maybe like a real person on a TV show about real people who are better looking and better dressed than most real people. Which, to tell the truth, was pretty much the way this whole town looked.
“You know…” Ida tapped her chin with a finger. “I do remember a customer who came in here talking about a lipstick that she wanted—one that had been discontinued… hmmm.”
The lady who was Not Mama had paid the cashier and was now heading for the door.
I turned my head.
She walked out.
I began to take a step in her direction. Then stopped.
Ida was looking at me like she was trying to figure something out. “Teddy?” she called. “Will you cover the front of the store for a bit? I’m just going to be in my office with Leia here.”
This nice young man peeked around the aisle. He waved at me and said, “No problem, Ida.”
And the next thing you know, we were behind the counter and going through this door with a big bulletin board that had crisscrossing pink and green ribbons all over it, held down with bright brass tacks. Stuck between the ribbons were all these photos and notes. Now, I’m not sure why anyone would ever send mail to their drugstore, but the Cottage Pharmacy had tons.
Birth announcements!
Thank-you cards!
It just made me happy that Ida was letting me come into her office. I’ll bet none of those people thanking her were invited back there. On the doorknob, there was a sign hanging from a ribbon with a tiny patchwork frame that had the words PRIVATE! PLEASE KEEP OUT! in tiny little pink stitches. Why, even her KEEP OUT sign was pretty and polite.
The door led to a little hallway where there was a coffee machine and a little basket of mini-muffins. A restroom. (“Do you need to use the ladies’, Leia?” to which I answered, “No thank you, ma’am.”) And a glass door at the far end, which led to the back parking lot. Right before that was a plain door that said EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Ida took out a key and opened the door. I guess I expected the office to be as pretty and decorated as everything else, but I have to say it was mostly businesslike. A big computer and stacks and stacks of notebooks and little pieces of scribbly paper stuck everywhere. Boxes were piled up in one corner—some opened, with those little foam peanuts spilling out. I loved foam peanuts. Whenever I could get ahold of them, I’d use them to torture DiDi. She was terrified of the sound they made rubbing and squeaking together. It always made her scream and run away, laughing hysterically. But it never bothered me. Funny, the things people run away from.
“Here, Leia,” Ida said. “Take a seat and let’s see if we can at least get you started.”
She turned on her computer, which began to hum nicely and then gave a little piano chord. Like it was ready to play.
She glanced up at me. “Did you ever try a quick Internet search?”
“No.” I shook my head. I wasn’t sure how to explain. “I just—I knew it wasn’t anywhere. I knew. But this part of me”—I pointed to my heart—“this place inside me just… liked wishing, and asking for it. I’ve never had anything of my mama’s, and I know it’s just… lipstick, but it feels more like… it feels more like I’d be finding a piece of her. And that would be a miracle.”
Ida looked at me with her kind eyes. “Miracles and lipstick. I like it.”
“And then right before we moved here, this No-Good Lying Son of a Walnut who was dating our friend Lori, he said that sometimes companies bring back old colors.… I didn’t think much of it. But then this girl I know—my friend Haven—she said the same thing. So for the very first time, I thought maybe I could really find it. And if I could get it—really and truly get it—then it would be like Mama coming back and bringing me and DiDi together again and everything would—” I hiccupped. “It would fix everything, Miss Ida. I just know it.”
Ida nodded and gave me a moment of quiet before she started talking again. I appreciated it. “Well, what your No-Good Son of a Walrus was talking about—”
“Walnut.”
“Really? Well, Walnut, then—though personally, I find Son of a Walrus more humorous. What he was talking about is what we call a reissue.”
“Reissue?”
“It means that for a limited time, a company may celebrate a popular retired color by selling it in stores again.” She started typing quickly on the keyboard.
“Really?” I asked. And I held my breath.
“Look at this,” Ida said.
The screen began filling up top to bottom with hundreds of ideas about where I could find Cherries in the Snow. It was crazy.
“Miss Ida?”
“Hmmm—yes, dear?”
I paused. “DiDi and I had a fight. Well, we’ve had a couple of fights lately. And I think, well, I know I said some pretty mean things to her.”
Ida was watching me. Really close. But I liked the way she was doing it. Not like some pie judge, trying to see what kind of pie I was from the outside. But more like maybe she wanted to know what kind I was on the inside. And like it was important to her.
“I thought if I got her Cherries in the Snow for her birthday, then we’d both—we’d always have part of Mama with us. Do you think she’d like that?”
I don’t know why Ida would know. But I just wanted her to like my idea while I was in that messy office inside the beautiful store where there was a pink-and-green-ribboned door covered with thank-you notes and a polite way to say KEEP OUT.
“I can’t imagine a lovelier gift,” said Ida. “I do have to get back to the store, but you are more than welcome to stay here and search online as long as you’d like.”
I looked at that list of all the places Cherries in the Snow lipstick was waiting to be found. “Is it okay—could I please just print this? I-I think I want to do this with some—some friends I have.”
Ida smiled and pressed Print. A fresh, smooth, miraculous sheet of paper flew practically right into the air. Ida caught it and handed it to me. “Friends are always a good idea.”
The paper was light and cool and perfect. “Thank you, Miss Ida.”
She held out her hand. I held out mine and we shook.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she said.