We stepped into the overpriced boutique. The gimmick was you picked a purse style, fabric, buttons, and ribbons and walk away with a unique custom-made handbag. Long tables were set up in the middle of the store, with sample fabric strewn across haphazardly, as if there had just been a purse-picking party.
The owner had no idea who-or what-had just entered her shop. I could tell her face was straining, trying to hold back her real thoughts. She was ready to push the panic button. Instead she did her best to feign enthusiasm. "We specialize in one-of-a-kind purses. We can come to your home and if you have at least five women show up, you get a free purse."
I could just imagine the shopkeeper, swatches of fabric in tow, arriving to discover the Mansion instead of her usual five-bedroom cookie-cutter mega-mansions and speeding away before her tires passed the wrought-iron gates.
Mrs. Sterling didn't say a word as she cased the shop. She held her umbrella with one hand, and with her free one she picked through purses.
I sensed the saleswoman was checking her inner clock, hoping we'd get out of the storeimmediately.
"I'm absolutely crazy about this!" Mrs. Sterling exclaimed, holding up a woolly black carpet bag. "Do Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,you have leopard print? "
"Yes. Would you like piping, trim, or ribbon?" the woman asked, now enthused about a possible sale.
"Black lace.I'd like a shoulder-length strap made of thick chain."
The saleswoman tried to hide her shock. Every handle in the store was either made of plastic or ribbon.
"I'm sure we can find that somewhere," she said, determined.
I was holding a crimson messenger bag. The cheapest purse was ninety-five dollars. And that was the size of a cosmetic bag.
"This is to die for. Pick one out, Raven."
I was in an awkward position. I knew my mom would freak if I let someone outside my family buy me an expensive gift. Even my mom, who wore fashionable designer purses, got them at the outlet mall.
"My treat."Mrs. Sterling's voice was intense but loving.
"That's okay. I don't need one."
The saleswoman, sniffing another sale, examined me.
There were pinks and greens and plaids. Nothing screamed my name.
"I'm not sure those prints are her style," she said to Mrs. Sterling. "We could make a black one with a red reversible. Or I do remember a special pattern-left over from Halloween.".
She quickly popped in the back and returned with a wad of fabric. It was black with tiny metallic silver bats.
I couldn't help but show my infatuation for the small piece of cotton.
"To die for!"Mrs. Sterling said. "We'll take it."
My mom would kill me if she knew Mrs. Sterling bought me a hundred-dollar purse. But I was stuck in between a vampire and an overly eager shopkeeper.
"Pick out your style of purse" the woman encouraged.
"I really don't- "I tried.
"She keeps clutching the messenger bag. That will be stunning with the bat print," Mrs. Sterling said to the owner.
As the woman rang up our purchases, I could see how Mrs. Sterling transformed the shopkeeper's attitude. Either way, Mrs. Sterling wasn't affected.
I admired Alexander's mom. I never really had anyone to look up to. A role modelOf course, I had Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,my mother and Aunt Libby.Two women who were confident and opinionated and comfortable in their own skin. But no one like me in style and taste-not until I'd met Mrs. Sterling.
***
Shirley's Bakery was a quaint establishment selling the freshest cookies, cakes, and donuts in Dullsville. On one side of the store a customer could buy a chocolate-covered pretzel, and on the other side was a pink-and-black-tiled ice-cream parlor.
Shirley still dished out the ice cream with herteenworkers . On a clear night, the line went around the block, like for a first-runStar Wars flick.