Enchanting Lily (21 page)

Lily

Bish arrived early on Saturday morning, bundled in a new puffy white parka that extended almost to her knees and made her resemble a quilted comforter. In matching winter boots, fuzzy hat, and windstopper gloves, she was equipped to trek to the North Pole. A splash of madrone-colored hair escaped from the hat and formed an unruly frame around her face. Her eyes looked different, older. She wore black-rimmed glasses in a sophisticated style, no longer her bright red frames. Her stance was somehow more grown-up and worldly, too, and Lily imagined her in her twenties, in
her thirties, her forties, then stooped and arthritic, her glasses turning into bifocals or trifocals, here in the world and then gone.

Lily resisted the urge to run to Bish and hug her. Not a good idea to hug teenagers. They normally made faces and shrugged you off. So Lily stood behind the counter and tried not to hold her breath.
Thank you, Rupert,
she thought.
You are a true friend.

Bish pulled off a glove and wiped her nose, and she was back to being sixteen, an excited girl on the threshold of her first Homecoming dance, maybe her first kiss.

She stamped her wet boots on the new welcome mat, the one Lily had found with a cat picture on it and the words “Wipe Your Paws.” She tucked her gloves into her pockets and looked up toward the highest shelf in the shop, on which the cat crouched, queen of all she surveyed. “Hey, kitty! I missed you!”

“She missed you, too,” Lily said.

Two women browsed the clearance racks, weekend visitors from the city. They looked up briefly and smiled, then returned to browsing, and Lily returned to measuring the sleeves of a red Chanel jacket on the alterations table.

The cat jumped down off the shelves, knocking a stack of scarves to the floor, and rushed over to Bish.

“Whoa, you’re growing your coat,” Bish said, scooping the cat into her arms. “You would fit in the new winter display in the window.”

“It was Rupert’s idea,” Lily said.

“The snowflakes are a nice touch.”

“They don’t look too much like dandruff?”

“Looks like kitty got into a box of foam and ripped it to shreds. You could call her Foam. Or Snowflake.”

“Not sure about those names,” Lily said.

“How about Dandruff? Or Fluff?”

“Not sure about those, either. Rupe says that white fluff is some newfangled biodegradable material.”

“Yeah, like newfangled recycled paper. Cool Radio Flyer.”

“We didn’t have a sled, but the red wagon is vintage, so I improvised.”

“I like that, improvising.” Bish put the cat down and strolled through the shop, her boots clopping on the hardwood. She took in the lighting, the rearranged carousels, the mixture of the old and the new. Her gaze passed over the mannequins and hat racks, cat trees, and scratching posts.

“I was going to stop by sooner,” she said, “but…Whoa, you’ve got a lot more stuff in here now.” She gravitated toward the alterations table and looked around at the
clutter—scraps of fabric, piles of men’s neckties, pins and scissors, sewing machine, spools of thread.

“I can’t stay on top of the mess…” Lily began.

“It’s a good kind of mess. A lived-in kind of mess. Sort of like my bedroom. Except my mom always wants to clean it up, drives me insane.”

“Did you have a good time with her?” Might as well get to the point. “Looks as though she succeeded in keeping you warm. Did she buy the parka?”

“The whole shebang.” Bish looked down at her new Arctic-worthy boots. “She got on my dad’s case, said he had no sense of fashion and dressed me like a vagabond. Then she went overboard taking me shopping. It’s a guilt thing.”

“What do you mean, a guilt thing?”

Bush unzipped her coat and took off her new knit cap, her hair sticking up in a halo of static. “It’s what absent parents do. They feel guilty about not being around for their kids, so they buy them off.”

Lily rolled up the tape measure and set it on the table. “You’re too wise for your years, you know that? Where did you learn about parental guilt? From Dr. Phil, or was it Oprah?”

“Oprah’s not on regular daytime TV anymore. Where have you been?”

“Obviously not watching TV.”

“I don’t either. But I can picture the show, ‘Absent Parents on a Guilt Trip and the Kids They Buy Off.’ Some parents buy their kids, like, entire houses or islands. I get the clothes, but I don’t mind the guilt thing. I like it when my mom buys me stuff, plus she buys stuff for my friends, too. But I wish she wouldn’t pretend. It’s so lame.”

“Pretend what? That she loves you? She does love you. She does the best she can. We all do.” Why was Lily apologizing for Bish’s itinerant mother?

“She loves me in her own way, I guess. But she doesn’t like to hang around and make Halloween costumes and cookies. She’s not that kind of mom, but I’ve come to terms with how she is. Took me a while, but I grew out of needing her motherly love. As we get older, we get over things. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“As you get older, huh?” Lily pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She could hear the sadness beneath Bish’s words. “You’re ancient. So old and wise, I’m surprised you haven’t developed cataracts.”

“Come on.” Bish slapped Lily’s arm playfully. “So what is that jacket on the table? Cool gold buttons.”

“Chanel logos on each one, see? CC. Red wool. It’s lined with matching red silk on the inside. Sometimes these Chanel jackets can run upwards of eight thousand dollars. But I’m selling it for much less.”

“Are you going to alter it?”

Lily stepped back and looked at the jacket, admiring its delicate seams and pockets. “Some things are perfect just the way they are. The key is knowing which ones to change, and which ones to leave untouched.”

“And this one you’re leaving alone.”

“Exactly. Like your parka, too. Fits you perfectly. Your mom has good taste.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I look like a walking igloo.”

“No, the white suits you. Did you find a good Homecoming dress?”

“We looked all over. My mom likes to shop. She buys stuff for herself all the time, too. We ended up with this designer dress, like, so expensive. Tadashi Shoji or something.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It has these ruffles stuck on it. It comes with a transparent cape in case I get cold.”

“That’s great. I bet you’re so glad you, um, went shopping with her. So, what about shoes?”

“Kate Spade New York Charmers.”

Lily glanced at her rows of secondhand designer shoes. “So you had a productive visit.”

“The dress fits me, but I can’t walk in the shoes. I was just humoring my mom. I couldn’t let her down. She got this look on her face. She came into the fitting room and
looked in the mirror and got all teary-eyed. And the sales lady came in and went on and on about how I look like my mom and we’re both so pretty and—how can I look like my mom when I’m not like her at all? We have totally different personalities. I’m way more like my dad.”

“I’m sure you have elements of both parents. You’re ambitious like your mother, aren’t you? You do well in school, you have big plans. You don’t give up.”

“But I don’t wear ruffles and frills. I feel like a doily in that dress. Guys will want to put their drinks on me, not dance with me!”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. If your mom thought you looked beautiful, she was telling the truth.”

“Her version of beautiful. But the dress is not me. I’m not fluffy. I’m not like the cat. She’s naturally fluffy. It’s who she is. But I’m not, and I’m so not Dolte and Cabana!” She took off the glasses and waved them around, squinting.

“You mean Dolce & Gabbana,” Lily said. “Is that what those glasses are? Your mom got those for you, too?”

“They keep slipping down.” She propped them back on her nose and took an exaggerated, deep breath.

“Your other glasses keep slipping down your nose, too. Both pairs look good on you, if it helps at all.”

Bish shrugged. “So did you sell the Cinderella dress then?”

“Oh no, I haven’t sold it. I made a few final changes and then I, uh, hung it up back here in the closet. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet.”

Bish’s eyes brightened. “Can I see it?”

Lily brought it out of the closet, the blue silk shimmering as it caught the light.

Bish drew in an audible breath. “This is the dress? This is what you did?”

“Just a few adjustments.”

“Are you kidding? Can I try it on?”

“If you want. I’m not offended if you wear the dress you bought with your mom. Honestly. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings.”

But Bish didn’t seem to hear. She was already on her way to the fitting room. The cat trotted over to sit near the three-way mirror in her usual spot.

Bish emerged looking like the brightest star in the Milky Way. “You’re truly beautiful,” Lily said.

Bish pressed her hands to her cheeks. She extended her leg, revealing a little thigh, the split in the dress just high enough to be tantalizing but not too revealing. “I love this. I love it so much. I want to wear this one. What do you think, kitty?”

The cat reached out to touch the shimmering skirt
with her paw, claws retracted. Then she sat back and squinted.

“See? She loves it, too.”

The other shoppers were looking at Bish now.

“But what about your Tadashi Shoji dress?” Lily said. “You should wear it, especially if your mom spent a lot of money on it.”

“She won’t know if I don’t wear it to the dance. I’ll take a picture of myself in it and send her the photo.”

“Bish!”

“She won’t be here. She’s already gone. She’s on a plane somewhere, like Paris, who knows?”

“I’m sorry she’s gone again.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bish pulled back, a touch of sadness in her eyes but also resignation. “I’m going to need help with my makeup and hair, the whole shebang.”

“I’ll help you. Are you going on a date to the dance, or—?”

“This guy who plays saxophone in the school band. He’s really cool. He’s going to pick me up in a limo with my best friend and her boyfriend.”

“That’s fabulous. I’m so happy for you. Um, will your Kate Spade shoes go with the blue dress?”

“I’ll have to come back with them.” Bish turned to
examine the scooped back of the dress. Her reflection in triplicate, with the cat at her feet, would remain in Lily’s mind forever.

Then Bish flung her arms around Lily’s neck and hugged her. “This is the most beautiful dress in the history of the entire universe.”

“Um, thanks,” Lily said, relishing Bish’s teenage tendency to speak in extremes. “I’m happy for you, the happiest I’ve been in the history of the entire universe.”

Bish pulled back and smiled. “So, like, I want you to meet my friends. Can we all go out for pizza? Or can we stop by here on our way to the dance?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll introduce you as my dad’s girlfriend. Is that okay?”

Lily felt her face flushing hot. “But—”

“It’s true, isn’t it? Are you going to marry my dad? Move in with us?”

“Maybe you should introduce me as your friend. I am your friend, Bish. I’ll always be your friend.”

“I know, but I’m not the kind of person to beat around the bush. And I want you to be my dad’s girlfriend, anyway. When he talks about you, he smiles. He’s like nicer to me. You should marry him.”

“I’m not even seeing your dad.”

“I’m just saying.” Bish narrowed her gaze at Lily. “You need to go over and see him.”

“Let’s take it all one step at a time. I don’t think I can do that—”

“Yes, you can. He’s working late tonight.”

“You want me to go and see him at the clinic.”

Bish nodded. “Go and talk to him. He really wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t go to the clinic tonight, Bish.”

“Why not? I already told him you would go there around eight.”

“But, Bish—”

“Awesome!” She went back into the dressing room, came out in her white quilted getup and handed Lily the blue dress on its padded hanger. “Can you keep it here for now? I’ll come back later with the shoes.”

“I can’t wait.” Lily dared to look forward with hope, to the next visit with Bish, the next cozy night with the cat.

On her way out the door, Bish looked back and said, “Don’t forget—the clinic tonight at eight. Be there or be square.”

Lily

Lily considered working right through the evening, ignoring Bish’s request. But as the afternoon wore on, the minutes seemed to pass too slowly, and against her better judgment, her heart began to flutter with anticipation. She took too long to get dressed at seven thirty, to fuss with her hair. What was she doing, going to the clinic? What did Ben want to tell her? Maybe he would apologize for leading her on, or thank her for Bish’s dress, or maybe he had something to tell her about the cat.

At the clinic, she found the front door unlocked, but
the reception area was dark and empty. The familiar, faint scent of pine cleaner drifted into her nose, and a diffused, squarish light spilled in from the hallway.

“Ben? Are you here? It’s me, Lily!”

“Lily?” Ben came up front in his lab coat, looking worried. But he couldn’t hide the trace of excitement in his eyes when he saw her. “What are you doing here? Is the cat all right? Did she collapse again?”

“The cat is fine.” She was breathless. “Bish told me to come. She said you wanted to talk to me.”

“She said that, did she? Come on in.” Ben took off his lab coat and led her into his office. Underneath the coat, he wore jeans and a white T-shirt.

He sat at his desk and rubbed his temples. “It’s been a long day. Have a seat.” He gestured toward an extra chair, but Lily remained standing. The photograph on his desk was gone.

“So?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

He looked up at her. “I didn’t ask Bish to tell you anything. If I’d wanted to talk to you, I would’ve called you myself.”

She turned to leave, her heart pounding. “Sorry, then I was mistaken.”

“Wait!” In a moment, he was up, coming around from
behind the desk to stand in front of Lily. “I’m glad you came here. You didn’t return my calls.”