Glossy Lips

by Barbara Silkstone

  The breeze caught Lizzy’s hair and blew it over her face. She laughed as she brushed it aside. “It’s funny how the universe works. I used to come here with a guy I was dating—Sterling. He loved the ambience.”

  She sipped her lemonade. “After we ended our thing, this deck became a place for me to grab a solitary dinner and watch the boats go by. I ate here a few times a week. Then one day I met Dave. He’s the manager and head chef.”

  “Is there a Nancy? Is she crabby?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Very crabby! Someday you’ll meet her and be sorry you did. New topic! You were about to tell me about your grandmother’s business.”

  “It was just something she fiddled with.” I tried to be casual. “Nonna kept a collection of recipes she inherited from her grandmother back in Italy. There was one she particularly enjoyed making,” I hesitated to share anything more about Nonna’s magical cold cream, as she always seemed protective of it.

  Even though we hadn’t placed an order, our waitress brought two plates of fried fish, hushpuppies and coleslaw. Obviously, Lizzy’s usual. My mouth watered as I squeezed a lemon wedge over the fillets, picking at a crumble of crust that lay at the edge of the dish.

  “Were they Italian recipes? I’m guessing your grandmother made a killer marinara sauce. Did she make her own pasta?” Lizzy cut into the crispy fish crust.

  “That’s a stereotype. Italian grannies standing around stirring tomato sauce all day is a bit fictional. Nonna was a fair cook, but her real skill was in concocting her magic cold cream.”

  There—I had trusted Lizzy with my family secret. I hoped she wasn’t a blabbermouth. She raised one eyebrow and stopped chewing.

  Lizzy swallowed a loud gulp of lemonade. “Your grandmother was Beauty on the Beach?”

  The title surprised me. “People called Nonna Beauty on the Beach?”

  “That’s the name we outsiders dubbed the phantom lady who brewed miracle face cream. She gave her cream to an inner circle of friends but she swore them to secrecy. I never knew her real identity. My Grams was one of her clients.”

  She patted her cheek. “I have a single jar of the magical cold cream left. I use it sparingly. Grams gifted it for my last birthday. That potion works wonders, but I don’t need to tell you.”

  She studied my face not hiding her curiosity. “How old are you?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth and she turned crimson. “That was rude, wasn’t it? I was thinking it and then it popped out of my mouth. What is wrong with me today? It must be the two nicotine patches I’m wearing. Have you got a pretzel or something?”

  My lemonade glass was within her reach. She snatched the straw out of it, grabbed the one in her glass, and jammed them in her mouth. “Never mind. I’m under control. Oral fixation!” She giggled.

  I waved at the waitress. “Could I get another straw, please?”

  “I’m so sorry. It’s just that my grandmother has been using your grandmother’s skin cream for as long as I can remember. Grams is eighty-six but doesn’t look a day over fifty—okay, sixty. She says it’s all due to the cold cream.”

  She stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “You could make a fortune selling that cream if you knew how your grandmother made it. It’s the next best thing to the fountain of youth.”

  Put off by her asking my age, I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m not eighty-six,” I said through my clenched jaw, ignoring the bit about making a fortune.

  Lizzy laughed. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were Grams age.”

  I tried not to show that I was bothered. “Thirty-two is a bit closer to the truth.”

  Again she laughed. “I would have taken you for twenty-two, maybe twenty-five, but only that, because you have a medical degree.” She bit into a hushpuppy, swallowed, and finished speaking. “If there are any extra jars at your grandmother’s condo I would love to buy them.”

  The hostess trotted to our table “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, Lizzy. Dave is overwhelmed. He said to tell you we have another late party tonight.” She smiled at me. “Frying and dying!” She zipped off running to the hostess stand.

  “Have you got time to stop at my cottage? I need to feed WonderDog, and I would love to show you my finches.”

  According to Myron, I had two whole weeks to accomplish my tasks. I could spare the time to visit her home. A single nod put me into Lizzy’s convertible with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

  We tooled along Starfish Boulevard, the sights and sounds of the Gulf of Mexico on my right, and a slightly giddy driver on my left. I wondered what was in those stop-smoking patches she wore.

  Chapter 6

  Lizzy careened off the two-lane beach boulevard doing twenty miles per hour. We car-bounced onto a beach and pebble trail, through scrub pines and around a dune. By the time I caught my breath, we had arrived at a single-story wood cottage with pink gingerbread trim. A neglected border of wilted wildflowers surrounded both sides of the door. Inside a dog barked.

  “I’m coming, WonderDog!” Lizzy fumbled with her keys.

  When she opened the door, a hairy mass leaped on her. For an instant I feared it might be a werewolf attack. I gasped when my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the kitchen of the cottage. WonderDog bore no resemblance to any canine I had ever seen. If he was a breed, it was not one the Kennel Club recognized.

  The creature stood on his hind legs with his front paws on her shoulders. He slobbered her with such force that she fell on the wooden floor, giggling. WonderDog resembled a child’s sketch of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. His long hair was a faded shade of black I guessed to be the texture of steel wool. His ears were each as large as his muzzle. If it’s possible for a dog to be knock-kneed, he was. The finishing touch looked like spikey white hair extensions that burst from his black Brillo coat in no particular pattern. He was a critter that only someone with a good heart could love.

  “This is WonderDog,” Lizzy introduced me to him and he presented a messy paw. “He’s a rescue dog,” she said. “I had to adopt him because no one else would. They were going to put him to S-L-E-E-P!” She wiped her face with the back of her hand and giggled again. “I named him WonderDog to help his ego. He’s my man!” She ruffed his hair and then clambered to her feet.

  A tiny finch landed on my shoulder, and I yelped in surprise. “I flinched at your finch!”

  Lizzy laughed. “Prepare to flinch a lot. I have seventy-six finches. Here comes the rest of the gang looking for birdseed.”

  “Seventy-six? You must spend all your time cleaning their cages!” I raised my hand to shelter my eyes; not that I was frightened, but it was a bit of surprise to be swarmed.

  “I would never cage a bird. It wouldn’t be fair. They fly free in the cottage.” She chuckled “You should see the expression on your face! There is nothing quite as delightful as waking in the morning and being greeted by a tiny finch on your pillow. They are such sweet little birds.”

  I had to ask about the poop—who wouldn’t? “Aren’t the bird droppings a problem?”

  “Don’t wrinkle your face, it might freeze that way!” she said. “Everything and everybody who enters your life comes with a bit of poo. You just have to decide how much poo you are willing to tolerate.” She giggled. “Compared to my ex-husband, the poo from seventy-six finches is practically hygienic.”

  We broke out in giggles. She was right, everyone who ever stepped into my world dropped a bit of poo. I was still cleaning up after my ex. Until that moment I had not realized I was starved for silliness. It felt so good to laugh with Lizzy.

  Tiny birds fluttered, swooped, and hopped from one surface to another. White spots of bird-doo scattered like snowflakes on the furnishings and should have icked me, but instead reduced me to helpless giggles. The place was both neat and messy.

  The interior of the cottage was old Florida construction with one large room of cedar and pine. Exposed beams added the needed height for the birds and prov
ided a sense of airiness. Painted affirmatives scrolled across many of the wooden rafters. Where one stopped another began.

  SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD, AND SO SHE DID!

  LEAVE A LITTLE SPARKLE WHEREVER YOU GO!

  EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE AMAZING!

  NEVER PUT OFF ANYTHING!

  Standing in Lizzy’s little cottage decorated in playful art, whimsical sculptures, and with the birds flitting about, I felt like I had stepped into a storybook. I know I must have given her a wide-eyed look because she dissolved into laughter.

  “This is quite a herd of birds you have.”

  “Flock!” Lizzy said. “A flock of birds, not a herd!”

  “They may be a flock to you, but to me they’re a herd!” I snickered extending a finger for a bird to perch.

  “If you can find a poop-free spot, have a seat while I feed WonderDog.” She hefted a huge bag of kibble and filled a dog dish to the brim. Before the Brillo hound could approach, an army of finches took control of the food and he backed away. A finch sat on his head. He tried to shake it loose, but it held on.

  I took off my suit jacket and plucked at my blouse to cool down. Both the heat and laughter sent my body temperature soaring. Picking a few white dots off the red cushion of a ladder-back chair, I plopped down.

  The determined bird remained on WonderDog’s head while Lizzy scurried about filling cups with birdseed. My endless laughter turned into soundless guffaws. I looked away not wanting WonderDog to think I was laughing at him. Animals can be sensitive. I laughed harder.

  I finally got my laughter under control and rested in a cloud of peace. Nothing bad could ever occur in this tiny little jewel box of a cottage by the sea.

  “This is a happy place, isn’t it?” Lizzy said, noting my reaction. “I bought it when I separated from my ex. We don’t even mention his name in here. Only good things happen within these walls. This is my womananctuary.”

  I felt a smile build as what she was insinuating sunk in. “Every woman should have a sanctuary? You’re suggesting I ought to keep my Nonna’s condo, right?”

  She shrugged and rolled her palms skyward.

  A bark of laughter escaped my lips. “Whether I sell or not, I still must sort out my grandmother’s things. Mind running me back to Sandy Shores?”

  She giggled. “I thought I would let you walk.”

  I cut her a fake grimace. “If you want a jar of Nonna’s cold cream you don’t even joke about making me walk in this sun.”

  She poked me with her elbow. “Speaking of walking, join us for our afternoon doggy run.”

  Lizzy untangled a leash, hooked up WonderDog, and went out the door like a waterskier behind a powerboat. I followed more sedately.

  WonderDog took us for a short gallop around the property, sniffing seaweed, cabbage palms, and driftwood. He snuffled, we didn’t. I gathered a few shells while Lizzy pretended to pick up after her dog. She carried a little green plastic bag but somehow managed not to see his droppings.

  My watch showed two o’clock when Lizzy locked up her cottage, birds and all. Not that it mattered. I was free from the tyranny of a schedule.

  As I jumped in Lizzy’s Jaguar and we set off for Nonna’s condo, I considered the pleasures of moving to the laid-back world of Starfish Cove.

  Of course there was the minor matter of income.

  Chapter 7

  “Come on up and I’ll see if there’s an extra jar of the cold cream hidden in one of the cabinets.”

  We took the elevator to the second floor. I was feeling the effects of the long drive and no sleep. Even a little catnap would be welcome.

  My cat wasn’t napping either. Puff jumped from the sofa when I opened the door, raced to me and rubbed her fluffy body against my ankles. She nudged me with her head urging me to pick her up. I stepped backwards to dodge her kitten head-bumps and squashed Lizzy’s foot under my heel.

  Lizzy hopped around a bit but otherwise ignored her mashed foot. Nothing else matters when a woman is on the trail of miracle cold cream. She said, “Let’s check the bathrooms and your grandmother’s bedroom. Somewhere there’s a wayward jar of cream waiting for me to find it.”

  Twenty minutes later, I collapsed in an armchair. We searched all three rooms but couldn’t find a jar. “I give up,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “There’s still this little office,” Lizzy called from the alcove. “What about this gold-colored box? That would be a good place to keep a couple of jars.”

  I scrambled to my feet and dashed into Nonna’s office. Lizzy reached for the chest that held the formulas. The two sheets of paper lay on top as I had left them. When she reached for the box, they drifted to the floor. She had a moment to glance at them before I snatched them away.

  “Not in there!” I yelped, grabbing the box from her. I clutched the coffer and the papers to my chest. The formulas were a special part of my inheritance and I wasn’t ready to let anyone see them.

  Lizzy chuckled as she put her hands behind her back as if reprimanded. “Not to worry about the top paper that said Cold Cream Recipe. I’ve forgotten it already.” She grinned mischievously. “Like most real estate people, I have mastered the trick of reading upside down, but I have an awful memory. I couldn’t repeat what the ingredients are.”

  She sighed, leaning against the wall. “It would so fun to help you make that cream. I promise I won’t look at the recipe. I could be your sous-chef?” she begged. “I’ll just stir! I would pay you everything I have, which isn’t much for just one jar of that magic elixir!”

  Part of me knew I shouldn’t risk exposing Nonna’s secret formula to anyone, but my mind wandered to the image of the dancing dolphins. One thing had nothing to do with the other and yet it did. I had a crying need for a friend to have fun with, one with a sense of silly that matched mine. How could it hurt if we made a batch of the magical cold cream as long as I kept control of the recipe?

  Nonna had been known for her intuitive snap decisions. She didn’t mull over things; she just did them. I took after her in many ways. “Nothing can be done that can’t be undone!” she would point her finger to the heavens and jump from adventure to adventure.

  I was ready to throw caution to the sea breeze and agree to make some face cream. when the doorbell rang. Carrying the recipe, I guided the upside-down-reading real estate broker out of Nonna’s office and into the foyer. I peered through the peephole in the front door and saw nothing. Was it a prankster? I opened the door.

  A diminutive lady with silver hair and luminous skin stood on the welcome mat; she was not tall enough to be seen in the peephole. She held an oddly shaped jug in her bird-like hands.

  “Hi, I’m Ivy LaVine. Your grandmother and I were dear friends. I recognize you from your photographs. You’re Olive!” She hugged me with one arm while clutching her jar in the other. She glanced at Lizzy. “You, I don’t know, but you look familiar.”

  Lizzy extended her hand, and Ivy released her grip on me to take Lizzy’s hand. “I’m Lizzy Kelly—List with Lizzy?”

  “Yes! That’s where I know you. I have seen your face on yard signs.” Ivy recovered her hand and hefting the ceramic jar she passed it to me. “Here’s your grandmother!”

  Stunned, I wobbled as I accepted the urn. Ivy caught me off guard and I weakened from the surprise. I thought the funeral home would hold Nonna’s ashes until I decided what to do with them. I hadn’t wanted to think about it. “Come in Ivy. Can I make us some tea?” There must be tea bags in the pantry.

  Ivy hesitated on the threshold. “I’m not ready to sit at Isabella’s table without her—not yet.” She reached out and patted the urn. “She understands. Once we take care of her last request, I would love to take you up on that tea. Here’s a card for you.”

  The little woman handed me a folded note card in my grandmother’s handwriting.

  Darling Olive,

  Let us take one final walk to the seaside.

  Sprinkle my ashes over the waters I love so much.


  Bless you!

  Nonna

  Ivy looked over her shoulder and then at me. “Isabella told me to tell you she wished you to scatter her ashes. We have to do it very early in the morning, as some folks can be rather persnickety. I’ll come by tomorrow say about five a.m. It’s still darkish then.”

  I felt my hands grow tight around the urn; the reality of sending my precious Nonna into the gulf gave me the shivers.

  “Err… rethink the sprinkling. The laws are strict about cremated ashes,” Lizzy said. “It’s illegal to scatter cremains on the beaches. You must take them three miles out to sea.”

  I’m not a sea-going person. The thought of hiring a boat to take Nonna’s ashes over shark-filled waters made my heart race into my throat.

  Ivy’s chuckle sounded like crumpling tissue paper, “Heh, heh. Not to worry. We do it all the time. I have a pretty pink canvas bag with the word SHELLS written in big white letters on the side. We used it for Francie, and Anne, and Eli. We put the urn inside and kind of casual like we stroll the shoreline and grant Isabella’s wish.” She patted my arm. “Are you good for tomorrow morning? The sooner the better. Trust me. I know.”

  A sigh escaped my lips as I clasped Nonna’s urn to my heart. I nodded then thanked Ivy as she left. I took my grandmother’s remains inside, removed one of Sophia’s pictures from a high shelf and replaced it with the urn.

  “It will be fine,” Lizzy stood at my side. “It’s what your Nonna wanted. I’ll go with you if you’d like.”

  “Thank you, Lizzy. I would like that.” I swiped at a tear. “Right now I need to do something comforting. Would you help me brew one of my grandmother’s recipes?”

  If I gave her a million dollars, I don’t think I’d get a bigger smile. She nodded.

  I collected the recipe and letter I left in Nonna’s office and set about hunting up the ingredients. They were discreetly tucked in a box on the shelf behind the spices. I was about to revisit fond memories of helping Nonna make her special cold cream. She never allowed me to see the recipes, but she did permit me to stir.