I taught Sunny that game.
“I’ll be right back, Bevin,” I tell her because she’s the only one who will notice that I’m even gone.
I still have a few hours until the fireworks start. It’s only six, and they usually start around nine. It used to be that the hours before the fireworks were almost as much fun as the fireworks, but now it doesn’t seem to be that way.
I walk across the beach and over to the carousel, and then I just keep walking. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m glad to have a break from everyone.
I keep walking, across the beach parking lot and through the neighborhood, and soon I’m in town, on Ocean Street, right near the pharmacy.
I have my own key, so I let myself in.
This is my family’s store. My store. I’m allowed to be here. I have my own key and I know the alarm code. But even though I tell myself that, I still feel like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to be doing.
I go in and walk around the aisles, seeing if there’s anything that needs straightening. But everything looks neat and tidy and perfect.
Now that Tory and Charise are back, Grandma doesn’t even do her daily inspection of the aisles, giving me lists of what to work on. She knows the store will look perfect. Even the office is neat.
I wonder what Gary and Bevin have done to the upstairs apartment, but I know I can’t go up and look. I’m sure they lock it anyway, and they have their own entrance at the back of the building, so they don’t always have to walk through the store.
When I’m done inspecting the pharmacy, I go over to the spa.
The construction is nearly done. One of the treatment rooms has pink walls and one has green, and the entryway has pink and green stripes on the walls. The space where the reception area will be is all cleaned out and we’re just waiting for the furniture to be delivered.
Toward the back there will be a rejuvenation area, where people can wait for their treatments. We’ll have pitchers of water with fruit pieces floating in them and serene music playing. And we’ll have robes that say PINK & GREEN on them. We’ll have organic fruits if people get hungry, and the towels we’re getting are made from some recycled materials.
At least I hope we will. That’s how I envisioned all of this. But then I remember that envisioning something and something actually happening is really different. I feel like somehow I got off the path of planning the spa, and now I can’t get back on.
It’s strange how things can get off track so quickly. Like somehow I got replaced as Sunny’s best friend, and somehow forgot how to act around Yamir, and somehow got replaced as Claudia’s sidekick.
Somehow all of these things changed all at once, and now I don’t know how to fix them.
I take one of the rolling desk chairs out of the interview room and roll myself through the spa area. Think, Lucy, think. I can do this. Because it’s not enough to just have your own chair, you need to actually do something with that chair.
I look at my watch. It’s already seven thirty. I’ll stay here a half hour longer and then I’ll go back to the beach. I don’t want to wait too long or I’ll never be able to make my way through the crowds to find our blanket.
As I’m rolling around the spa area, I notice that the high chair for hair and makeup is unpacked from its plastic wrapping. It’s probably weird to say this, but this chair is beautiful. It’s white porcelain with brass finishes, and the seat cushion is a navy blue corduroy. Mom, Grandma, and I picked it out as soon as we found out we got the grant and that Gary was investing.
It was one of the first things we did. And it was so much fun. We spent a whole Saturday night poring over the spa supplier catalogs Mom had ordered and we each picked out three chairs and then we narrowed down our choices and we voted.
It was unanimous. This was our chair.
It felt so real and exciting, like things were actually happening.
I quickly glance around just to make sure no one is looking in the window, and once I see that the coast is clear, I climb up in the chair, adjust the headrest, and sit back. From this high chair, I can see everything—the whole street, all the stores, people walking by. It’s like a lighthouse in Old Mill, but my very own.
I look at my watch again. OK, it’s almost eight. I really need to go back.
I’m climbing down from the chair backward (I’ve never been able to go down ladders facing front; I’m too much of a scaredy cat) when I hear sobs.
Uh-oh. I’ve been discovered.
I sneak around the chair and hide behind it. But the sobs keep getting louder, and then I realize I’m such a dummy because I’ve left all the lights on in the spa area. It’s not even that dark out yet, I didn’t need lights, but I left them on.
“Are, um, are—are—are you open?” I hear someone say through sobs. It sounds like a girl, but it could be a young boy. Bevin? I’m not really sure. I stay quiet. Maybe this person will just go away if no one answers.
“Hello? Anyone?”
I peek around the chair, but I still can’t see the person. I have no idea what I should do. I’m not really supposed to work the cash register. Maybe I could convince the person to come back tomorrow to buy what they need. Only what if they have some sort of emergency?
I don’t know what to do. But I need to be fast because I’m going to miss the fireworks.
“Hello?” the person says again, still sobbing.
“Hello!” I pop out from the chair like some kind of weird clown in one of those jack-in-the-box toys.
“Oh!” the lady screams. “I didn’t see you there. Um, OK. Well, are you, um, open?” She’s just standing there, sobbing, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her pale blue oxford shirt. She’s thin with long blond hair and very short khaki shorts. She looks like a model, in a way. But a very sad model.
“Not really.” I clench my teeth. “But I’m sure we’ll have what you need tomorrow, if you come back then. OK?”
“You’re not a spa?” She talks and cries at the same time. “I thought I read about you in the local paper, some interview with someone. Am I wrong? Oh, I’m so tired, I can’t remember anything.”
I pull over the other rolling chair and motion for her to take a seat. I don’t know what else to do.
“No, you’re right. We are a spa, but we’re expanding, so we’re not like officially open, but maybe I can help you anyway?” This lady looks so pathetic that I don’t even know what to do. How can someone so pretty look so pathetic?
Finally she sits down in the chair and rests her face in her palms, and starts massaging her eyebrows, like she’s trying to relieve the tension.
“OK.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “When will you be open?”
I can’t help her if she doesn’t tell me what’s wrong. I wish she’d just tell me, but I don’t want to pressure her. Also, I don’t know how to explain to her that it’s already after eight and I really need to get back to the beach for the fireworks.
Anyone and everyone in Old Mill and the surrounding towns knows about the Fourth of July fireworks. She must not be from here. She must be new.
There must be more to her story.
“We’re opening officially Labor Day weekend—it’s this huge weekend around here, called Boat Fest. Everyone has their boats out. There are street fairs, a carnival on the beach, amazing food. It’s the best weekend ever.” I smile and try to get her to smile too, but she still looks really, really sad.
“Labor Day weekend?” She perks up, finally.
I nod. “It’s really not that far away. After the Fourth of July, it always seems like the summer is over, doesn’t it?” I realize that was an idiotic thing to say. That it will only depress her more, and now I feel depressed too.
“OK.” She’s nodding slowly like she’s figuring something out. She smiles at me, stands up, and walks over to the window. She takes her phone out of her pocket and hits a few buttons. She says into the phone, “I found a place. OK? But please don’t treat me like that
again.” She pauses. “Mom, why do you have to do that? Don’t you see it’s my day?” She pauses again and keeps opening her mouth but not saying anything, like the person on the other end won’t let her get a word in.
Finally, after a few more minutes of that, she hangs up.
“OK, I need to book you guys for the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. Eight bridesmaids, one bride, one mother of the bride, and one mother of the groom.” She looks down at her phone again. “Makeup. Hair. Nails. Whatever else people do.”
It occurs to me that this girl never goes to spas, never has her hair done, never does any of this.
“We can do that.” I get her name, her number, and all of her info.
“Thank you so much,” she says. “And your sign is amazing.”
“Our sign?” I ask.
She walks outside and I follow her. “Yeah.” She points up. “Your sign.”
I hadn’t even seen it yet. I came in the side door to the pharmacy, from the neighborhood, not through town.
But it’s there. Our beautiful sign.
PINK & GREEN
THE SPA AT OLD MILL PHARMACY
The PINK part is in pink and the GREEN part is in green, obviously, and it looks so beautiful and perfect and wonderful.
“You don’t understand how glad I am that I found you,” the girl says once we’re back inside. “I don’t even read the local paper ever, but I am so glad I did. My parents just bought a place here, and they’re throwing the wedding for us in their yard, which is like ten acres, and they’re being so impossible. Not letting Owen and me have a say in anything. And my mom is just …” She curls her lips inside and starts crying again. “She just can’t understand it’s not about her, and I know she’s excited, but it’s just so stressful.”
I nod. “It’ll be OK.” I put a hand on her shoulder. I don’t know what else to say. I mean, I could figure it out, but right now I really just want to see the fireworks.
I love helping people. And so I feel selfish for thinking this, but I need to see the fireworks.
“Hey, I have an idea!” I start turning off the lights in the spa. “Come with me to the fireworks! Do you know there are fireworks tonight?”
“I don’t know anything.” She shakes her head. “I just got in today. And the first thing my mom said was how disappointed in me she was that I hadn’t booked a spa for the wedding.”
I nod. This woman clearly feels the need to share all of her family’s dirty laundry with me. And I love helping people with their problems, but not now. “OK, this will cheer you up! Come with me.” I make sure all the lights are turned off, and the alarm is back on, and we leave the spa.
We’re walking back to the beach with exactly fifteen minutes to spare. We may not make it back to my family’s blanket, but we’ll make it back to the benches on the boardwalk. And I’ll text Claudia and say I ran into some people, so my family doesn’t worry.
As we’re walking, I realize that I just wrote down this girl’s name for the appointments and I already forgot it. That’s embarrassing.
“I’m so sorry, but your name just slipped my mind,” I say. “I’m Lucy. Did I tell you that already?”
She laughs. “You did. But don’t worry. I’m Sarabeth.”
“Pretty name,” I say.
We get back to the beach and I see immediately it’s going to be hectic to get back to our blankets.
I text Claudia.
Ran into ppl from Hebrew school. see u after fireworks. Xo
I had to say Hebrew school because if I said regular school, Claudia would tell Sunny, Evan, and Yamir and they’d never believe me or they’d need to know who it was.
She texts back.
Have fun.
Sarabeth and I find a seat on the benches and we sit together and watch the fireworks.
It isn’t at all how I expected to spend the Fourth of July, but it’s good.
It seems like I’m on the right track to feeling like myself again.
Mom yelps as soon as she sees me waiting by the car. The beach is walking distance from the pharmacy, but not from our house, and even if it were, there was no way we could’ve walked with all the chairs and food and stuff we brought.
“I texted Claudia.” I shoot my sister a look, but she’s too busy playing with Bean’s hair to notice. “I ran into some people from Hebrew school. So we hung out by the benches and got some Dairy Queen.”
I am totally planning on telling them about Sarabeth and all the business I just brought in for opening weekend, but now doesn’t seem to be the time. Grandma and Gary are struggling to get all the chairs back in the trunk and Bevin is begging her dad for an ice cream. And Claudia is still playing with Bean’s hair. Can’t he just get a haircut already?
“Oh, but Sunny, Evan, and Yamir were with us,” she says like she knows something’s up. “Yamir even asked me where you were.” There’s a clump of sand on the pavement and she swishes it around with her shoe when she asks me that. She doesn’t want to embarrass me; I can tell.
“Oh.” I shrug. “Yeah, I ran into some other kids. They don’t know them.” My mom probably knows I’m lying since I’m not saying the other kids’ names, but she doesn’t push it.
Gary and Bevin take their car (an amazing convertible) back to the pharmacy apartment and the rest of us pile into our car. Mom and Grandma get the front, and then Bean, Claudia, and I sit in the back.
“Yamir looked really upset that you just disappeared, Luce,” Claudia says, nudging me with her elbow. At least she’s the one in the middle seat this time and I don’t need to sit next to bony Bean.
I don’t know what to say. If I act excited, Claudia will continue talking about it and embarrass me further. If I don’t say anything, she’ll ask me a million questions about what’s going on.
“He was just trying to make conversation,” I say finally. “I texted him and told him I was hanging out with some other people.”
Claudia glares at me. “I don’t think so. They didn’t seem to have any idea where you were. Even Sunny. Seems super-weird.”
“Whatever, Claudia. You’re super-weird for just bringing your boyfriend home and not telling anyone.”
“Lucy!” Mom yells from the front seat. “Enough. Let’s have quiet for the rest of the ride.”
If I had a penny for every time I’ve heard my mom say that, I’d be rich. For real.
We get home and Grandma asks if any of us want a cup of tea. I say yes only because I know Mom will say yes and I want a chance to sit and talk with them about Sarabeth.
We all change into pajamas and settle in the den. Bean has Claudia’s Old Mill High School sweatshirt on and it looks so bizarre on him. I wish he could just wear his own sweatshirt, but apparently he borrowed it once and decided it was the most comfortable sweatshirt he’d ever worn. I wish every single thing he did didn’t annoy me so much. He could end up being my brother-in-law one day, and I don’t think it’s good to hate your brother-in-law.
“Ah, another wonderful Fourth of July,” Grandma says, putting her feet up on the leather ottoman. “There’s something about the Fourth of July that feels empowering, isn’t there?”
She looks at all of us.
“Well, if you’re into that patriotic stuff,” Mom says. “Truthfully, I’d like to see the Fourth of July become a day of service where we help those less fortunate in our communities.”
I agree with what Mom’s saying, but why can’t we just leave a good thing alone for a minute? Fireworks, hot dogs, the beach. I mean, it’s perfect as it is. Let’s just enjoy it.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to change the topic. “So, actually, I’m sorry to say this, but I lied.”
Everyone gasps; Grandma gasps the loudest and covers her mouth. Sheesh. I can’t even imagine what she thinks I’m about to say. Lying is a big no-no in our family, but still.
“No, not about anything crazy. I haven’t, like, dropped out of school.” I laugh, but no one else does, so I go on. “But I mean, I li
ed about tonight. I wasn’t with some kids from Hebrew school.”
“Shocking!” Claudia says, and rolls her eyes. I wonder where she thinks I was. I should’ve been putting up posters searching for a new sister!
I ignore her and turn to face Mom and Grandma, sitting together on the smaller couch. “I walked over to the pharmacy, just to clear my thoughts, and then a customer came in.”
“Lucy, how many times have I asked you not to mess with the cash register?” Grandma says, all frustrated. No one in my family ever even gives me a chance to finish a sentence!
“I didn’t use the cash register.” I pause and wait for her to say something, and I can see her mouth opening to interrupt me again. “Will you please let me finish my story?”
They nod.
“Promise?”
“Just go on, Lucy,” Claudia says.
Bean keeps burning his tongue on the tea and then making this ridiculous over-the-top expression. It’s kind of funny but also distracting.
“So I was in the spa area, and this really frazzled woman came in. Her parents just bought this mansion summer home here, and that’s where they’re having the wedding, and this woman needed to find a place to do hair and makeup for her, the bridesmaids and the moms and everyone the day of the wedding.”
“When’s the wedding?” Bean asks. “Because my manicuring skills really aren’t up to snuff yet.”
Claudia hits him on the arm.
“Ow,” he says, and then starts rubbing the spot.
“It’s Labor Day weekend, Bean.” I shoot eye-daggers at him. “So we have plenty of time. And that’s our grand opening! And we have this huge wedding party! For hair and makeup.”
I stand up and take a bow. “No applause. Thank you. No applause.”
They laugh, but it sounds a little forced.
“That’s really wonderful, Lucy,” Grandma says. “I’m sorry I thought you were monkeying with the cash register. I’m glad you found these clients.”
“Me too,” I say. “So I didn’t start telling her about how I do the makeup and everything. She seemed so frazzled and upset that I just booked the appointments and then we walked down to the beach and watched the fireworks together.”
My Summer of Pink & Green Page 6
