“Come with me,” Vivian said as she grasped the prospect’s arm, who was also frozen in shock from all the hoopla.

  “N-no, I won’t,” she wailed.

  “I’m sorry ma’am, you have to.”

  “I didn’t mean to take it.”

  “Yes, of course you didn’t,” Vivian gently reassured the woman and then motioned to Lilly to join her.

  “Me? What do I have to do?” Lilly questioned.

  “You saw the whole thing. I need you as a witness. Come on!”

  Lilly panicked, as she had no clue on how she would be of help in this scenario, as she was certainly not qualified. What was she going to do, take laces from a pair of shoes and wrap her wrists with them? Or maybe take a shoe horn and smack her over the head with it?

  “You better go, my dear,” Mr. Sand said sternly, as Lilly followed Vivian with dread. “Want me to come with you, Viv?”

  “I can handle this one.”

  “But I didn’t do anything … it was just a little bottle! You guys aren’t going to miss it!”

  Feeling awful for the woman, Lilly continued to follow Vivian as they both held on to the shoplifter’s arm, luring her down the department store aisle toward the basement door.

  As Lilly opened the door and the three of them walked down the stairs to the basement, where Lilly and Vivian spent their first weeks, cleaning, organizing and paying their dues.

  “Hey, it’s company!” A new girl named Mildred happily announced as she was right in the middle of her initiation of cleaning the nail polish racks. She even began to clap.

  “Calm down, Mildred, it’s not the company you want,” Lilly said as Vivian and the shoplifter walked behind.

  “Sit down,” Vivian instructed the shoplifter. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen,” the young woman said as she sat down on a bench, placed her hands on her knees and sighed, looking down at the floor.

  “Hey, what did you do?” Mildred asked the shoplifter.

  “None of your business—get back to work…,” Vivian said.

  “I was just asking!”

  “Well, I don’t need anyone asking me anything right now … I’m calling the police.” Vivian reached for the basement phone, but before she could dial, the shoplifter got up and began to run up the stairs. Lilly gasped and ran right after her and planted her hands on her shoulders and squeezed them, almost to the point of pinching her skin to make her stop, which she did, while the shoplifter screeched “Yeeeeow!” The two of them remained on the staircase, staring at each other while Lilly yelled “Don’t do that!” Not the most intimidating call to action, but it was all Lilly could think of saying at the spur of the moment.

  “Way to go, Lill!” Vivian said as she continued to hold the receiver while she waited for the police to answer. Lilly grabbed the women’s arm and brought her back to where Vivian was standing. All was fine for about eight seconds until the woman yanked the phone from Vivian’s hand while Lilly clasped the woman’s ear and pinched it until she drew blood. “Yeeeeooooowww!” She screamed again while Vivian grabbed the woman’s arms and yanked them behind her back. As she was squirming which felt like an eternity, Mr. Sand and two security men came fleeting downstairs and took the young woman away. “That was a doozie,” Mildred commented.

  “I will never listen to Frank Sinatra again,” Lilly announced as Vivian sat on the floor gasping for breath.

  All It Takes Is One

  Vivian had a train to catch, and it wasn’t the locomotive kind.

  “Sunderland’s isn’t the only game in town!” Vivian squealed as she tapped her hand on Mr. Sand looked confused while he chewed the tuna sandwich that Vivian brought from home for them to share.

  “I could try and sell the Travel Set to other stores!” Vivian announced as Mr. Sand shook his head beaming. “Good, right?” Vivian asked, while searching for approval.

  “So right,” Mr. Sand said. “Go to it!” He added.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I need to forgo those lunches at Beauty’s. I need the time to sell this baby,” Vivian announced as if she was turning down a party invitation—a party that she really wanted to attend, with a great friend and delicious food.

  “Do what you have to do, my darling,” Mr. Sand reassured her as he patted her on the shoulder.

  Vivian began to work every Saturday so that one day off a week was allocated to calling every department store and small shop listed in the phone book to tell them about the Travel Set, in the hope that they could manufacture it and sell it in their stores.

  She began at 9 a.m. sharp and hogged the home telephone for the entire day. This, of course, did not please Miriam, but thankfully it was only once a week. And of course, Miriam was not giving up her dream for her daughter, finding a husband and becoming a housewife and mother. As Vivian had her list of companies and retail stores by her side in a designated notebook and dialed, Miriam quietly prayed that a nice young Jewish executive would fall in love with her daughter’s sweet voice and ask her out on a date.

  What Vivian heard on the receiving end was not what she, her mother or anyone else expected. After a charming introduction of who she was, where she worked and what she wanted to create, the responses went something like this:

  “Oh, I’ve heard of you! Why don’t you come sell lipsticks for us instead?”

  “Hey, that’s super-duper neat, sweetheart, but I can’t afford to create something like that Right now. Why don’t you give me a call this time, next year?

  “Why are you wasting your time working at Sunderland’s? You really should settle down and get married.”

  And the worst: “You’re so cute!”

  Out of all the comments that was heard on the receiving line, Vivian loathed that one the most. Even though it sounded sweet and didn’t mean any harm, it felt degrading. Cute were babies, puppies, and anything miniature —and she was not any of those things. It seemed as if her enthusiasm shadowed the smart, sophisticated, and wise woman that she was.

  Making those phone calls was no picnic either as it was the exact opposite of working at Sunderland’s, where Vivian was continuously surrounded by customers who hung on to every word she said. It was lonely and was as boring as watching baseball on TV with her father. As she sat at her kitchen table, she choose a store from the telephone book where she reached the main secretary and asked the name and number for every sales manager that would take her call. Then she would take notes from the responses, followed by a good cry in between each rejection.

  Whenever Vivian had a difficult encounter with a customer, Mr. Sand and Lilly were right by her side, for support. And Vivian reciprocated as well, which made a huge difference for their morale. They were a team and it felt comforting to know that after each of them were through with the customer from hell, they would have a good laugh about it in the staff lunchroom.

  At the kitchen table, where Vivian made her phone calls, any type of support system was nil.

  There were no laughs after she had a conversation that made her want to strangle the sales person she was talking to, into a slow and painful death. No encouraging support to pick up the phone to keep going, promising a cookie from the lunch counter as a reward. Nobody cared, but Vivian herself. Her parents cared, but in a different way.

  “Why are you spending your day off working so hard?”

  Vivian had been sharing fashion advice since she could talk. The Travel Set was a fantastic idea that women all over the world needed to have. All it required was for one person to take her seriously. Just one.

  But then life got in the way.

  Marsha got engaged and with this announcement, the world just stopped. At least under the roof where Vivian and her family lived. After Miriam grieved the death of her parents from the Holocaust, that stole a part of her heart, and crushed her faith in humanity, Miriam was left angry and distraught. Taking months to break free from the trance that her parents were gone and years to accept the reality that one man could create such propaganda to try and wipe out an entire race, for no reason at all. The guilt for leaving Europe while her stubborn parents stayed behind weighed heavily on her existence. Thinking she should have remained with her parents so she could have taken care of them. Done something. No, she had to flee like she was being chased by a monster. Which she really was.

  A simcha like a marriage was the perfect medicine to give her hope for the future and to bring her joy.

  And if anyone was going to be in charge of choosing the flowers, buying this dress, matching this nail color to that tablecloth it was going to be Vivian, who took on the role like a duck to water. Obviously.

  “And maybe you’ll meet someone … soon,” her mother said over a whisper, which her daughter heard loud and clear like a foghorn.

  “Oh mother…,” Que eye roll. Some things still didn’t change.

  And then more life got in the way, and the weekly Wednesday phone calls began to decline.

  A new product line came in and Elaine wanted Vivian to manage it, which included all the perks that any salesgirl would dream of. A raise, more bags of samples, invitations to catered 3-course meal lunches at the company’s headquarters were regularly attended where they taught all the cosmeticians the entire line, with a warm welcome to go shopping in their supply room. It was a free for all to take anything they wanted, which made Vivian as happy as a child in a candy store. Taking home two large grocery bags of potions and lotions were huge perks—one for each hand! However, the responsibility for overseeing the line and the opportunity to teach what she learned to all who would listen at the department store made Vivian’s phone calls to sales managers insignificant.

  Any human being who would walk through Sunderland’s double green hunter doors to work or shop would flock to hear what Vivian had to say about the products that she represented. Even the boring businessmen—who raised their eyebrows while they waltzed into the boardroom with their pipes and cigars in hand, were eager to learn a few things.

  Hmph—so now you are listening to me, Vivian would privately mumbled to herself after they applauded her presentation on the proper way to use a certain product to wash one’s face. It was clear that everyone loved to listen to Vivian preach about a product as she did so with great enthusiasm and authenticity, as her whole face would light up like a vase full of fresh flowers.

  These presentations were all in the boardroom before the store would open, using the very same table that she presented on with her Travel Set. Although now, she didn’t have to prove anything. All she had to do was talk about what she loved. And the response was the opposite of what those boring businessmen did on that dreadful day. The opposite of how she was treated as a child in her classroom. If only her angry teacher with the scuffed shoes and rippped stockings could have witnessed all of the applause and appreciation. The colleagues and her devoted customers who took her seriously and looked up to her. Vivian felt that her job was perfect. She got to still work in sales, which she adored and oversee a whole new line. The best of both worlds. With this new perspective, she placed her Travel Set on hold.

  Lilly: That Day

  Several days later, That Day started out as a typical day. But That Day will be remembered—a lesson for anyone that would listen.

  As Lilly’s alarm clock went off at 6:00 a.m., she hit the off button as quickly as possible.

  There was no way on God’s green earth that anyone was going to spoil her precious morning time. It was Saturday, and her children usually slept in until at least nine. Lilly adored this time to herself, just like when she was a child. How she loved to savor her first cup of coffee and a Montreal bagel, toasted, schmeared with cream cheese and topped with smoked salmon, a squirt of lemon, a sliced tomato and a few strands of red onion.

  After stretching her arms out to the sides and swirling her neck around a few times followed by a generous sigh, she got up from her bed and walked to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower and lather her body with Yardley English Lavender Soap, as the scent was calming, while carrying gentle ingredients as it didn’t irritate her skin the way the Palmolive did. After she finished, she gently patted her body with a towel to keep it slightly moist so that it would absorb her generous dollop of Ponds body cream, which she massaged all over her body and face—a luxurious ritual that she reserved just for Saturdays, when the morning routine wasn’t interrupted by getting her three kids out the door and on their way to school. After she zipped up her dress and brushed her hair, she tidied up her room and went downstairs to the kitchen, where she passed by a window.

  It was still dark outside, but that didn’t bother her in the least bit as she looked forward to seeing the sunrise, that would occur momentarily. Lilly descended her steps and reached the front entry of her home. With great force, she opened the front door and a blast of cold wind blew into her face. “Whoa!” she said just above a whisper as she bent down to pick up the paper. She closed the front door and glanced at the front page as she walked into the kitchen. It was November 1952.

  “Will you look at that—news about the Korean War,” Lilly said with a heavy sigh, Lilly skimmed the article and went straight to the fashion section. She had her priorities and war of any kind was not one of them.

  Because Saturday was the shopping day, Lilly wanted to be ready. Who was wearing what and how was it worn? “It” being clothes, makeup, and hair. If you were going to work the sales floor, you had to know the full scoop that was displayed in the newspapers, magazines and on TV. Lilly was always on the lookout as that was what Vivian always encouraged her to do.

  Lilly was over the moon and quite relieved that she had such a fantastic ally and friend in her corner, who not only taught her the ropes, but, most importantly, always had her back. Unbeknownst to Lilly, she was going to need Vivian more than ever that day.

  Brightness appeared in her peripheral vision which lifted her head away from the paper. Ah, the sun is starting to rise! Lilly said to herself as front door window had a strong beam of sunlight coming through it. With her coffee cup in hand, Lilly walked quickly to the living room window where one could watch the sun’s morning debut with a more generous view. Coffee and a sunrise—the best, she thought to herself as she walked back to get her breakfast so that she could eat while watching the show.

  After her last bite and sip Lilly washed her breakfast dishes and went upstairs to her bathroom to brush her teeth. As she was applying her lipstick, the doorbell rang.

  “Oy—shhh!” she said on instinct, as she was afraid to wake the children. She flew downstairs and opened the door to greet her mother, who didn’t have to work at her store that day.

  “Sorry, I’m late!”

  “You’re not late. It’s okay. They’re still sleeping.”

  “Oh, good. Now I can watch them sleep a little. They’re so delicious!”

  “Oh, by the way, they plan on going tobogganing with their friends today.”

  “I’ll make sure they have hot chocolate when they return … with marshmallows.”

  Lilly smiled; she knew that her kids were in great care.

  As her mother took off her coat, she inspected her daughter’s outfit by giving her the once over. “My, you look nice,” she said in a warm tone.

  “Oh, this? Thanks!” Lilly said as she looked down at her skirt. “This skirt is by Cherie—a new Canadian designer! Can you believe it?” Lilly announced proudly.

  “Cherie? As in the Cherie? The designer from Chatelaine Magazine?

  “Tha’s the one!”

  “Well excuse me, fancy lady!”

  “Mother,” Lilly said as she rolled her eyes and waved her hand and laughed and thought about how she became the proud owner of the skirt that she wanted to be buried in.

  Only the chosen few knew that the Cherie skirt that she was wearing was slightly damaged. The top button fell off somewhere in the store and no one could find it. There was quite a story behind how she became its proud owner.

  Lilly had only been working at Sunderland’s for a couple of months, which meant that every day still felt like the first day: new, unfamiliar, and panic mode challenging.

  “WHO left the storage room open?”

  “WHY aren’t you selling more shoes?”

  “WHY aren’t you selling more shoes?”

  Questions like these, especially the last two, were constantly directed at the shoe salespeople, but mostly at Lilly, who’d run her fingers through her hair and exhaled forcefully every time they were. But then, there were times when situations such as the following happened, which made her job feel like a party.

  “Look what I have!” Mr. Sand sang in front of Vivian and Lilly one Monday evening, just before closing.

  “Gasp!” Vivian took a deep breath in as she held her hand to her mouth. “It can’t be!” she added.

  “Oh, yes, it is! Presenting a Cherie skirt!” Mr. Sand said, smiling and swinging the skirt in the air.

  Lilly’s face crinkled in thought. “What’s the big deal? I don’t understand. It’s just a black skirt.”

  “Darling, don’t do that to your face—so bad for the forehead lines,” Vivian suggested.

  Lilly relaxed her face and witnessed the elegant camaraderie dance between Vivian and Mr. Sand. “And … for crying out loud, this, my friend, is not just a skirt. I mean, this beauty,” Vivian breathlessly said.

  “The craftsmanship,” Mr. Sand Said.

  “The details,” Vivian added.

  “So simple,” Mr. Sand said.

  “My gosh, it’s like a trophy,” Lilly commented.

  “Yes! That’s it—bingo!” Vivian agreed and turned to Mr. Sand. “Sigh … I’ve got to have it. How much?”