Free My Secret Guide to Paris by Lisa Schroeder Page B

imagine anything more wonderful.
    We stopped in front of a shop called Clair de Rêve, the name painted on a large, colorful sign in primary colors. In the window were all kinds of marionettes. There was a clown wearing a plaid jacket and a red hat, a rabbit with long ears and glasses, and even one made out of wood with a long nose that I knew right away was meant to be Pinocchio.
    Another shop I loved was called Pylones. The front window displayed large yellow and orange flowerpots, turned upside down. On top of each pot were all kinds of fun things, like miniature teapots and watering cans and strange little animals that begged to be picked up. The entire window seemed to scream to us, Come in and play! , so we went in and looked around. Phoebe couldn’t resist a little ladybug stapler, and I bought a cool dragon pen. I’d never seen so much imagination put into ordinary objects to make them fun and unique. As we left, Phoebe pointed out a list of other store locations, and I couldn’t believe it when I saw “New York City.” In that moment, I had the urge to tell Grandma about the discovery. I could just see her smile and hear her telling me that we’d be sure to visit the next time we were together in Manhattan.
    I let myself feel sad for a minute, because I couldn’t tell Grandma Sylvia anything and there wouldn’t be a “next time.” Eventually, Phoebe and I went on our way. I was beginning to see that grief was a lot like a rainy day. Sometimes the sadness was like a light mist around me, while other times it poured, mean and fierce. During the downpours, all I could do was hold on and remember that rain doesn’t last forever, even if it seems that way sometimes.
    Along with the various boutiques, there were cafés, restaurants, cheese shops, and bakeries. Anything you wanted to eat, you could find on Île Saint-Louis. Again and again, we stopped outside bakeries to admire the sweet treats in the window. Tarts and cakes became little pieces of art, decorated so beautifully, it seemed like it would be hard to take a bite. My mouth watered as we stepped inside one of the bakeries and looked into the glass cases at the little apple, apricot, and berry tarts, the fresh fruit dusted with powdered sugar on top of a custard-filled crust.
    “How do people live here and not weigh three hundred pounds?” I whispered to Phoebe as we stepped back outside.
    “They walk a lot,” Phoebe said with a smile.
    We finally made our way to Yamina, which had a sign with the name spelled out in bright orange letters. The storefront was painted the pretty color of a robin’s egg. Fashionably dressed mannequins were on display in the front window.
    I stood there, frozen, staring at the place.
    “Come on,” Phoebe said. “Let’s go meet Marie.”
    “I don’t know if I can,” I said.
    “Why not?”
    “Phoebe, look at me. I didn’t inherit my grandma’s great eye for fashion. Once in a while she tried to teach me about style or whatever, but I just didn’t care that much. If only I had, so I wouldn’t be embarrassed right now.”
    “Let me ask you this. If your grandmother was here, and you were meeting her for dinner tonight, what would you say if she asked you about visiting this shop? Would you really want to tell her you were too embarrassed to go inside?”
    “She would have understood. Anyway, she’s not here. And if she were, then I could ask her to take me shopping and teach me all the things I should have learned earlier. It’s not fair that she left me alone to do this.”
    Phoebe put her arm around me and guided me toward the front door. “You’re not alone, you silly goose. I’m with you.”
    I put my hand in my pocket and fingered the plaid button as I reminded myself that today was all about having fun. I told myself to just breathe and relax, and everything would be okay.
    We stepped onto the blue-and-orange-tiled floor and scanned the room. The first thing I noticed was that every person in Yamina