We are out of the house by
nine, on our way to a Frette sample sale.
We buy nothing. Next stop is a Bindya sample sale. There, we
spend two hours trying on every imaginable scarf, ranging from $10 to $50. Jean unearths the nicest one and buys it,
along with a scarf for her daughter Sally.
I debate between two before deciding I need neither and leave
empty-handed.
We meet Valerie at Saks and
have a ladies lunch. Our table overlooks
the iconic Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
I feel very grown up eating with the coiffed uptown crowd. We all get salads, but can’t resist one order
of fries.
After lunch, I convince Jean
to make one stop in crowded midtown, and she agrees. We go to Zara’s, a store that looks like it
belongs on Fifth Avenue with prices that don’t.
Jean buys a couple of T shirts and an elegant white chiffon blouse.
It’s four o’clock and feels
like eleven. We debate calling it a day,
but decide not to. We head downtown to
the West Village where Jean has never been.
A few subway stops later and we are transported from touristy midtown to
a quiet world that feels like 19th century New York.
We stroll around, walking
into small stores that look interesting.
After awhile, Jean suggests stopping for tea. So we go on a mission looking for a small
bakery that serves tea and pastry.
Instead, we find a more perfect place:
We are back at my apartment
by 7, exhausted. Rather than go to a
screening, or even have a nice dinner out, we go to a local pizza place for a
couple of slices. They are so good that
Jean kindly says, “I am enjoying this dinner as much as the one last night.”
I can’t remember ever having
a better time with my sister. We never run
out of conversation. We laugh a lot, we share personal stories, and together we
find things to love about this city. We
are already talking about Jean’s next visit.
While we don’t have a date yet, I know with certainty it won’t take
eight years.
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