Cover art by Erin Halfelven
©2026, SammyC

After finishing the last bite of the buttered toast from our room service breakfast and kissing Dad on his forehead (he was surprised but smiled broadly at me), I actually skipped down the three flights of stairs to the lobby, excited by the prospect of a day of clothes shopping on Fifth Avenue in New York City, courtesy of Elena, Jeremy’s grandmother.

“Oh, my heavens, you really are in need of a new wardrobe!” Elena laughed when she saw me. I was wearing what I thought was the best outfit I could put together from my trove of clothes, intended as they were for a teenage boy, not Jack Ace’s female assistant. On top I was proudly presenting the Rolling Stones 1972 American Tour t-shirt that featured their famous “tongue and lips” logo. Dad had purchased it for me since there was no point in time this summer where The Stones and I would be geographically compatible. The shirt was neatly tucked into a pair of belted, bell-bottom blue jeans. The white Nike sneakers on my feet completed my ensemble.

“I think I look great,” I replied, smiling impishly. Elena hugged me in greeting and then traced the crook of her index finger along my cheek.

“I’m not referring to your pretty face, dear. Those clothes just won’t do for such a comely teenage girl who dazzles everyone with her beauty on stage every night.”

“I think you need new glasses, Elena. But, where’s Jeremy? I thought he was coming along with us.”

“He’s outside in the car. We’re driving down to the city. Come.” She took my hand. We emerged from the lobby out into the morning sun and there was Jeremy on the curb, standing next to a 1969 burgundy Chrysler Imperial, the type of luxury car I’d never ridden in.

“Good morning ladies. Your coach awaits.” Jeremy held open the door to the rear seat, beckoning to us with his left hand.

“It’s a few years old but still runs well,” Elena told me, misinterpreting the reason my mouth was agape.

After we had been on the road for a few minutes, Jeremy halfway turned toward me in the back seat.

“Don’t worry, Lindsey, I have a valid New York State driver’s license. I took and passed the driver education course when I turned 17 in February.” He laughed.

“Jeremy’s a very good driver, dear. No worries,” Elena reassured.

“Just keep your eyes on the road, Jeremy. I won’t worry if you keep your head pointed forward.” I turned to Elena. “How long a drive is it to the city? I have to get back in time for the first show tonight.”

“I’ve made this trip several times already this summer,” Jeremy interjected, turning his head toward us again. “I can get it down to an hour and a half easy if I switch over to the Palisades Parkway when we reach Exit 2 on US-6.”

“You’re turning your head again!”

“Silly girl, we’re in good hands. Jeremy drives me everywhere and we haven’t been in a fatal accident yet—”

“What about non-fatal accidents?” I smiled to show Elena I was just joking.

“Now, here’s our itinerary for you big day of shopping in the big city,” Elena enthusiastically began. “We’ll only need to stop at one place. A high-end department store that will provide all your wardrobe needs. They’re especially good with Juniors and Teens clothing—”

“Oh, Bloomingdales?”

“No, better than that. You deserve the best, my dear. We’re going to Ross & Stone on Fifth Avenue.”

“My grandfather, who passed 3 years ago, opened the store in the 1920s with his childhood friend Bernard Stone. They grew up together in Alba, Romania and immigrated to America as teenagers,” intoned Jeremy, keeping his head in its forward position.

I stroked Elena’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Elena. I didn’t know.” She nodded and patted my hand on her arm.

“Bernard Stone, né Stein, was my older brother. He sent for me after he and Jeremy’s grandfather got settled and started their business. I had always been infatuated with my Jacob, even though he was six years older. That, and it was a gift from God to be able to leave Transylvania—”

“Transylvania?! Isn’t that where Dracula was from? And…and vampires and witches?”

“Yes, that is true. But there’s nothing to fear from Romanian witches. We call them vrăjitoare. For centuries untold they’ve been called upon to heal people from heartbreaks, cure illnesses and diseases, place curses on evil-doers, predict the future… They are good people.”

“It’s just a load of…folklore, Lindsey,” Jeremy declared. “And Bram Stoker wasn’t a historian. Just a writer of Gothic novels—"

“Jeremy is not a believer,” Elena said, shaking her head.

“Are you?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” she replied, her dark eyes twinkling. “But to the matter at hand! I’ve come up with a list of the things you’ll need to fill out your wardrobe for the summer.” She took out a small notebook from her purse and licked her thumb before paging through it. “Ah, here we are. You will need: 5-7 sets of tops and bottoms that can be mixed and matched, including 3 pairs of pants and 2 skirts, 5 sets of bras and panties, 2 pairs of tights, 3 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of pajamas (for comfortable sleep…it gets bloody hot even in the mountains here), 2 pairs of shoes and a pair of sandals (you can keep those sneakers), a sweater (just in case), 2 nice dresses for evening events and formal occasions…and, oh yes, a bathing suit—”

“Oh, no. I can’t. I just can’t, “ I protested.

“And why not?”

“Well, I…I can’t swim. I never learned. My parents never taught me. In fact, I take baths in a shallow tub.”

“I can see you in a bikini, Lindsey. Quite a vision—” Jeremy whistled.

“We can revisit this later in the day, my dear. You don’t have to actually go into the pool. You can just take in the sun poolside,” Elena pointed out.

“I burn very easily. I have very fair skin…”

“So nice to have you drop in on us, Mrs. Ross,” the tall, patrician-looking woman said as she greeted us on the second floor Juniors & Teens department in Ross & Stone, a store that took up the entire corner of a city block at Fifth Avenue and East 48th Street. “And nice to see you as well, Jeremy. Who do we have here today? Another member of the Ross family?”

“Mary, this is my new little friend, the lovely Lindsey Azoff. She’s the assistant to her father, Jack Ace, the magician who’s playing the Lodge this summer. We’re here to fill out her wardrobe. She’ll need everything.”

“Oh, goodness, did she lose her luggage?”

“No. I’ve decided that she needs an entirely new look now that she’s performing in front of audiences on a nightly basis. You can see she’s a natural beauty. Now she just needs to clothe that form in the most flattering manner possible. I’m sure that we can provide that for her.”

“Do you have her sizes or shall we do a fitting?”

“Oh, no need. I’ve been in this business for decades. Long enough to determine her sizes with a cursory glance.”

“Very good. Where do you want to start, Mrs. Ross?”

“Lindsey, I don’t think you’ve had the exquisite pleasure of wearing silk next to your body. Come, child, to Lingerie and Intimates!”

I was still trying to wrap my head around Elena’s insistence that my bra size was 34 B when I didn’t have enough flesh to even fill an A cup. She just winked at me and placed her finger on her lips to quiet my protests. She clucked her tongue and said, as an aside to the saleslady, “These tomboys will someday realize they need support when this braless look isn’t as flattering as they imagine.” The saleslady gave me a knowing smile.

But, with Jeremy literally holding the bag, we moved to the section where Elena went through the racks to mix and match tops and bottoms to her satisfaction. Not mine, necessarily. At the end of almost an hour, I had tried on enough blouses, slacks, and skirts to clothe Marcia Brady for an entire season of The Brady Bunch. Elena had a penchant for picking out plaid slacks, floral pattern skirts, and bow collar blouses. All of which I resisted by vigorously shaking my head even as Elena made me model each outfit upon emerging from the fitting room. To no avail. Each approved outfit was added to the growing pile of shopping bags that Jeremy was eyeing with dismay.

“Don’t I have a say in what we’re buying?”

“Asking you for your opinion would be as useless as asking Jeremy. Trust me, Lindsey, I did this as a job for decades before you were even born.”

“I’m grateful, Elena, but I’d prefer not to look like a teenage version of Rita Hayworth.”

“Where to next, Gran? Those outfits really looked great on you, Lindsey,” Jeremy added as he hefted the multiple shopping bags in both arms.

“Put those down, Jeremy. It’s past twelve. Time for lunch. Just give those over to Veronica and she’ll hold them for us until we come back from lunch.”

“Where are we having lunch?” I asked, hunger pangs growing.

“Peacock Alley at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Just four blocks away on Park Avenue. I made a reservation for 12:30. Ready for a brisk walk, my dear?”

An hour later we made the return trip back to Ross & Stone, lunch having been digested. I had wanted to order the same thing Jeremy did, a Black Angus Burger with Swiss Cheese, Onion, and Marmalade. Elena vetoed it, chiding me about watching my figure (which made Jeremy smile broadly). Instead, she ordered salads for both of us. A Cobb salad for her and a Caesar salad for me. At least hers had some meat in it.

The next item on Elena’s agenda was a dress or two for evening events or social occasions. Nice dresses were in a different department on another floor. Jeremy trailed us on the escalator, burdened with my clothing selections once again after our lunch respite. This time I was going to insist on having some input on deciding what I was going to have to wear. No loud plaids or oversized bows.

It took over an hour to wear Elena down but I was pretty happy with the two dresses I chose. The first one was what Elena told me was an A-line dress with a V-neck and ruffle sleeves that had buttons all the way down the front. It was lavender in color and the hem landed just an inch or two above the tops of my knees. Very prim and proper. And adult.

My second selection was a knee-length tunic dress with a floral print skirt and solid blue top. It had a Peter Pan collar and side pockets. I loved the side pockets! It took several minutes before Elena nodded her head in approval. She was hoping I’d choose the yellow dress with a bow that covered the entire front.

There were two more items left on Elena’s list as the day dragged into late afternoon. Elena and I compromised on the footwear issue. She picked out a pair of patent leather Mary Janes with low heels that made me feel like I was in 6th grade. I campaigned for a pair of knee-high dark brown vinyl boots, like the ones I’d seen Carly Simon wear. Elena gave me the fisheye but relented. Finally, I scored a pair of T-strap buckle sandals with chunky heels in beige.

“Oh, my goodness, we won’t have time for high tea at The Waldorf,” Elena sighed, looking at her $1,500 Van Cleef & Arpels yellow gold watch. “Just enough time to pick out a bathing suit for you, darling.”

“Uh…derp? Will we make it back in time? The show starts at 7 sharp…”

“This I gotta see,” said Jeremy as he stepped onto the escalator behind Elena and me, partially hidden by the bags he was carrying.