“Oh, I hate my hair, it’s so frizzy. And I can’t straighten it because I’m allergic to the stuff.”

“It would be a crime to straighten that hair. I’d give anything for your hair. It’s like . . . like three-dimensional black lace.” She grabbed Susan’s hand and gave her a yank. “We’re going in!”

As they stepped through the door, Rose knew immediately that they were in vintage heaven. It was stuffed with Old Souls clothing and furniture.

There were several racks of lace things ranging from curtains to dresses. She speedily pushed through the racks, murmuring as she slid the hangers. “No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . YES!” She pulled out a faintly yellowed long lace gown with a high collar.

“It’s beautiful!” Rose exclaimed. “You don’t find this kind of lace anymore.”

“But look, it has a huge stain on the skirt.”

“Who cares about the skirt? It’s the top part. Those are leg-of-mutton sleeves.”

“What?”

“It’s a kind of sleeve that’s puffy at the top. I guess it’s supposed to look like a woolly sheep’s leg, and the bodice is beautiful.”

“But what about the rest of it? The skirt?”

“We cut that off and use it for something else. But this top will make a beautiful blouse. You’re getting bat mitzvah’d, aren’t you?”

“Yes, in March.”

“I see this matched with a gorgeous velvet skirt, and chunky shoes with maybe satin ribbons that tie over the top.”

“Velvet?” a voice shouted out. An adorable little lady came bustling around the end of the rack. “I’m Elsie, the Old Soul, in other words the proprietor.” Elsie hardly reached Rose’s shoulder. “We have it over there on the far wall. Twenty-five linear feet of 1930s velvet evening gowns—very old-style Hollywood.”

“Let’s go!” Susan said. Aaah! thought Rose. She’s getting into the spirit of things!

By the time they left the store, they had the lace dress, which Elsie originally asked twelve dollars for, but Rose talked her down to seven. Their most expensive purchase was the ice-blue velvet evening gown for twenty dollars, which they would literally split, both the cost and the dress. The bottom half for Susan, the top for Rose. Rose would make her a soft skirt to go with the lace blouse and then she would do something cool with the top for herself. There was also a beautiful black lace dress that Rose spotted—a perfect match for Susan’s hair—but Rose couldn’t persuade her to buy it.

Elsie came over. “It is a lovely gown. Got it at an estate sale. You know, common folk in Merry Old couldn’t wear lace like this.”

“Merry Old?” Rose felt her heart race.