Sisterchicks on the Loose (10 page)

“Please tell Penny we made something for you that is a nice chocolate. I hope you will like it.”

“I’m sure we will. Thank you.”

I lifted one of the silver domes and found a delicious looking omelette and a parfait glass filled with a swirled chocolate dessert and topped with a Finnish flag on a toothpick.

Penny opened the bathroom door. “Did the food come?”

“Yes, and wait until you see it. Our first meal in the land of your ancestors, and it came complete with a Finnish flag!”

“As long as it includes chocolate,” Penny said, “I’m sure it will be memorable!”

A
fter enjoying our room service banquet
so late on that first night, we weren’t sleepy. Penny decided to organize her clothes in the closet and dresser drawers. I turned on the television, and the two of us wearily sat on the edge of the bed with our jaws slack, flipping through the channels and not understanding a single word.

Around two in the morning, Penny decided we should call home to let our families know we arrived safely. On the West Coast our kids were just coming home from school. I talked to Kaylee and Josh for a quick five minutes and told them to tell their dad everything was fine with me. Josh asked why I hadn’t called yesterday, and I tried to explain the time change and the long flight.

My tenderhearted ten-year-old said, “Mom, could you call us every day when we get home from school? Then I won’t miss you so much.”

“Honey, it’s the middle of the night here. I won’t be able to call you every day at this time because normally I’ll be asleep.
I’m awake now because we just got here a little while ago, and we’re still up.”

“Oh. Well, can you call us other times?”

“Sure. I’ll call you whenever I can, okay?”

“Okay. Mom, can we eat the rest of the cake?”

“What cake?”

“Gramma Gloria brought a cake over yesterday, but I didn’t get any ‘cuz Dad said I had to do my spelling homework first, but after I did it, he said it was too late, and I had to go to bed.”

I was glad to hear that my mother-in-law was feeling well enough to bake a cake and bring it to my family. “Is your homework done for today, Josh?”

“Mom, it’s Friday.”

“Oh. How did you do on your spelling test?”

“Not good. But could I still have some cake?”

I couldn’t remember a time I ever had parented like this over the phone. I was the one who always was home. Monitoring snacks and helping with homework was my career.

“Yes, you may have a piece of cake. And Josh?”

“No, Mom, it’s me, Kaylee. Josh went to get some cake.”

So much for my son’s missing me!

“Are you and Aunt Penny having fun yet?”

I had to think about my answer. Had any of this trip actually been fun yet?

“It’s been an adventure,” I told her.

“Do you think Dad would let me have a few of my friends stay over tonight?”

“How many is a few?”

“Just four. Rachel, Laurel, Sarah, and Emma.”

“What did your dad say?”

“I didn’t ask him yet. I thought if you said it was okay, then he wouldn’t mind.”

“Kaylee, you need to ask Dad. He’s coordinating all the schedules while I’m gone.”

“But you always say yes.”

“Dad will probably say yes, too. But you need to ask him.”

Kaylee sighed. “Okay. Well, I hope you guys have fun.”

“Thanks, honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

Penny talked with her kids much longer than I did. She asked for specifics about their homework and Nicole’s practice for a play she was in at church. Penny gave them all kinds of details about our trip, including the sick baby, my lost luggage, and our deluxe hotel room.

I realized I hadn’t told my kids anything about what had been happening with me. I wondered if I never had specifics to talk about in my daily routine at home, and therefore they were used to everything being centered on them.

Penny’s kids seemed to be more involved in her life. Was that because she had more of a life than I did? Or was it because she opened up more to her kids? What would Kaylee have said if I told her I threw away my clothes? It didn’t seem like a topic worthy of pricey long distance phone minutes. But then, what had we discussed with those pricey minutes? Cake and friends coming over.

I remembered when our kids were babies and Penny would come to me for advice on everything. I liked being the expert. My first two were born before her Noah arrived, so I had plenty of advice when it came to diaper rash and preparing children for the first day of kindergarten. As I listened to Penny relating so openly with her three kids on the phone, I thought I
could learn a few things from her. In all our years of friendship, I’m not sure I ever had that thought before.

Is it possible that arrogance can masquerade as being “more experienced”? Did I think all these years that I was better than Penny simply because I didn’t have all the childhood and teen stuff to get over?

That was the last thought I had before falling into a deep sleep. When I woke the next morning, it was nearly noon.

Penny was propped up in bed reading her Bible. When she saw I was looking at her, trying to focus my bleary eyes, she pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head and giggled. “Guess where we are, Sharon? We’re in Helsinki!”

I smiled. Then I remembered my lost luggage and frowned. “Do you think it’s too early for me to call the airport about my luggage?”

Penny gave me a sympathetic look. “I called an hour ago. I didn’t think you would mind; you were sleeping so deeply.”

“What did they say?”

Penny shook her head. “They said there’s no sign of your suitcase yet. They told me to try calling again this evening.”

I pulled the covers over my head.

“Don’t go back to sleep. You know what this means? We have to go shopping for some clothes for you!”

“Don’t you want to make some phone calls and try to find your aunt first?” I peeled back the covers and propped myself up on my elbow.

“We can come back and start those phone calls later.” Penny hopped out of bed. “Times like these call for an adjustment of priorities! The top of our list at this moment is new clothes.”

And off we went. Twinkle dust everywhere.

A nonflirty taxi driver drove us through the streets of downtown Helsinki under dark, gray clouds. I stared at the profoundly solid stone buildings. Some were old with domes and architectural details of an era long gone. Modern buildings sprouted in unpredictable gaps standing straight, uncompromising, and sleek as silver. Quiet hung over the city and over us.

The taxi driver dropped us off in front of a tall brick building, and Penny paid him with the Finnish marks she had exchanged at the hotel before we left.

We dashed into the department store before the cold wind had a chance to find us. Just inside the door, to the right, Penny and I both spotted a corner bakery and chocolate counter.

Turning to face each other, we grinned and said in unison, “Yes, please!” Laughing at our old joke, we headed for the sweets before exploring the store.

I bought two small cookies dipped in chocolate and a mocha truffle.

“Is this breakfast or lunch?” Penny asked me before placing her order.

“Both?” I suggested.

“That’s what I thought. I’m getting double then.”

We found our way to the elevator and rode to the fourth floor, nibbling on our goodies all the way.

We found the women’s section and looked through racks of pants. The sizing on the labels was different than what we had in the U.S. We had no idea what the exchange rate was, so the price meant nothing to us either.

Penny held up a pair of black pants in front of me. “What do you think? Basic. Serviceable. They feel like they would be warm.”

“I wonder where I try them on?”

A woman wearing tiny wire-framed glasses stepped over to Penny and me and asked something in Finnish.

“Sorry,” Penny said. “We only speak English.”

“How may I help you?” The woman easily slipped into our language.

It amazed me that everyone we had met so far spoke English.

“Is there a dressing room where she can try these on?”

“Yes. This way, please.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I think I’ll look around some more.”

The young woman nodded, reached for the pants to hold them for me, and then politely followed me around at a distance. I randomly selected two other pairs of pants, a long brown-and-red floral skirt, and five or six tops, including a cute red sweater that would go great with the skirt.

The only thing that fit was the “serviceable” pair of black pants Penny had found. I remembered all over again why I disliked shopping. What is that verse about “hope deferred makes the heart sick”? That’s how I felt when I shopped. I’d find darling pieces that went together to make what I thought was a cute outfit. I’d have it all figured out. Then I’d try on the clothes, and all my hopes would scatter. Nothing ever fit the way I thought it would.

“Don’t look so glum,” Penny said. “We have plenty of time.”

“An abundance of time is not what I’m glum about. It’s the abundance of other things.” I patted my hip. “You won’t miss these sweatpants of yours if I wear them all week, will you?”

Penny tilted her head and looked at me cautiously. “No.
You’re welcome to the sweats. But you are going to buy the pants, aren’t you? And a few new tops?”

I let Penny talk me into a sky blue turtleneck and a matching sweater that hung long and buttoned up the front. I’m sure it was outrageously expensive because the knit felt softer than anything I’d ever owned. Cashmere, I think.

“Now you look like a world traveler,” Penny said. “I wondered what I would get you as an early birthday present, and I think this would be perfect.”

“Penny, my birthday isn’t until October.”

“So? I’ll be early for once. Now all you need is some new undies, and you’ll barely miss your runaway luggage.”

The shopping clerk, who had been following at a measured distance, asked if my luggage had been lost by an airline. I said it had, and she said the airlines often pay for the cost of replacing lost clothing.

“My husband was on a flight yesterday,” the clerk said. “They were rerouted because of the bad weather.”

“Our flight was rerouted, too,” Penny said.

The attendant leaned close and confided, “I was very upset because it was my name day on Thursday, and my husband said we would celebrate on Friday when he came home. But he was too late for my party.”

“Yesterday was your birthday?” Penny asked.

“No, my name day. In Finland every day is name day for a different name. For instance, my name is Tuija. It means a green bush.”

“A green bush?” Penny questioned.

“Yes, a bush that is planted in front of a house for beauty. On Thursday all of the women in Finland named Tuija celebrated their name day. Here, I’ll show you.” Tuija slid a
calendar out from under the clear plastic countertop at the cash register area. She showed us the month of February and pointed to the twenty-fifth. “Tuija day. Do you see?”

“Well, happy name day, a couple of days late.” Penny opened her bag of goodies from the bakery downstairs. “Here, celebrate with a chocolate.”

Tuija laughed. “Thank you, but I’m not allowed to eat while I work.”

“Then take it for later,” Penny said.

Penny once again was responding to someone with her never-met-a-stranger sense of camaraderie. Perhaps I had been too critical of her public relations skills.

Tuija gave in to Penny’s generosity and accepted a truffle to save for later. She added up the prices on my new pants and sweaters and asked, “Are you visiting for long?”

“Only a week and a half.” Penny pulled out her credit card.

“That’s a long time. Most tourists I meet are here for only a day or two.”

“I’m hoping to visit some relatives,” Penny said.

“Do they live in Helsinki?”

Penny and I looked at each other. I tried hard not to show the slightest shade of condemnation in my expression.

“I’m not sure.” Penny launched into her story and even added that we were at God’s mercy on this adventure.

Tuija stopped punching numbers into the computerized cash register and gave Penny a smile. “I think God has given mercy to you today.”

“He certainly has,” Penny said. “It’s not every day that Sharon and I get to go shopping and have cookies and truffles for breakfast.”

“No, no. There is something else. My husband works for
the government.” Tuija swished her hand in the air and said excitedly, “I don’t know the word in English, but he makes records of all the people in Finland.”

“He’s a music producer?” Penny asked.

“No, no!” Tuija’s cheeks were turning red. “I don’t have the right English words. He makes all the information of where people live. He keeps the information for the telephones and the houses for all of Finland.”

Penny and I looked at each other, trying to understand our flustered Finnish clothing clerk. “What I mean is that my husband can find your aunt.”

Tuija made a phone call and told us we could meet her husband at his office if we left right away. He wasn’t usually in the office on Saturday, she said, but he had gone in to catch up on a few matters after his business trip.