Brooklyn didn’t flinch at my unsympathetic tone. She was used to the occasional flash of anger that bubbled up through my grief. “Kasi, because I knew her too, remember? And your mom loved birthdays. I was at your parties eating like three pieces of your birthday cake. I know she would want you to enjoy your day just the way you used to.”
She was right. Mama had made my birthdays magical. She served me my favorite breakfast in bed. She baked elaborate homemade cakes. She came up with backyard treasure hunts, and she went all out for the gift bags. All the kids wanted an invite to my parties just to get the treats. Theia was a greatmother until she became someone who could vanish into the night.
I took a deep breath, about to apologize, when something across the street caught my eye. Between a sleek coffee shop and a boutique clothing store stood a storefront that seemed to belong to another century. A faded red door, weathered by time, sat framed by what looked like black iron branches that twisted up around the wood. Above it, an arched stained-glass window sparkled in the afternoon light. I’d never seen anything like it. The stain-glass depicted two Black girls in blue dresses. I had to take a closer look.
“What is it?” Brooklyn asked, following my gaze.
I pointed. “That shop. Was that always there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Above the strange entrance, old English letters spelled out “Wanderlust Emporium” in faded gold paint. “What’s a Wanderlust Emporium?” The display windows on either side of the door were covered with so much stuff, I couldn’t see inside at all.
“Never heard of it. Look’s weird,” Brooklyn said, squinting across the street. “It looks totally out of place. Like someone dropped a Romanian antique shop in the middle of downtown Chicago.”
She was right. The store was completely out of place. It was nestled between minimalist storefronts with their clean lines and bright lighting. The Emporium looked like it had been plucked from another time.
“Let’s check it out,” I said, already stepping off the curb.
Brooklyn grabbed my elbow. “Wait for the light, birthday girl. I didn’t spend all day shopping with you just to watch you get flattened by a Lyft driver.”
Brooklyn was talking, but I barely heard her. Something about that shop pulled at me. The crosswalk signal changed, and I practically dragged Brooklyn across the street with me.
Up close, the Emporium was even stranger. The red door’s paint was chipped at the edges, revealing layers of red paint underneath, as if it had been repainted countless times over centuries. The black iron branches framing the door weren’t decorative metalwork as I’d first thought. They looked like actual pieces of a metal fence, somehow preserved and incorporated into the door’s facade.
The most beautiful thing was the stained-glass window above the door. Up close, the little Black girls with rich brown skin and raven-colored hair were perfect in their matching blue dresses. Their faces peered down at the people who entered the shop. There was a sadness that matched the single tear they both shed. One sister was comforting the other. They had to be sisters, maybe even twins. From across the street, I hadn’t noticed it, but they both had angel wings.
“This place is giving me serious witch vibes,” Brooklyn muttered, eyeing the stained-glass window above the door. “Look at those black angels. Creepy.”
“It’s not creepy. It’s cute. It’s got to be black-owned.” I said.
“Facts. They ain’t putting no Black angels up when they still making Jesus pale-colored.”
“This is probably the only place on this street we can shop without being followed around the store.”
“Well, now that’s double facts. But this place doesn’t match anything else on this block,” Brooklyn continued, gesturing at the surrounding stores. “How have we never noticed it before? We come downtown all the time.”
I didn’t consider a half a dozen times a year as all the time, but I don’t think this place was here before. I placed my handon the doorknob, and I could have sworn it vibrated slightly beneath my palm.
“Maybe it’s new,” I suggested, though even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t true. Nothing about this shop looked new. It felt ancient, like it had stood here for centuries while the city grew up around it.
Brooklyn snorted. “Yeah, right. Someone just built a haunted Victorian shop overnight. Makes total sense.”
I turned to her, my hand still on the doorknob. “We have to go in.”
“Ah, miss ma’am, do we though?” Brooklyn eyed the building skeptically. “It looks like the kind of place where they kidnap underage girls to ship them to other countries for sex-trafficking.”
“Good thing neither of us qualifies then,” I said with a half-smile. “We are not underage.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her laugh. “Fine. But if some creepy old dude tries to read our palms or sell us a voodoo doll, we outta there.”
“Deal,” I agreed, turning back to the door.
My heart pounded as I twisted the knob. It turned with surprising ease. The door swung inward and a bell chimed over my head. A wave of scents washed over me, old books, dried herbs, beeswax, and something else I couldn’t identify.
Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped across the threshold. Brooklyn was close behind me. The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded somehow final, like the period at the end of a sentence.
We were inside the Wanderlust Emporium, and somehow, I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I just didn’t know how I knew it. I just did.
