A Scent

I had not been back in Denmark for many years when I was urged to come back before my father lost the battle with the cancer.
I asked my mother if there was anything she would like from USA and, yes, she said.
The scent that Chuck's mother wears. They had met when my parents came to visit years before.
She always smelled so nice, said my mother.
That was simple; Dorothy used Estee Lauder so I got myself to the appropriate counter in the department store and asked the icily beautiful and superbly groomed sales lady for Estee Lauder.
Which one, she asked. We have many different ones.
UH, said I, it is, uh, for my mother and,uh....
a barely visible frown passed over the face of the beautiful sales lady who said
Maybe you should ask your mother.
I conceded that that would be difficult, but could she, maybe, recommend something, please.
By now the frown was visible and she looked first at me and then through me as she rearranged the bottles on the counter.
Sweating slightly I had an idea;
why not, said I, give me the original. That must be it. The original.
And rapidly and efficiently bottles were wrapped and money taken and this dullard sent on his way.
Next time I was back in the old country was for the funeral of my mother, and I was touched when some of the grand daughters begged for the bottles of scents of their grandmother's because, as they said, granny always smelled so nice.
And I recalled the incident with the ice queen in the department store and thought
It was worth it.
Well, well worth it.