The overhead fluorescent lights of the suburban mall hummed a low, clinical tune that set Sarah’s teeth on edge. She was on a mission. It was 4:00 PM on a Tuesday, and her mother’s birthday brunch was less than twenty hours away.

She didn't wait for the elevator. She took the stairs two at a time. The hunt was almost over, and for once, the mall's hum sounded like a victory lap.

Ten minutes later, Sarah stood in the doorway of the dedicated Vera Bradley store. It was a soft-lit sanctuary of patterns. The walls were lined with everything from to rolling luggage . The sales associate, a woman named Linda who wore a quilted lanyard, shook her head sympathetically.