Jane Bites Back_ A Novel - Michael Thomas Ford [67]
That’s better, Jane thought as she straightened the bedspread. Now for the shopping. She located her purse and looked inside for the notes Lucy had written up for her. Lucy had written out what pieces should be worn together, and had outlined the makeup regimen Jane should follow.
Now, however, the list was useless. All of Jane’s clothes and makeup were who knew where. She had to start all over, and this filled her with panic. She didn’t even know where to begin. But the clock was ticking, and she had to move. Grabbing her key card, she left the room and headed down to the lobby, where she approached the concierge desk.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to keep the hysteria from her voice. “Where’s the best place to look for shoes? I seem to have forgotten to pack my good ones.”
The man behind the desk answered instantly. “Macy’s,” he said. “It’s only three blocks away. Or you could try Nordstrom, but that’s farther away.”
“Macy’s will be fine,” said Jane. “Thank you.”
She rushed from the hotel and practically ran in the direction the concierge had indicated. Arriving at Macy’s breathless and exhausted, she looked anxiously at her watch. She had less than forty-five minutes to get everything she needed, get back to the hotel, and get dressed in time to meet Kelly for the ride to the television station. She unfolded Lucy’s list and read the first item.
“Black pants,” she said aloud. “Red blouse. Right.”
She consulted a directory and made her way to the women’s department. Once there, she looked about helplessly. There were at least twenty different kinds of black pants, and almost as many red blouses.
“May I help you?” A young woman who looked disconcertingly like she could be Farrah’s sister approached Jane.
“I need some clothes,” Jane said unhelpfully. “And I’m in a hurry.” She thrust the list at the associate.
The woman looked over the list and nodded. “I think I know just what you need,” she said. “Come with me. My name is Sandra, by the way.”
“Jane,” Jane said curtly. She cast her eyes at the makeup counter as they went past. Eye shadow, she thought vaguely. Lipstick. Pink, not coral.
“Let’s try these,” said Sandra as she stopped in front of a rack of pants. “I think these will fit. Why don’t you try them on, and I’ll bring you some more options.”
“I don’t think I have time to—” Jane began.
“The fitting rooms are right over there,” said Sandra. “Go on. I’ll be right with you.”
Jane, cowed, obeyed. She took the pants with her into one of the little changing rooms and dutifully tried them on. To her surprise, they actually fit. She started to take them off, relieved that things were going so smoothly, when Sandra’s voice came through the door. “Here are some more pants,” she said.
“These will be—” Jane started to say.
“Here,” said Sandra, opening the door and thrusting an armful of pants at Jane. “I’ll be right back.”
Before Jane could object further, the girl was gone. Jane looked at the pile of black pants, all of which looked to her to be exactly like the first pair, and groaned. A quick look at her watch increased her feeling of panic. I have to get out of here, she thought.
Opening the door to the dressing room, she crept to the door of the fitting room, the first pair of pants clutched in her hand. She peered out, looking for signs of Sandra. The girl was halfway across the sales floor. She had an armful of red blouses draped over one arm.
Go! a voice in Jane’s head shouted. Go now! Before she sees you!
Ducking down, she moved between the racks, keeping her head low in case Sandra spied her. Only when she was concealed behind a display of sundresses did she dare look around. Sandra was heading for the fitting rooms. Jane took the opportunity to rush over to one of the racks of blouses Sandra had been looking at.