Finding Ashley by Danielle Steel (free ebook reader for iphone txt) 📗

to the park before he got sick, shopping, seeing friends, life with Carson. She had abandoned an entire life when she left, all the people she’d known, and familiar spaces. She couldn’t bear their friends’ sympathy, or their look of panic that it could happen to them, and they could lose a child too. They felt sorry for her, but were relieved it wasn’t them. She understood, but didn’t want to see it. And she had nothing to say to them since her only child was dead and they had nothing in common anymore. She had borne it for two years, while she and Carson were still together after Robbie died, but the moment Carson left her, she fled.

He moved in with Jane almost immediately, and she went to the Berkshires to look for a house. Now suddenly she was back. It was a painful déjà vu for her, and she stood stock-still in the middle of Bergdorf’s main floor, unable to move, and then forced herself to head toward the escalator, to find something to wear that Michaela would approve of. She didn’t want her daughter to think she was a slob or didn’t care how she looked, which she hadn’t for four years, in old jeans and T-shirts. But now it mattered.

Melissa spent two hours trying on clothes, feeling even more lost. She felt ridiculous in them, polite little suits and matronly dresses she knew she’d never wear again, and weren’t “her.” She didn’t know what Michaela expected, and didn’t want to disappoint her. Hattie called her on her cellphone when she finished her shift, and Melissa was standing in a dressing room piled high with rejects. She was near tears.

“I need to borrow your habit. I’ve forgotten how to shop. I look awful in everything I’ve tried on. Can’t we say we’re both nuns?”

“You’d be struck by lightning immediately, after everything you’ve said about my being one,” Hattie said, and Melissa laughed.

“That’s probably true. I can’t find anything to wear.”

“What about black slacks and a nice sweater? That’s what you used to wear most of the time.”

“I’d forgotten. Can I wear that to dinner too?”

“You’re asking me for advice? My wardrobe comes from the donation boxes people drop off. I have four Mickey Mouse Disneyland sweatshirts, and two from Harvard.” They both laughed and Melissa knew it was true. She’d seen them.

“You can lend me one from Harvard if I don’t find anything here.”

“Buy three black sweaters, and a pair of slacks. She’s not going to care what you’re wearing, Mel.”

“I hope not. I saw Marla Moore at the Oscars on TV last year, in Chanel haute couture. I can’t compete with that.”

“You don’t have to. I think they borrow what they wear, so it probably wasn’t hers. All you need to look like is her mom.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Hattie,” Melissa said, near tears. “I’m not a writer, or a mother, or a wife. I live in the country and don’t see anyone or go anywhere. I don’t have a job, or a life, or anything to impress her.”

“Maybe you need to get a life and a new wardrobe, Mel,” Hattie said gently, and as she did, it occurred to Melissa that it might be nice to have some new clothes to wear when she saw Norm, if they had dinner again, and she hoped they would. It gave her an idea.

“I’ll do pants and sweaters. That works.” She went down a floor to where the more casual clothes were, and bought a soft pink cashmere sweater, a pale blue one, a red turtleneck, and two black ones that looked chic. She bought black and gray flannel slacks, and then she saw a lace blouse that looked soft and feminine, and she bought a simple black cashmere coat that looked right for New York, instead of the beaten up gray parka she’d come to town in. She stopped in the shoe department and bought two pairs of black high-heeled pumps, one in suede, a pair of Chanel flats, and a good-looking pair of black boots. She had enough clothes to get her through the next few days, and she thought of Norm when she bought the lace blouse. There was good shopping in Boston too, but she never went.

She reached the sidewalk with her cluster of shopping bags, feeling like herself again. She’d brought a pair of her mother’s pearl earrings with her, and a Chanel handbag she used to love and had found on a shelf in her closet, gathering dust. It was a familiar look when she tried it on at the hotel, and she smiled at the blouse, thinking of the evening she’d spent with Norm, and their kisses in front of the fireplace, drinking the Sauterne. She no longer owned anything to make herself attractive to a man, or to impress a daughter who lived in L.A. and had a glamorous movie star adoptive mother. But the clothes she had bought looked well on her, and showed off her tall, slim figure. The coat was very stylish she realized when she tried it on again.

Just being in the city again was a strange déjà vu for her. It made her think of Carson and how long it had been since they’d spoken and she’d heard his voice. She thought about all they’d been through, and wondered how he was. He was still in the publishing world, and married again, with two teenage stepdaughters. So his life was not so different, but hers bore no resemblance to her earlier life. She spent the winter in rubber boots or snow boots, and sneakers in the summer. Her clothes were functional and not pretty, and she hadn’t cared in four years. But now she did.

It was hard to turn the clock back to be someone she no longer was, and she looked older than she had four years before. Hattie said she hadn’t changed but Melissa knew she had. She’d been through