Austensibly Ordinary Read Online Free PDF Page B

found the perfect dress and sweet-talked Mom without having to come completely clean.
    Moving back and forth through the shop, I passed the counter often and caught little snatches of Mom’s curious chat with Geek Freak Brady. I had to assume that my position in the window created some sort of acoustic anomaly, because it sounded suspiciously like she was flirting with the guy.
    Once I had the mannequins outfitted in ruffly georgette tank dresses, layered necklaces, and black tissue-paper turbans glammed up with sprays of cut-out bats and some sparkle, I posed them, palms up. I placed the newly 3-D frogs in their hands, attached the other ends of the ribbon tongues to the mannequin cheeks, and stepped back. I needed more color. Sparkly green tissue-paper scarves, anyone?
    Brady was just packing up his things as I moved past the counter on my way into the storeroom for more supplies.
    â€œThis is your personal line?” Mom was saying, eyeing his business card.
    I shot a curious look in her direction, wondering why she was teasing the poor kid. Her voice had taken on a throaty, husky quality, and from the looks of him, his voice was changing too. Seeing him push his glasses up on his nose put me in mind of Clark Kent, and I gave him a closer look from the storeroom doorway, suddenly wondering if I had cause to be jealous.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he told my mom, zipping up his attaché case.
    â€œAllison,” she corrected. “I suspect I’ll be calling you.”
    I was surprised she didn’t tuck the card inside her bra.
    â€œAnytime . . . Allison. Whatever it is, I’ll work out the kinks.”
    Ducking back through the doorway and out of sight, I barely stifled a fit of giggles. If this was Superman, then I was Marlene Dietrich.
    Eager to stay away from the counter while Mom was making time with the computer guy, I took my time gathering up supplies. And my gaze strayed once again to the rack of new arrivals, the source of my new dress. With Courtney closeted in the dressing room with countless outfits and accessories and Mom oddly occupied, I was on my own—and eager for a peek at what was hiding under the other dry-cleaning bags. I checked my watch—still forty-five minutes till we needed to meet Ethan. Plenty of time to finish up the displays after a quick little reconnaissance mission.
    I beelined and riffled through the plastic on the first bag to uncover a sweet little dress of gray linen with a pleated bodice, layered cap sleeves, and flap pockets under a banded waistline. It didn’t exactly scream femme fatale, more efficient, albeit stylish, secretary—or English teacher. I held it up in front of me, my mind skimming through possibilities. Paired with some sexy pumps, a cleavage-dipping pendant, and some Lolita-red lipstick, it could be perfect—very Mad Men. As a disguise, it wouldn’t fool anyone, but it would get me in the mood for a little scandalous behavior.
    I unhooked the next in line and realized my luck couldn’t run forever. I could see enough through the transparent wrapping to tell that this one was a bit dowdy. Taupe and cream, it was a slim skirt and crossover blouse. It screamed society matron, but I felt compelled to take a quick peek. I was rather impressed to discover the blouse was both sleeveless and backless! Add a chunky choker and a cuff bracelet, and it was deliciously Grace Kelly gone vixen. I glimpsed a firecracker red something in the back when Mom breezed through the door, humming to herself.
    We both started in surprise.
    â€œMrs. Robinson,” I said, with a nod and a smirk.
    She ignored that, eyeing my handful. “What are you doing back here? I thought you were thrilled with the blue dress.”
    â€œI am,” I admitted, hooking the red mystery back on the rack, “but this new shipment is making me greedy. I’ve got the gimmes for all of them. It doesn’t even matter that I haven’t looked at