Baby Needs a New Pair of Shoes Read Online Free PDF Page B

great tsker, but since then…
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked.
    â€œYou don’t want to go into the city looking like a… ragamuffin, do you?”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I told her!” Hillary said.
    â€œWho are you?” Elizabeth Hepburn demanded.
    â€œHillary Clinton.”
    A slow smile rose on Elizabeth Hepburn’s soft features. “Of course,” she said.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with the way I look?” I asked again.
    But before they could answer, I could see it for myself. Hillary, as always, was dressed impeccably. Riding the rails into the city on a hot summer day, she had on a sleeveless peach sundress with a wide-brimmed straw hat and flat gold sandals that were pretty damn attractive, even if they weren’t Jimmy Choos. As for Ms. Hepburn, she had a slightly more modest aqua sundress on that brought out the color of her eyes, a straw hat with a big floral band à la the late Princess Diana and open-toed spectator pumps that matched her dress. For an octogenarian, she had a great set of wheels.
    While I had on…
    â€œAll right already!” I said. “I get the point! But isn’t it true these days that so long as you can afford the price tag or pay the restaurant tab, no one cares how casual you look?”
    â€œI care,” Elizabeth Hepburn said, drawing her spine up to its full acceptance-speech glory.
    â€œWell, it’s a little late for me to go home and change,” I said.
    Besides, I was thinking, what’s so wrong about jean shorts, a T-shirt and my Nikes? With ten million people or so in the city, there would be plenty of people who looked like me, probably be a lot more people looking like me than like these two garden-party missies. And, hey, my T-shirt was clean.
    â€œI can fix this,” Elizabeth Hepburn said. Then she crooked a finger at me. “Come.”
    Five minutes later, I was back on the gravel drive. Gone were my shorts and T, replaced by a fairly pretty peasant blouse and long skirt.
    â€œWhat we wore back in the sixties,” Elizabeth Hepburn said, “it’s all come back again.”
    The amazing thing was, having caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way out, I didn’t look half-bad. It was a bittersweet pill to swallow, the idea that I looked better in an old lady’s clothes than my own.
    â€œSorry about the shoes.” Elizabeth Hepburn directed her apology to Hillary as though I wasn’t there. “But mine are all too small for her. I did always have such tiny feet. It was one of the things Rudolf Nureyev used to say he loved about me.”
    Rudolf Nureyev? Wasn’t he—?
    â€œThat’s okay.” Hillary shrugged as she studied the tips of my Nikes as they peeked out from under the long dress. “We’ll just tell the salesgirls at Jimmy Choo’s that she’s our country cousin and that’s why we brought her in, because she needs their help… bad. ”
    â€œGee, thanks,” I said. “Maybe you two should just go on without me.”
    â€œNow, now.” Elizabeth Hepburn rubbed my arm. “Where would we be without you? You’re the glue, Delilah, you are definitely the balls of the operation.”
    A short time later, as we boarded the train, Hillary tossed over her shoulder, “Will you be able to manage a day without Amy’s Cheese Pizza Pockets for lunch?”
    â€œVery funny,” I groused.
    But, of course, I had my own doubts.
    Later, as we exited Grand Central Station, she said, “We never did decide which Jimmy Choo’s we should go to, the one on Fifth or the one on Madison?”
    â€œOh, definitely the one on Madison,” Elizabeth Hepburn put in quickly. “It always reminds me of the time I slept with the president.”
    â€œWhich president?” I asked.
    â€œWhy, President Madison, of course,” she said huffily.
    â€œShe thinks she slept with President