Lost Read Online Free PDF Page B

find something on it that was sufficiently stylish and sexy for her date with Neil Macfarlane.
    “Cindy’s here,” Leigh called to her mother.
    “Hi, dear,” her mother’s disembodied voice sang out.
    “Hi, Mom. How’s the dress?”
    “You tell me.” Cindy watched her normally vivacious, seventy-two-year-old mother push open the heavy white curtain that served as her dressing room door and frownuncertainly, her fingers pulling at the sides of the magenta satin gown.
    “Tell her she looks beautiful,” Leigh whispered behind cupped fingers, pretending to be scratching her nose.
    “What did your sister say?”
    “She said you look beautiful,” Cindy told her.
    “What do
you
think?”
    “Naturally,” Leigh said under her breath. “What
I
think doesn’t count.”
    “What’s your sister muttering about now?”
    “I’m right here, Mother. You don’t have to ask Cindy.”
    “I think you look beautiful,” Cindy said, genuinely agreeing with her sister’s assessment and reaching out to pat her mother’s fashionable blond bob.
    Norma Appleton made a dismissive gesture with her mouth. “Well, of course, you girls would stick together.”
    “What’s the problem you’re having with the dress, Mom?” Cindy asked, spotting a short red cocktail dress on the rack of more casual offerings, wondering if it was her size.
    “I don’t like the neckline.” Her mother tugged at the offending area. “It’s too plain.”
    The neckline might be too low-cut, Cindy thought, noting the daring bodice of the short red dress. She didn’t want to give Neil Macfarlane the wrong idea. Did she?
    He’s really cute
, Trish whispered in her ear.
    “I’ve already explained to Mother a million times.…”
    “I’m right here, you know,” Norma Appleton said. “You can talk to
me.”
    “I’ve already told
you
a zillion times that Marcel will be adding beading along the top.”
    Cindy mentally discarded the short red dress, her eyesmoving down the rack to a long, shapeless, beige linen sack. Definitely not, she decided, picturing herself lost inside its voluminous folds. She didn’t want Neil Macfarlane to think he was dating a nun. Did she?
    You haven’t had sex in three years
.
    “I hate beading,” her mother was saying.
    “Since when do you hate beading?”
    “I’ve always hated beading.”
    “What about a jacket?” Cindy suggested, trying to still the voices in her head. “Maybe Marcel could make up something in lace.…” She glanced imploringly at Marcel, who promptly left his assistant’s side to join them in the center of the room.
    “A lace jacket is a lovely idea,” her mother agreed.
    “I thought you didn’t like lace,” Leigh said.
    “I’ve always liked lace.”
    The last time she’d had sex, Cindy recalled, she’d been wearing a lace peignoir. The man’s name was Alan and they’d met when he came into Meg’s shop to buy a pair of crystal-and-turquoise earrings for his sister’s birthday. Cindy found out that he didn’t have a sister when his wife came by the following week to exchange the earrings for something subtler. By then, of course, it was too late. The peignoir had been purchased; the deed had been done.
    “What do you think, Marcel?” Cindy asked now, her voice unnaturally loud. The poor man took a step back, glancing anxiously at Cindy’s mother, trying not to fixate on the deep creases her fingers were inflicting on the delicate satin of his design.
    Without hesitation, Marcel reached for the tape measure that circled his neck like a scarf. “Whatever you desire.”
    Whatever you desire, Cindy repeated silently, savoringthe sound. How long had it been since anyone had offered her whatever she desired? Would Neil Macfarlane?
    He’s to die for. I swear. You’ll love him
.
    “Did I hear you say something about problems with a neighbor?” her mother asked, lifting her arms to allow Marcel to measure their length.
    “Yes,” Cindy said, grateful for the chance to get