Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Karyn Langhorne Read Free Book Online Page A

herself drawn to
    what the woman had on her back.
    The sister was a far cry from model skinny, but
    she was beautifully dressed in a pair of chocolate
    brown suede slacks and a pink cashmere sweater
    that suited her body shape perfectly. Audra had to
    stop herself from reaching out to caress the soft
    fabrics.
    She scooted a little closer to the newspaper-
    reading man who scrunched a little deeper behind
    his paper.
    “Where do you shop?” Audra asked the sour-
    faced sister.
    “What?” The woman frowned up at her like she’d
    asked her what color her underwear was.
    “It’s just . . . you look very nice,” Audra told her,
    smiling as if a smile proved she wasn’t a psycho
    killer. “It looks like I’m going to a party tomorrow
    night and I’ve got to find something trendy. Some-
    thing hip,” she leaned toward the woman. “See, if it
    were up to me, I’d go to some vintage store and try
    to look like Ingrid Bergman in Indiscreet ”—she
    chuckled a little, like she and the stranger were shar-
    ing an inside joke, but the woman just stared at her
    blankly. “Well, anyway,” Audra continued, realizing
    how ridiculous she sounded. “I thought I’d better
    model myself after someone still alive”—the woman
    blinked at her in alarm—“I mean, someone who’s
    not in an old movie,” Audra corrected. “Someone
    who looks good . And when you poked me just now, I
    noticed your sweater, so I thought I would ask—”
    “Marciella’s,” the woman replied, her face finally
    DIARY OF AN UGLY DUCKLING
    49
    relaxing out of its city-wise, don’t-mess-with-me
    game face into a kindness that softened her features
    and made her much prettier than Audra had origi-
    nally thought. “It’s a little boutique on Madison, be-
    tween Thirty-fifth and Thirty-sixth.”
    “Marciella’s,” Audra repeated, wondering if she
    should write it down. “Madison and Thirty-fifth.”
    The woman nodded, a pleased smile spreading
    over her face. She wasn’t really so sour-faced after
    all, Audra decided. “Great stuff. Pricey,” she warned,
    wagging a manicured finger at Audra. “Very pricey.
    But it’s really classy stuff. You won’t meet yourself
    coming and going.”
    “Pricey, huh?” The word resonated in Audra’s
    mind. Combined with the words Madison Avenue
    and boutique , Audra couldn’t help but feel this
    woman’s shopping budget went way beyond her
    own. She wanted to follow up with “How pricey?”
    but bit back the question. If I have to, I’ll spend it , she
    told herself firmly. But I’ll try the cheaper stores first.
    After all, Art Bradshaw had invited her to a
    party . . . and all was right with the world.
    “The next station stop is . . . Thirty-fourth Street,”
    the automated conductor announced in its soul-less
    voice. Audra thanked her new friend and rose to
    leave the train, freeing up a considerable amount of
    seating space in the process.
    “Fancy and hip, fancy and hip,” Audra sang aloud,
    moving through the pedestrian traffic on Sixth Av-
    enue, pushing herself through the doors of Macy’s
    and heading determinedly for the women’s section,
    pushing aside her dread of the fitting room and
    50
    Karyn Langhorne
    wishing for the thousandth time she’d stuck to her
    New Year’s Resolution diet.
    Only there was nothing that said “fancy and hip”
    in the way Audra defined them. Sure, there were
    hip, casual clothes galore in the larger sizes (boot-
    cut jeans and bohemian tops, big, fringed poncho
    shawls, rhinestone-studded denim jackets) and a se-
    lection of fancy ones (dresses as wide as muumuus,
    mostly in dark colors, of a cut and style guaranteed
    to make any woman look like the mother of the
    bride) but nothing that spoke of youthful fanciness.
    Nothing in the entire store . . . and Audra traipsed
    across it repeatedly, searching rack after rack with
    uncharacteristic diligence.
    She abandoned Macy’s for Bloomingdale’s and
    then Lord & Taylor, and then gave up the