It could be said that Janet Auchincloss’s life up until this point had unfolded pretty much the way she’d expected. She recovered quickly, though, as Janet pulled her into an embrace. “For goodness sake! Why are you wearing pants?” For a moment, Lee’s glowing smile disappeared her shoulders drooped dejectedly. (In black-and-white photographs taken on the day, the belt appears to be gray but Lee would later call it “shocking pink.”) “ Lee,” exclaimed Janet as she sized her up. “I’m looking for my Lee.” At the mention of the name, from around a corner came a familiar voice: “Mummy, is that you?” Lee suddenly appeared, also looking elegant in a smartly tailored black pantsuit with a wide leather belt. Peeking inside the small room, she found a young woman working behind a typewriter. Her spike heels made staccato clicking sounds as she approached an office at the end of a long hallway. Janet Lee Bouvier Auchincloss, forty-four, came sweeping down the hall wearing a waistcoat jacket with a mink collar over a white silk blouse and matching cotton skirt.
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