it was really great meeting you。 I’ve got to be getting Home now；
but hopefully we’ll cross paths soon。”
“My pleasure； Andrea。 Congratulations again on scoring such a
fantastic job。 Right out of college and working atRunway 。 Very
impressive。”
“I’ll walk you out；” Christian said； placing a hand on my elbow and
motioning to Gabriel that he’d be right back。
We stopped at the bar so I could tell Lily that I was heading Home；
and she unnecessarily told me—in between William’s nuzzlings—that
she wouldn’t be joining me。 At the foot of the stairs that would
take me back to street level； Christian kissed me on the cheek。
“Great running into you tonight。 And I have a feeling I’m going to
have to hear Gabriel talk about how great you are now； too。” He
grinned。
“We barely exchanged two words；” I pointed out； wondering why
everyone was being so plimentary。
“Yes； Andy； but what you don’t seem to realize is that the writing
world is a small one。 Whether you write mysteries or feature stories
or newspaper articles； everyone knows everyone。 Gabriel doesn’t have
to know much about you to know that you have potential： you were
good enough to get a job atRunway； you sound bright and articulate
when you talk； and hell； you’re a friend of mine。 He’s got nothing
to lose by giving you his card。 What does he know？ He could have
just discovered the next best…selling author。 And trust me—Gabriel
Brooks is a good man for you to know。”
“Hmm； I guess you’re right。 Well； anyway； I’ve got to get Home since
I’ve got to be at work again in a few hours anyway。 Thanks for
everything。 I really appreciate it。” I leaned up to kiss him on the
cheek； half expecting him to turn his face forward and half wanting
him to； but he just smiled。
“More than my pleasure； Andrea Sachs。 Have a good night。” And before
I could e up with anything remotely clever to say； he was headed
back to Gabriel。
I rolled my eyes at myself and headed to the street to hail a cab。
It had started to rain—nothing torrential； just a light； steady
stream—so of course there wasn’t a single cab free anywhere in
Manhattan。 I called the Elias…Clark car service； gave them my VIP
number； and had a car screeching to the curb exactly six minutes
later。 Alex had left a voice mail asking me how my day was and
saying that he’d be Home all night writing lesson plans。 It had been
too long since I surprised him。 It was time to make a little effort
and be spontaneous。 The driver agreed to wait as long as I needed；
so I ran upstairs； jumped in the shower； took a little extra time
making my hair look good； and threw together a bag with stuff for
work the next day。 Since it was already after eleven； traffic was
tame and we made it to Alex’s apartment in Brooklyn in under fifteen
minutes。 He looked genuinely happy to see me when he opened the
door； saying over and over and over again how he couldn’t believe
that I’d e all the way to Brooklyn so late on a work night and it
was the best surprise he could’ve hoped for。 And as I lay with my
head on my favorite spot on his chest； watching Conan and listening
to the rhythmic sound of his breathing as he played with my hair； I
barely thought about Christian at all。
“Um； hi。 May I speak with your food editor please？ No？ OK； maybe an
editorial assistant； or someone who can tell me when a restaurant
review ran？” I asked an openly hostile receptionist at theNew York
Times 。 She had answered the phone by barking； “What！” and was
currently pretending—or perhaps not—that we didn’t speak a mon
language。 Persistence paid off； though； and after asking her name
three times （“We can’t tell our names； lady”）； threatening to report
her to her manager （“What？ You think he cares？ I’ll put him on right
now”）； and finally swearing rather emphatically that I would
personally show up at their Times Square offices and do everything
in my power to have her fired on the spot （“Oh； really？ I’m not so
worried”）； she tired of me and connected me to someone else。
“Editorial；” snapped another hassled…sounding woman。 I wondered if
this is what I sounded like answering Miranda’s phone； and if not；
then I aspired to it。 It was such an enormous turnoff hearing a
voice that was so incredibly； undeniably unhappy to hear from you
that it almost made you just want to hang up。
“Hi； I just had a quick question。” The words tumbled out in a
desperate attempt to be heard before she inevitably slammed down the
phone。 “I’m wondering if you ran any reviews of Asian fusion
restaurants yesterday？”
She sighed as though I’d just asked her to donate one of her limbs
to science and then sighed again。 “Have you looked online？” Another
sigh。
“Yes； yes； of course； but I can’t—”
“Because that’s where they would be if we’d done one。 I can’t keep
track of every word that goes in the paper； you know。”
I took a deep breath myself and tried to stay calm。 “Your charming
receptionist connected me to you since you work in the archives
department。 So it does in fact appear that it’s your job to keep
track of every word。”
“Listen； if I had to try to track down every vague description that
everyone called me with every day； I wouldn’t be able to do anything
else。 You really need to check online。” She sighed twice more； and I
began to worry that she might hyperventilate。
“No； no；you just listen for a minute；” I started； feeling primed and
ready to lay into this lazy girl who had a far better job than my
own。 “I’m calling from Miranda Priestly’s office； and it just so
happens that—”
“I’m sorry； did you say you were calling from Miranda Priestly’s
office？” she asked； and I could feel her ears perk up across the
phone line。 “Miranda Priestly 。 。 。 fromRunway magazine？”
“The one and only。 Why？ Heard of her？”
It was here that she transformed from highly put…upon editorial
assistant to gushing fashion slave。 “Heard of her？ Of course！ Is
anybody not familiar with Miranda Priestly？ She is； like； the
ultimate woman in fashion。 What was it you said she was looking
for？”
“A review。 Yesterday’s paper。 Asian fusion restaurant。 I didn’t see
it online； but I’m not sure I checked properly。” That was a bit of a
lie。 I had checked online and was quite sure there hadn’t been any
reviews of Asian fusion restaurants in theNew York Times any day in
the past week； but I wasn’t telling her that。 Maybe Schizophrenic
Editorial Girl here would work a miracle。
So far I’d called theTimes； thePost； and theDaily News； but nothing
had turned up。 I’d plugged in her corporate card number to access
theWall Street Journal ’s paid archives and had actually found a
blurb on a new Thai restaurant in the Village； but I had to
immediately discount it when I noticed that the average entrée price
was only seven dollars andcitysearch listed only a single dollar
sign next to it。
“Well； sure； hold on just a second here。 I’m going to check that
right out for you。” And all of a sudden； Little Miss “I Can’t Be
Expected to Remember Every Word That Goes in the Paper” was tapping
away on a keyboard and humming excitedly to both of us。
My head ached from the debacle the night before。 It had been fun to
surprise Alex and amazingly relaxing to just laze around his
apartment； but for the first time in many； many months； I couldn’t
fall asleep。 Over and over and over again； I had pangs of guilt；
flashbacks of Christian kissing my neck and my then jumping in a car
to see Alex but tell him nothing。 Even though I tried to push it all
out of my mind； they kept returning； each one more intense than the
last one。 When I finally did manage to fall asleep； I dreamed that
Alex was hired to be Miranda’s nanny and—even though in reality hers
didn’t live in—he was to move in with the family。 Whenever I wanted
to see Alex in my dream； I would have to share a car Home with
Miranda and visit him in her apartment。 She would insist on calling
me Emily and send me out on inane errands even though I told her
repeatedly that I was just there to visit my boyfriend。 By the time
morning had finally rolled around； Alex had fallen under Miranda’s
spell and couldn’t understand why I thought she was so evil and；
even worse； Miranda had started dating Christian。 Blessedly； my hell
ended when I woke in a start after dreaming that Miranda； Christian；
and Alex all sat around in Frette robes together each Sunday morning
and read theTimes and laughed while I prepared breakfast； served
everyone； and cleaned up afterward。 Sleep last night was about as
relaxing as a solo stroll down Avenue D at four in the morning； and
now this restaurant review was wrecking whatever hope I had of
having an easy Friday。
“Hmm； no； we really haven’t run anything lately on Asian fusion。 I’m
trying to think； just personally； you know； if there are any new hot
Asian fusion places。 You know； places that Miranda would actually
consider going？” she said； sounding like she’d do anything to
prolong the conversation。
I ignored her transition into first…name familiarity with Miranda
and worked on getting her off the phone。 “OK； well； that’s what I
thought。 Thanks anyway； though。 I appreciate it。 ’Bye。”
“Wait！” she cried out； and even though the phone was already halfway
to the base； her urgency made me listen again。 “Yes？”
“Oh； well； I； uh； I just wanted to let you know that if there’s；
like； anything else I can do—or any of us here—feel free to call；
you know？ We love Miranda here； and we’d； like； uh； want to help
with anything we could？”
You would’ve thought that the First Lady of the United States of
America had just asked Schizophrenic Editorial Girl if she might be
able to locate an article for the president； an article that
included information crucial to an imminent war； and not an unnamed
review on an unnamed restaurant in an unnamed newspaper。 The saddest
part of all was that I wasn’t surprised： I knew she’d e around。
“OK； I’ll be sure to pass that along。 Thanks so much。”
Emily looked up from preparing yet another expense account and said；
“No luck there either？”
“Nope。 I have no idea what she’s talking about； and apparently；
neither does anyone else in this city。 I’ve spoken to someone at
every Manhattan paper she reads； checked online； talked to
archivists； food writers； chefs。 Not a single pe