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birthday card to her husband。 And there it was； almost unexpected
but not quite； that dreaded British accent ringing in my ears。
“Ahn…dre…ah。 It’s Mir…ahnda。 It’s nine in the morning on Sunday in
Pah…ris and the girls have not yet received their books。 Call me at
the Ritz to assure me that they will arrive shortly。 That’s all。”
Click。
The bile began to rise in my throat。 As usual； the message lacked
all niceties。 No hello； good…bye； or thank you。 Obviously。 But more
than that； it had been left nearly half a day ago； and I had still
not called her back。 Grounds for dismissal； I knew； and there was
nothing I could do about it。 Like an amateur； I’d assumed my plan
would work perfectly and hadn’t even realized that Uri had never
called to confirm the pickup and drop…off。 I scanned through the
address book on my phone and quickly dialed Uri’s Cell Phone number；
another Miranda purchase so that he’d be on call 24/7 as well。
“Hi； Uri； it’s Andrea。 Sorry to bother you on Sunday； but I was
wondering if you picked up those books yesterday from Eighty…seventh
and Amsterdam？”
“Hi； Andy； eet’s so nice to hear your woice；” he crooned in the
thick Russian accent I always found so forting。 He’d been calling
me Andy like a favorite old uncle would since the first time we met；
and ing from him—as opposed to B…DAD—I didn’t mind it。 “Of course
I pick up the bouks； just like you say。 You tink I don’t vant to
help you？”
“No； no； of course not； Uri。 It’s just that I got a message from
Miranda saying that they hadn’t received them yet； and I’m wondering
what went wrong。”
He was quiet for a moment； and then offered me the name and number
of the pilot who was flying the private jet yesterday afternoon。
“Oh； thank you； thank you； thank you；” I said； scribbling the number
down frantically and praying that the pilot would be helpful。 “I’ve
got to run。 Sorry I can’t talk； but have a great weekend。”
“Yes； yes； good veekend to you； Andy。 I tink the pilot man will help
you trace the bouks。 Nice luck to you；” he said merrily and hung up。
Lily was making waffles and I desperately wanted to join her； but I
had to deal with this now or I was out of a job。 Or maybe I’d
already been fired； I thought； and no one had even bothered to tell
me。 Not outside the realm ofRunway possibility； remembering the
fashion editor who’d been fired while on her honeymoon。 She herself
stumbled across her change in job status by reading about it in a
copy ofWomen’s Wear Daily in Bali。 I quickly called the number that
Uri had given me for the pilot and thought I’d pass out from
frustration when an answering machine picked up。
“Hi； Jonathan？ This is Andrea Sachs fromRunway magazine。 I’m Miranda
Priestly’s assistant； and I needed to ask you a question about the
flight yesterday。 Oh； e to think of it； you’re probably still in
Paris； or maybe on your way back。 Well； I just wanted to see if the
books； and uh； well； you of course； made it to Paris in one piece。
Can you call my cell？ 917…555…8702。 Please； as soon as possible。
Thanks。 ’Bye。”
I thought about phoning the concierge at the Ritz to see if he’d
remember receiving the car that would have brought the books from
the private airport on the outskirts of Paris but quickly realized
that my cell didn’t dial internationally。 It was quite possibly the
only task it was not programmed to handle； and it was； of course；
the only one that mattered。 At that moment； Lily announced that she
had a plate of waffles and a cup of Coffee for me。 I walked into the
kitchen and took the food。 She was sipping a Bloody Mary。 Ugh。 It
was a Sunday morning。 How could she be drinking？
“Having a Miranda moment？” she asked with a look of sympathy。
I nodded。 “Think I screwed up pretty badly this time；” I said；
gratefully accepting the plate。 “This one just might get me fired。”
“Oh； sweetie； you always say that。 She won’t fire you。 She hasn’t
even seen you hard at work yet。 At least； she better not fire
you—you have the greatest job in the world！”
I looked at her warily and willed myself to remain calm。
“Well； you do；” she said。 “So she sounds difficult to please and a
little crazy。 Who isn’t？ You still get free shoes and makeovers and
haircuts and clothes。 The clothes！ Who on earth gets free designer
clothes just for showing up at work each day？ Andy； you work
atRunway； don’t you understand？ A million girls would kill for your
job。”
I understood。 I understood right then that Lily； for the first time
since I met her nine years before；didn’t understand。 She； like all
my other friends； loved hearing the crazy work stories I’d
accumulated in the past weeks—the gossip and the glamour—but she
didn’t really understand just how hard each day was。 She didn’t
understand that the reason I continued to show up； day after day；
was not for the free clothes； didn’t understand that all the free
clothes in the world wouldn’t make this job bearable。 It was time to
bring one of my best friends into my world； where； I was quite
certain； shewould understand。 She just needed to be told。 Yes！ It
was time to share with someone exactly what was going on。 I opened
my mouth to start； excited at the prospect of having an ally； but my
phone rang。
Dammit！ I wanted to throw it against the wall； tell whoever was on
the other end to go to hell。 But a small part of me hoped it was
Jonathan with some information。 Lily smiled and told me to take my
time。 I nodded sadly and answered。
“Is this Andrea？” asked a man’s voice。
“Yes； is this Jonathan？”
“It is indeed。 I just called Home and got your message。 I’m flying
back from Paris right now； somewhere over the Atlantic as we speak；
but you sounded so worried I wanted to call you back right away。”
“Thank you！ Thank you！ I really appreciate it。 Yes； I am a bit
worried； because I got a call from Miranda earlier today and it
seems strange that she hadn’t yet received the package。 You did give
it to the driver in Paris； right？”
“Sure did。 You know； miss； in my Business I don’t ask any questions。
Just fly where I’m told and when and try to get everyone there in
one piece。 But it’s sure not often I end up flying overseas with
nothing onboard but a package。 Must’ve been something real
important； I imagine； like an organ for a transplant or maybe some
classified documents。 So yes； I took real good care of that package
and I gave it to the driver； just like I was told。 Nice fella from
the Ritz。 No problems。”
I thanked him and hung up。 The concierge at the Ritz had arranged
for a driver to meet Mr。 Tomlinson’s private plane at