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office。 My four glorious hours that were supposed to
constitute a full night’s sleep had been rudely interrupted by
a frantic call from one of Karl Lagerfeld’s assistants at sixA
。M。； which is precisely when I’d discovered that all of
Miranda’s phone calls were being routed directly tomy room for
answering。 It appeared the entire city and surrounding area
knew Miranda stayed here during the shows； and so my phone had
been ringing incessantly since the moment I stepped inside。
Never mind the two dozen messages that had already been left
on the voice mail。
“Hi； it’s me。 How’s Miranda doing？ Is everything OK？ Did
anything go wrong yet？ Where is she and why aren’t you with
her？”
“Hey； Em！ Thanks for caring。 How are you feeling； by the way？”
“What？ Oh； I’m fine。 A little weak； but getting better。
Whatever。 How isshe ？”
“Yes； well； I’m fine； too； thanks for asking。 Yes； it was a
long flight to get here and I haven’t slept for more than
twenty minutes at a time since the phone keeps ringing and I’m
pretty sure it’s never going to stop； and； oh！ I gave a
pletely impromptu speech—after writing an impromptu
speech—to a group of people who wanted Miranda’s pany but
apparently weren’t interesting enough to warrant it。 Looked
like a giant fucking idiot； actually； and nearly gave myself a
heart attack in the process； but hey； other than that； things
are just great。”
“Andrea！ Be serious！ I’ve been really worried about
everything。 There wasn’t a lot of time to prepare for this；
and you know that if anything goes wrong over there she’s
going to blame me anyway。”
“Emily。 Please don’t take this personally； but I can’t talk to
you right now。 I just can’t do it。”
“Why？ Is something wrong？ How did her meeting go yesterday？
Did she get there on time？ Do you have everything you need？
Are you making sure to wear appropriate clothes？ Remember；
you’re representingRunway over there； so you always have to
look the part。”
“Emily。 I need to hang up now。”
“Andrea！ I’m concerned。 Tell me what you’ve been doing。”
“Well； let’s see。 In all the free time I’ve had； I’ve gotten a
half…dozen or so massages； two facials； and a few manicures。
Miranda and I have really bonded over doing the whole spa
thing together。 It’s great fun。 She’s really trying hard not
to be too demanding； says she really wants me to enjoy Paris
since it’s such a wonderful city and I’m lucky to be here。 So
basically we just hang out and have fun。 Drink great wine。
Shop。 You know； the usual。”
“Andrea！ This is really not funny； OK？ Now tell me what the
hell is going on。” With every degree more annoyed she sounded；
my mood improved a notch。
“Emily； I’m not sure what to tell you。 What do you want to
hear？ How it’s been so far？ Let’s see； I’ve spent most of my
time trying to figure out how best to sleep through a phone
that won’t stop ringing while simultaneously shoving enough
food down my throat between the hours of two and sixA 。M。 to
sustain me for the remaining twenty hours。 It’s like fucking
Ramadan here； Em—no eating during daylight hours。 Yeah； you
should be really sorry you’re missing this one。”
The other line began blinking and I put Emily on hold。 Every
time it rang my mind went quickly； uncontrollably； to Alex；
wondering if he just might call and say that everything was
going to be just fine。 I’d called twice on my international
cell since I’d arrived and he’d answered both times； but like
the expert prank caller I’d been in junior high； I’d hung up
the moment I’d heard his voice。 It’d been the longest we’d
ever gone without talking and I wanted to hear what was going
on； but I also couldn’t help feeling like life had gotten
significantly simpler since we’d taken a break from the
bickering and the guilt…mongering。 Still； I held my breath
until I heard Miranda’s voice screeching from across the
wires。
“Ahn…dre…ah； when is Lucia due to arrive？”
“Oh； hello； Miranda。 Let me just check the itinerary I have
for her。 Here it is。 Let’s see； it says here that she was
flying in directly from the shoot in Stockholm today。 She
should be at the hotel。”
“Connect me。”
“Yes； Miranda； just a moment； please。”
I put her on hold and switched her back to Emily。 “That’s her；
hold on。”
“Miranda？ I just found Lucia’s number。 I’ll connect you now。”
“Wait； Ahn…dre…ah。 I’ll be leaving the hotel in twenty minutes
for the rest of the day。 I’ll need some scarves before I
return； and a new chef。 He should have a minimum of ten years’
experience in mostly French restaurants and be available for
family dinners four nights a week and dinner parties twice a
month。Now connect me to Lucia。”
I knew I should’ve gotten hung up on the fact that Miranda
wanted me to hire her a New York chef from Paris； but all I
could focus on was that she was leaving the hotel—without me；
and for the entire day。 I clicked back to Emily and told her
that Miranda needed a new chef。
“I’ll work on it； Andy；” she announced while coughing。 “I’ll
do some preliminary screening and then you can talk to a few
of the finalists。 Just find out if Miranda would like to wait
until she gets Home to meet them or if she’d prefer if you
arranged for a couple to fly there and meet with her now； OK？”
“You can’t be serious。”
“Well； of course I’m serious。 Miranda hired Cara when she was
in Marbella last year。 Their last nanny had just quit and she
had me fly three finalists to her so she could find someone
right away。 Just find out； OK？”
“Sure；” I muttered。 “And thanks。”
Just talking about those massages had sounded so good； I
decided to book one for myself。 There wasn’t an appointment
available until early evening； so I called room service in the
meantime and ordered a full breakfast。 When the butler
delivered it to me； I’d already crawled back into one of the
plush robes； donned a pair of the matching slippers； and
prepared myself to feast on the omelet； croissants； Danishes；
muffins； potatoes； cereal； and crepes that arrived smelling so
good。 After devouring all the food and two cups of tea； I
waddled back to the bed I hadn’t really slept in the night
before and fell asleep so quickly that I wondered if someone
had slipped something in my orange juice。
The massage was the perfect way to top off what had been a
blessedly relaxed day。 Everyone else was doing my work for me；
and Miranda had only called and woken me once—once！—to request
that I make her a lunch reservation the following day。This
isn’t so bad； I thought； as the woman’s strong hands kneaded
my twisted neck muscles。 Not a bad perk at all。 But just as I
started to drift off once again； the Cell Phone that I’d
grudgingly brought along began its persistent ring。
“Hello？” I said brightly； as if I weren’t lying naked on a
table covered in oil； half…asleep。
“Ahn…dre…ah。 Move my hair and makeup earlier and tell the
Ungaro people I can’t make it tonight。 I’ll be attending a
small cocktail party instead； and I expect you to e with
me。 Be ready to leave in an hour。”
“Um； sure； uh； sure；” I stammered； trying to process the fact
that I was actually going somewhere with her。 A flashback from
yesterday—the last time I was told at the very last minute
that I was to go somewhere with her—flooded my brain； and I
felt as though I would hyperventilate。 I thanked the woman and
charged the massage to the room even though I’d made it
through only the first ten minutes； and I ran upstairs to
figure out how to best maneuver around this newest obstacle。
This was getting old。 Quickly。
It took just a few minutes to page Miranda’s hair and makeup
people （who； incidentally； were different from my own—I was
pieced together by an angry…looking woman whose look of
despair on seeing me for the first time haunted me still；
while Miranda had a pair of gay guys who looked like they
stepped directly out of the pages ofMaxim ） and change her
appointment。
“No problem；” Julien squealed in a thick French accent。 “We
will be there； how you say？ Wearing bells！ We clear our
schedules this week just in the case that Madame Priestly need
us at different times！”
I paged Briget yet again and asked her to deal with the Ungaro
people。 Time to hit the wardrobe。 The sketchbook with all my
different “looks” was displayed prominently on the bedside
table； just waiting for a lost fashion victim like