hope that you’re happy with the way things are going。”
“What’s that supposed to mean？” I asked nastily。
“Nothing； nothing；” she rushed to say。 “It doesn’t mean
anything other than just what I said： your dad and I only care
that you’re happy； and it seems that you’ve really been； um；
well； uh； pushing yourself lately。 Is everything OK？”
I softened a bit since she was clearly trying so hard。 “Yeah；
Mom； everything’s fine。 I’m not happy to be going to Paris；
just so you know。 It’s going to be a week of sheer hell；
twenty…four…seven。 But my year will be up soon； and I can put
this kind of living behind me。”
“I know； sweetie； I know it’s been a tough year for you。 I
just hope this all ends up being worth it for you。 That’s
all。”
“I know。 So do I。”
We hung up on good terms； but I couldn’t shake the feeling
that my own parents were disappointed in me。
The baggage claim at de Gaulle was a nightmare； but I found
the elegantly dressed driver who was waving a sign with my
name on it when I exited customs； and the moment he closed his
own door； he handed me a Cell Phone。
“Ms。 Priestly asked that you call her upon arrival。 I took the
liberty of programming the hotel’s number into the automatic
dialing。 She’s in the Coco Chanel suite。”
“Um； oh； OK。 Thanks。 I guess I’ll call right now；” I announced
rather unnecessarily。
But before I could press the star key and the number one； the
phone bleated and flashed a frightening red color。 If the
driver hadn’t been watching me expectantly I would have muted
the ring and pretended I hadn’t yet seen it； but I was left
with the distinct feeling that he had been ordered to keep a
close eye on me。 Something about his expression suggested that
it was not in my best interest to ignore that call。
“Hello？ This is Andrea Sachs；” I said as professionally as
possible； already making over/under bets with myself as to the
chance it was anyone besides Miranda。
“Ahn…dre…ah！ What time does your watch read at this moment？”
Was this a trick question？ A preface to accusing me of being
late？
“Um； let me see。 Actually； it says that it’s five…fifteen in
the morning； but obviously I haven’t switched it yet to Paris
time。 Therefore； my watch should read that it’s
eleven…fifteenA 。M。” I said cheerily； hoping to start off the
first conversation of our interminable trip on as high a note
as I dared。
“Thank you for that never…ending narrative； Ahn…dre…ah。 And
may I ask what； exactly； you’ve been doing for the past
thirty…five minutes？”
“Well； Miranda； the flight landed a few minutes late and then
I still had—”
“Because according to the itineraryyou created for me； I’m
reading that your flight arrived at ten…thirty…five this
morning。”
“Yes； that’s when it was scheduled to arrive； but you see—”
“I’ll not have you tell me what I see； Ahn…dre…ah。 That is
most certainly not acceptable behavior for the next week； do
you understand me？”
“Yes； of course。 I’m sorry。” My heart began pounding what felt
like a million beats a minute； and I could feel my face grow
hot with humiliation。 Humiliation at being spoken to that way；
but more than anything； my own shame in pandering to it。 I had
just apologized—most sincerely—to someone for not being able
to make my international flight land at the correct time and
then for not being savvy enough to figure out how to avoid
French customs entirely。
I pressed my face rather uncouthly against the window and
watched as the limo weaved its way through Paris’s bustling
streets。 The women seemed so much taller here； the men so much
more genteel； and just about everyone was beautifully dressed；
thin； and regal in their stance。 I’d only been to Paris once
before； but living out of a backpack in a hostel on the wrong
side of town didn’t quite have the same feel as watching the
chic little clothing boutiques and adorable sidewalk cafés
from the backseat of a limousine。I could get used to this； I
thought； as the driver turned around to show me where I might
find a few bottles of water if I was so inclined。
When the car pulled up to the hotel entrance； a
distinguished…looking gentleman wearing what I guessed was a
custom…made suit opened the back door for me。
“Mademoiselle Sachs； what a pleasure to finally meet you。 I am
Gerard Renaud。” His voice was smooth and confident； and his
silver hair and deeply lined face indicated he was much older
than I’d pictured when I spoke to the concierge over the
phone。
“Monsieur Renaud； it’s great to finally meet you！” Suddenly
all I wanted to do was crawl into a nice； soft bed and sleep
off my jet lag； but Renaud quickly quashed my hopes。
“Mademoiselle Andrea； Madame Priestly would like to see you in
her room immediately。 Before you’ve settled into yours； I’m
afraid。” He had an apologetic expression on his face； and for
a brief moment I felt sorrier for him than I did for myself。
Clearly he didn’t enjoy conveying this news。
“That’s fucking great；” I muttered； before noticing how
distressed this made Monsieur Renaud。 I plastered on a winning
smile and began again。 “Please excuse me； it was a terribly
long flight。 Will someone please tell me where I may find
Miranda？”
“Of course； mademoiselle。 She is in her suite and from what I
can gather； very eager to see you。” When I looked over at
Monsieur Renaud I thought I detected a slight eye…roll and
even though I’d always found him oppressively proper over the
phone； I reconsidered。 Although he was much too professional
to show it； never mind actually say anything； I considered
that he might loathe Miranda as much as I did。 Not because of
any real proof I had； but simply because it was impossible to
imagine anyonenot hating her。
The elevator opened and Monsieur Renaud smiled and ushered me
inside。 He said something in French to the bellman who was
escorting me upstairs。 Renaud bid me adieu and the bellman led
me to Miranda’s suite。 He knocked on the door and then fled；
leaving me to face Miranda alone。
I briefly wondered if Miranda herself would answer the door；
but it was impossible to imagine。 In the eleven months I’d
been letting myself in and out of her apartment； I’d yet to
catch her doing anything that even resembled work； including
such pedestrian tasks as answering the phone； removing a
jacket from a closet； or pouring a glass of water。 It was as
if her every day wasShabbat and she was once again the
observant Jew； and I was； of course； herShabbes goy 。
A pretty； uniformed maid opened the door and ushered me