I thanked him and hung up。 The concierge at the Ritz had arranged
for a driver to meet Mr。 Tomlinson’s private plane at de Gaulle and
transfer Harry back to the hotel。 If everything went as planned；
Miranda should’ve had those books by seven in the morning local
time； and considering it was already late afternoon there； I
couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong。 There was no choice： I had to
call the concierge； and since my cell wouldn’t dial internationally；
I had to find a phone that did。
I took the plate of now cold waffles back to the kitchen and dumped
them in the garbage。 Lily was lying on the couch again； half…asleep。
I hugged her good…bye and told her I’d call her later and headed out
to hail a cab back to the office。
“What about today？” she whined。 “I haveThe American President all
lined up and ready to go。 You can’t leave yet—our weekend’s not
over！”
“I know； I’m sorry； Lil。 I have to deal with this now。 There’s
nothing I’d rather do than stay here； but she’s got me on a pretty
short leash right now。 I’ll call you later？”
The office was； of course； deserted； as everyone was surely
brunching at Pastis with their investment banker boyfriends。 I sat
in my darkened area； took a deep breath； and dialed。 Blissfully；
Monsieur Renaud； my favorite of the Ritz concierges； was available。
“Andrea； dear； how are you？ We’re simply delighted to have Miranda
and the twins back with us again so soon；” he lied。 Emily told me
that Miranda stayed at the Ritz so frequently that the entire hotel
staff knew her and the girls by name。
“Yes； Monsieur Renaud； and I know she’s just thrilled to be there；”
I lied back。 No matter how acmodating the poor concierge was；
Miranda found fault with his every move。 To his credit； he never
stopped trying； and he never stopped lying about how much he loved
her； either。 “Listen； I’m wondering if that car you sent to meet
Miranda’s plane made it back to the hotel already？”
“Well of course； dear。 That was hours ago。 He must’ve returned here
before eight o’clock this morning。 I sent the best driver we have on
staff；” he said proudly。 If only he knew what his best driver had
been sent to shuttle around town。
“Well； that’s so strange； because I got a message from Miranda
saying that she never received the package； but I’ve checked with
the driver here who swears he dropped it at the airport； the pilot
who swears he flew it to Paris and gave it to your driver； and now
you who remember it arriving at the hotel。 How could she not have
received it？”
“It seems the only way to solve this is to ask the lady herself；” he
trilled in a fake…happy voice。 “Why don’t I connect you？”
I had hoped against all hope that it wouldn’t e to this； that I’d
be able to identify and fix the problem without having to speak to
her。 What would I tell her if she still insisted that she’d never
received the package？ Was I supposed to suggest that she look on the
table in her suite； where it was inevitably left hours earlier？ Or
was I supposed to go through the whole thing； private jet and all；
and get her two more copies by the end of the day？ Or perhaps I
should hire a secret service agent next time to acpany the books
on their journey overseas and ensure that nothing promises their
safe arrival？ Something to think about。
“Sure； Monsieur Renaud。 Thanks for your help。”
A few clicks and the phone was ringing。 I was sweating slightly from
the tension； so I wiped my palm on my sweatpants and tried not to
think what would happen if Miranda saw me wearing sweatpants in her
office。Be calm； be confident； I coached myself。She can’t disembowel
me over the phone 。
“Yes？” I heard from a faraway place； jolting myself out of my
self…help thoughts。 It was Caroline who； at a mere ten years； had
perfected her mother’s brusque phone manner perfectly。 Cassidy at
least had the courtesy to answer the phone with a “hello。”
“Hi； sweetie；” I crooned； hating myself for sucking up to a child。
“It’s Andrea； from the office。 Is your mom there？”
“You mean mymum ？” she corrected as she always did when I used the
American pronunciation。 “Sure； I’ll get her。”
A moment or two later； Miranda was on the line。
“Yes； Ahn…dre…ah？ This had better be important。 You know how I feel
about being interrupted when I’m spending time with the girls；” she
stated in her cold； clipped way。You know how I feel about being
interrupted when I’m spending time with the girls？ I wanted to
scream。Are you fucking kidding me； lady？ You think I’m calling for
my goddamn health？ Because I couldn’t bear to go a single weekend
without hearing your miserable voice？ And what about me spending
time with mygirls？ I thought I’d pass out from anger； but I took a
deep breath and dove right in。
“Miranda； I’m sorry if this is a bad time； but I’m calling to ensure
that you received the Harry Potter books。 I heard your message
saying that you hadn’t yet received them； but I’ve spoken to
everyone and—”
She interrupted me midsentence and spoke slowly and surely。
“Ahn…dre…ah。 You should really listen more closely。 I said no such
thing。 We received the package early this morning。 Incidentally； it
came so early that they woke us all up for the silly thing。”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing。 I didn’t dream that she’d
left the message； did I？ I was still too young even for early…onset
Alzheimer’s； right？
“What I said was that we didn’t receiveboth copies of the book； as I
had requested。 The package included only one； and I’m sure you can
imagine just how disappointed the girls are。 They were really
looking forward to each having theirown copy； as I had requested。 I
need you to explain why my orders weren’t followed。”
This wasn’t happening。 This couldn’t be happening。 I was definitely
dreaming now； living some sort of alternate…universe existence where
anything resembling rationality and logic were suspended
indefinitely。 I wouldn’t even let myself consider the absurdity of
what was unfolding。
“Miranda； I do recall that you requested two copies； and I ordered
two；” I stammered； hating myself yet again for pandering。 “I spoke
to the girl at Scholastic and am quite sure that she understood that
you needed two copies of the book； so I can’t imagine—”
“Ahn…dre…ah； you know how I feel about excuses。 I’m not particularly
interested in hearing yours now。 I expect something like this will
never happen again； correct？ That’s all。” She hung up。
I stood there for what must have been five full minutes； listening
to the squawking off…the…hook sound with the receiver pressed
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