Any thoughts of dizziness or hunger or exhaustion disappeared the
moment I spotted her tight； frowning face； and I flew out of my seat
to put the tray on her desk before she reached it herself。
I landed in my seat； head spinning； mouth dry； and totally
disoriented； just before her first Jimmy Choo crossed the threshold。
She didn’t so much as glance in my direction or； thankfully； seem to
notice that the real Emily wasn’t at her desk。 I had a feeling that
the meeting she’d just had with Mr。 Ravitz hadn’t gone so well；
although it could have just been her lingering resentment at having
to leave her office to go see someone else in theirs。 Mr。 Ravitz
was； so far； the only person in the entire building whom Miranda
rushed to acmodate。
“Ahn…dre…ah！ What is this？ Please tell me； what on earth is this？”
I raced into her office and stood before her desk； where we both
looked down at what was； quite obviously； the same lunch she ate
whenever she didn’t go out。 A quick mental checklist revealed that
nothing was missing or out of place or on the wrong side or cooked
incorrectly。 What was her problem？
“Um； it’s； uh； well； it’s your lunch；” I said quietly； making a
genuine effort not to sound sarcastic； which was difficult；
considering my statement was supremely obvious。 “Is something
wrong？”
In all fairness； I think she just parted her lips； but to my
near…delirious self； it looked like she was baring actual pointed
fangs。
“Is something wrong？” she mimicked in a high…pitched voice that
sounded nothing like my own； nothing human。 She narrowed her eyes to
slits and leaned closer； still refusing； as always； to raise her
voice。 “Yes； there’s something wrong。 Something very； very wrong。
Why do I have to e back to my office to findthis sitting on my
desk？”
It was like trying to solve one of those twisted riddles。 Why did
she have to e back to her desk to find this sitting on it； I
wondered。 Clearly； the fact that she had requested it an hour
earlier was not the correct answer； but it was the only one I had。
Did she not like the tray it was on？ No； that wasn’t possible： she’d
seen it a million times and hadn’t ever plained about it。 Had
they accidentally given her the wrong cut of meat？ No； that wasn’t
it； either。 The restaurant had once mistakenly sent me off with a
wonderful…looking filet； thinking that she was sure to enjoy it more
than the tough ribeye； but she’d almost had a full…fledged heart
attack。 She’d made me call the chef personally and scream at him
over the phone while she stood over me and told me what to say。
“I’m so sorry； miss； really I am；” he’d said softly； sounding like
the nicest guy in the world。 “I really just thought that since Ms。
Priestly is such a good customer that she’d prefer to have our best。
I didn’t charge her extra； but don’t worry； it won’t happen again； I
promise。” I felt like crying when she ordered me to tell him that he
would never be a real chef anywhere besides some second…rate steak
emporium； but I had done it。 And he had apologized and agreed； and
from that day on she’d always gotten her bloody ribeye。 So it wasn’t
that； either。 I had no idea what to say or do。
“Ahn…dre…ah。 Did Mr。 Ravitz’s assistant not tell you that we had
lunch together in that wretched dining room just a few moments ago？”
she asked slowly； as though she were trying to keep herself from
losing control pletely。
Shewhat？ After all of that； after all the running and the Sebastian
ridiculousness； and the angry phone calls； and the
ninety…five…dollar meal； and the Tiffany song； and the food
arranging； and the dizziness； and the waiting to eat until she came
back； andshe’d already eaten？
“Uh； no； we didn’t get a call from her at all。 So； uh； does that
mean you don’t want this？” I asked； motioning to the tray。
She looked at me as if I had just suggested she eat one of the
twins。 “What do you think that means； Emily？” Shit！ She’d been doing
so well with my name。
“I guess that； uh； well； that you don’t want it。”
“That’s very perceptive of you； Emily。 I’m lucky you’re such a quick
study。 Now remove it。 And make sure this does not happen again。
That’s all。”
A quick fantasy flashed forward； one in which I would； just like in
the movies； sweep my arm across the desk and send the whole tray
flying across the room。 She would watch and； shocked into
contriteness； apologize profusely for speaking to me like that。 But
the clicking of her nails against the desk brought me back to
reality； and I quickly picked up the tray and carefully walked out
of her office。
“Ahn…dre…ah； close the door！ I need a moment！” she called。 I guess
that having a gourmet lunch appear on her desk that she didn’t feel
like eating had been a really stressful part of her day。
Emily had just returned with a can of Diet Coke and a package of
raisins for me。 This was supposed to be the snack to tide me over to
lunch； and of course there wasn’t a single calorie or gram of fat or
ounce of added sugar in the whole thing。 She dropped them on her
desk when she heard Miranda calling and ran over to shut her French
doors。
“What happened？” she whispered； eyeing the untouched tray of food
that I was holding； frozen to the spot near my desk。
“Oh； it seems our charming boss already had her lunch；” I hissed
through clenched teeth。 “And she just reamed me out for not
predicting； not divining； not being able to look directly inside her
stomach and know that she wasn’t hungry anymore。”
“You’re kidding me；” she said。 “She yelled at you because you ran to
get her lunch—just like she asked—and then couldn’t possibly have
known that she’d already eaten somewhere else？ What a bitch！”
I nodded。 It was a phenomenal change of pace to have Emily actually
take my side for once； not to lecture me on all the ways I Just
Don’t Get It。 But； wait！ It was too good to be true。 Like a sun that
falls out of the sky； leaving only pink and blue streaks where it
had shone seconds before； Emily’s face flashed from angry to
contrite。 TheRunway Paranoid Turnaround。
“Remember what we talked about before； Andrea。” Oh； yes； here it
es。 RPT； twelve o’clock。 “She doesn’t do it to hurt you。 She
doesn’t mean anything by it。 She’s just way too important to get
held up on the little stuff。 So don’t fight it。 Just throw out the
food； and let’s move on。” Emily fixed her features in a determined
look and took a seat in front of her puter。 I knew she was
wondering right then and there if Miranda had had our outer office
areas bugged and had heard the whole thing。 She was red and
flust