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I need you to contact that idiot Renuad and tell him I expect
him to supply me with petent staff during my stay； and if
that’s too difficult I’m sure the general manager would be
able to assist me。 That dumb girl he sent me is mentally
challenged。”
My eyes swiveled to the sorrowful girl who was currently
cowering in the foyer； looking as fearful as a cornered
hamster as she trembled and tried not to cry。 I had to assume
she understood English； so I shot her my best sympathetic
look； but she just continued to shake。 I looked around the
room and tried desperately to remember everything Miranda had
just rattled off。
“Will do；” I called in the general direction of her voice；
past the baby grand piano and the seventeen separate flower
arrangements that had been lovingly placed around the
house…size suite。 “I’ll be back in just a moment with
everything you’ve asked for。” I quietly berated myself for
ending a sentence with a preposition and took one last look
around the magnificent room。 It was； undoubtedly； the
plushest； most luxurious place I’d ever seen； with its brocade
curtains； thick； cream…colored carpeting； richly woven damask
bedspread on the king…size bed； and gold painted figurines
tucked discreetly on mahogany shelves and tables。 Only a
flat…screen TV and a sleek； silver stereo system gave any
indication that the entire place hadn’t been created and
designed in the previous century by highly skilled craftsmen
plying their trade。
I ducked past the quaking maid and into the hallway。 The
terrified bellman had reappeared。
“Could you show me to my room； please？” I asked as kindly as I
could； but he clearly thought that I would be abusing him as
well； and so once again he scurried ahead of me。
“Here； mademoiselle； I hope this is acceptable。”
About twenty yards down the hall was a door without a separate
number on it。 It opened to a minisuite； nearly an exact
replica of Miranda’s but with a smaller living room and a
queen…size bed instead of a king。 A large mahogany desk
outfitted with a multiline corporate…style phone； sleek
desktop puter； laser printer； scanner； and fax machine had
taken the place of the baby grand piano； but otherwise the
rooms were remarkably similar in their rich； soothing décor。
“Miss； this door leads to the private hallway connecting your
room and Ms。 Priestly’s；” he explained as he moved to open the
door。
“No！ It’s fine； I don’t need to see it。 Just knowing it’s
there is good enough。” I glanced at the engraved nametag
placed discreetly on the pocket of his well…pressed uniform
shirt。 “Thank you； uh； Stephan。” I rooted around in my bag for
cash to tip him but realized that I’d never thought to change
my American dollars to euros and hadn’t yet stopped at an ATM。
“Oh； I’m sorry； I； uh； only have American dollars。 Is that
OK？”
His face flushed crimson and he began apologizing profusely。
“Oh； no； miss； please do not worry about such things。 Ms。
Priestly takes care of these details when she departs。
However； since you will be needing local currency when you
leave the hotel； allow me to show you this。” He walked over to
the behemoth of a desk； slid open the top drawer； and handed
me an envelope with FrenchRunway ’s logo on it。 Inside was a
pile of euro bills； about 4；000 American dollars’ worth in
all。 The note； scribbled by Briget Jardin； the editor in chief
who’d borne the brunt of planning and scheduling for both this
trip and Miranda’s uping party； read：
Andrea； darling； delighted to have you join us！ Please find
enclosed euros for your use while in Paris。 I’ve spoken with
Monsieur Renaud and he will be on call for Miranda twenty…four
hours a day。 See below for a listing of his work and personal
numbers； as well as the numbers for the hotel’s chef； physical
fitness trainer； director of transportation； and； of course；
the general manager。 They are all familiar with Miranda’s
stays during the shows and so there should be no problems。 Of
course； I may always be reached at work or； if necessary； by
cell； Home phone； fax； or pager if either of you requires
anything at all。 If I don’t see you before Saturday’s big
soiree； I’ll look forward to meeting you there。 Lots of Love；
Briget
Folded on a sheet ofRunway stationery and tucked underneath
the cash was a list of nearly a hundred phone numbers；
enpassing everything one could need in Paris； from a chic
florist to an emergency surgeon。 These same numbers were
repeated on the last page of the detailed itinerary I’d
created for Miranda using information Briget had updated daily
and faxed over； so as of this moment there didn’t appear to be
a single contingency—short of an all…out world war—that would
prevent Miranda Priestly from viewing the spring line with the
least possible amount of stress； anxiety； and concern。
“Thank you so much； Stephan。 This is most helpful。” I peeled
off a few bills for him anyway； but he courteously pretended
not to see it and ducked back into the hallway。 I was pleased
to see that he appeared significantly less terrorized than he
had just a few moments earlier。
I somehow managed to find the people she had asked for and
figured I had a few minutes to rest my head on the
four…hundred…thread…count pillowcase； but the phone rang the
moment I closed my eyes。
“Ahn…dre…ah； e to my room immediately；” she barked before
slamming down the phone。
“Yes； of course； Miranda； thank you for asking so nicely。 It’d
be my pleasure；” I said to absolutely nobody。 I heaved my
jet…lagged body off the bed and concentrated on not getting a
heel stuck in the carpeted hallway that connected my room to
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