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that would have sounded whiny； but from Miranda it sounded
appropriately cold and firm。 Just like her。 “In case you haven’t
been here long enough to notice； when I call； you respond。 It’s
actually simple。 See？ I call。 You respond。 Do you think you can
handle that； Ahn…dre…ah？”
I nodded like a six…year…old who’d just been reprimanded for
throwing spaghetti on the ceiling； even though she couldn’t see me。
I concentrated on not calling her “ma’am；” a mistake I’d made a week
earlier that had almost gotten me fired。 “Yes； Miranda。 I’m sorry；”
I said softly； head bowed。 And for that moment Iwas sorry； sorry
that her words hadn’t registered in my brain three…tenths of a
second faster than they had； sorry that my tardiness in saying
“Miranda Priestly’s office” had taken a fraction of a second longer
than absolutely necessary。 Her time was； as I was constantly
reminded； much more important than my own。
“All right then。 Now； after wasting all that time； may we begin？ Did
you confirm Mr。 Tomlinson’s reservation？” she asked。
“Yes； Miranda； I made a reservation for Mr。 Tomlinson at the Four
Seasons at one o’clock。”
I could see it ing a mile away。 A mere ten minutes earlier she’d
called and ordered me to make a reservation at the Four Seasons and
call Mr。 Tomlinson and her driver and the nanny to inform them of
the plans； and now she’d want to rearrange them。
“Well； I’ve changed my mind。 The Four Seasons is not the appropriate
venue for his lunch with Irv。 Reserve a table for two at Le Cirque；
and remember to remind the maî；tre d’ that they will want to sit in
theback of the restaurant。 Not on display in the front。The back 。
That’s all。”
I had convinced myself when I first spoke with Miranda on the phone；
that by uttering “that’s all；” she really intended those words to
mean “thank you。” By the second week I’d rethought that。
“Of course； Miranda。Thank you； ” I said with a smile。 I could sense
her pausing on the other end of the line； wondering how to respond。
Did she know I was calling attention to her refusal to say thank
you？ Did it seem odd to her that I was thanking her for ordering me
around？ I had recently begun thanking her after every one of her
sarcastic ments or nasty phone…in mands； and the tactic was
oddly forting。 She knew I was mocking her somehow； but what could
she say？Ahn…dre…ah； I never want to hear you thank me again。 I
forbid you to express your gratitude in such a manner！ e to think
of it； that might not be that much of a stretch。
Le Cirque； Le Cirque； Le Cirque；I said over and over in my head；
determined to make that reservation ASAP so I could get back to the
significantly more difficult Harry Potter challenge。 The Le Cirque
reservationist immediately agreed to have a table ready for Mr。
Tomlinson and Irv whenever they arrived。
Emily walked in a from a stroll around the office and asked me if
Miranda had called at all。
“Only three times； and she didn’t threaten to fire me during any of
them；” I said proudly。 “Of course； she did intimate it； but she
didn’t all…out threaten。 Progress； no？”
She laughed in the way she did only when I made fun of myself； and
she asked what Miranda； her guru； had wanted。
“Just wanted me to switch around B…DAD’s lunch reservation。 Not sure
why I’m doing that when he has his own assistant； but hey； I don’t
ask questions around here。” Mr。 Blind； Deaf； and Dumb was our
nickname for Miranda’s third husband。 Although to the general public
he appeared to be none of those； those of us in the know were quite
confident he was all three。 There was； quite simply； no other
explanation for how a nice guy like him could tolerate living
withher 。
Next； it was time to call B…DAD himself。 If I didn’t call soon； he
may not be able to get to the restaurant in time。 He’d flown back
from their vacation for a couple days of Business meetings； and this
lunch with Irv Ravitz—Elias…Clark’s CEO—was among the most
important。 Miranda wanted every detail perfect—as though that were
something new。 B…DAD’s real name was Hunter Tomlinson。 He and
Miranda had gotten married the summer before I started working；
after what I’d heard was a rather unique courtship： she pursued； he
demurred。 According to Emily； she’d chased him relentlessly until
he’d yielded from the mere exhaustion of ducking her。 She’d left her
second husband （the lead singer of one of the most famous bands from
the late sixties and the twins’ father） with absolutely no warning
before her lawyer delivered the papers； and was married again
precisely twelve days after the divorce was finalized。 Mr。 Tomlinson
followed orders and moved into her penthouse apartment on Fifth
Avenue。 I’d only met Miranda once and I’d never met her new husband；
but I’d logged enough phone hours with each that I felt；
unfortunately； like they were family。
Three rings； four rings； five rings 。 。 。hmm； I wonder where his
assistant is？ I prayed for an answering machine； since I wasn’t in
the mood for the mindless； friendly chitchat of which B…DAD seemed
so fond。 Instead； I got his secretary。
“Mr。 Tomlinson’s office；” she trilled in her deep southern drawl。
“How may I help you today？”How mah I hep ya tuhday？
“Hi； Martha； it’s Andrea。 Listen； I don’t need to talk to Mr。
Tomlinson； can you just give him a message for me？ I made a
reservation for—”
“Darlin’； you know Mr。 T。 always wants to talk to you。 Hold just a
sec。” And before I could protest； I was listening to the elevator
version of “Don’t Worry； Be Happy” by Bobby McFerrin。 Perfect。 It
was fitting that B…DAD had picked the most annoyingly optimistic
song ever written to entertain callers