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a small private museum in Paris and had developed an interest in
haute couture。 Hers was more of an artistic and aesthetic hobby than
a consumer one； but she still had some exposure； at least； to the
fashion world。 “We have some great news； too；” she continued；
reaching across the table for Kyle’s hand。 He had set down his
Coffee and extended both his hands。
“Oh； thank god；” my mother instantly exclaimed； slumping over as if
someone had finally lifted the two…hundred…pound dumbbell that had
rested on her shoulders for the last two decades。 “It’s about time。”
“Congratulations； you two！ I have to say you’ve had your mother
really worried。 You’re certainly not newlyweds anymore； you know。 We
were beginning to wonder 。 。 。” From the head of the table my dad
raised his eyebrows。
“Hey guys； that’s great。 It’s about time I get to be an aunt。 When’s
the little one due？”
They both looked dumbfounded； and for a moment I worried that we’d
gotten it all wrong； that their “good” news was that they were
building a newer； bigger Home in that swamp they lived in； or that
Kyle had finally decided to leave his father’s law firm and was
going to join my sister in opening the gallery she’d always dreamed
of。 Maybe we’d jumped the gun on this one； been just a little too
eager to hear that a future niece or grandson was on the way。 It was
all my parents could talk about lately； incessantly hashing and
rehashing the reasons why my sister and Kyle—already in their
thirties and with four years of marriage behind them—had yet to
reproduce。 In the past six months； the subject had progressed from
time…consuming family obsession to perceived crisis。
My sister looked worried。 Kyle frowned。 My parents looked as though
they might both pass out from the silence。 The tension was palpable。
Jill got out of her chair and walked over to Kyle； where she plopped
herself in his lap。 She wrapped her arm behind the back of his neck
and leaned her face next to his； whispering in his ear。 I glanced at
my mother； who looked about ten seconds away from unconsciousness；
the worry causing the small lines near her eyes to grow as deep as
trenches。
Finally； finally； they giggled； and turned toward the table； and
announced unanimously； “We’re going to have a baby。” And then there
was light。 And shrieking。 And hugging。 My mother flew out of her
seat so fast that she knocked it over and； in turn； tipped over a
potted cactus that rested by the sliding…glass door。 My dad grabbed
Jill and kissed her on both cheeks and the top of her head； and for
the first time I could remember since their wedding day； he kissed
Kyle； too。
I rapped my Dr。 Brown’s black cherry can with a plastic fork and
announced that we needed a toast。 “Please raise your glasses；
everyone； raise your glasses to the brand…new Sachs baby that will
be joining our family。” Kyle and Jill looked at me pointedly。 “OK； I
guess technically it’s a Harrison baby； but it will be a Sachs at
heart。 To Kyle and Jill； future perfect parents to the world’s most
perfect child。” We all clinked soda cans and coffee mugs and toasted
the grinning couple and my sister’s twenty…four…inch waist。 I
cleaned up by throwing the entire contents of the table directly
into a garbage bag while my mom tried to pressure Jill to name the
baby after various dead relatives。 Kyle sipped Coffee and looked
pleased with himself； and just before midnight my dad and I sneaked
off to his study for a game。
He turned up the white…noise machine he used when he had patients
during the day； both to block out the sounds of the household from
them and to keep anyone else in the house from hearing what was
discussed in his office。 Like any good shrink； my dad had placed a
gray leather couch in the far corner； so soft I liked to rest my
head on the armrest； and three chairs that angled forward and held a
person in a kind of fabric sling。 Womblike； he assured me。 His desk
was sleek and black and topped with a flat…screen monitor； and the
matching black leather chair was high…backed and very plush。 A wall
of psychology books encased in glass； a collection of bamboo stalks
in a very tall crystal vase on the floor； and some framed colorblock
prints—the only real color in the room—pleted the futuristic
look。 I flopped on the floor between the couch and his desk； and he
did the same。
“So； tell me what’s really going on； Andy；” he said as he handed me
a little wooden tile holder。 “I’m sure you’re feeling really
overwhelmed right now。”
I picked my seven tiles and carefully arranged them in front of me。
“Yeah； it’s been a pretty crazy couple weeks。 First moving； then
starting。 It’s a weird place； hard to explain。 It’s like； everyone’s
beautiful and thin and wearing gorgeous clothes。 And they really do
seem nice enough—everybody’s been really friendly。 Almost like
they’re all on serious prescription drugs。 I don’t know 。 。 。”
“What？ What were you going to say？”
“I can’t put my finger on it。 There’s just this feeling that it’s
all a house of cards that’s going to e crashing down around me。 I
can’t shake the feeling that it’s ridiculous to be working for
afashion magazine； you know？ The work’s been a little mindless so
far； but I don’t even care。 It’s challenging enough because it’s all
new； you know？”
He nodded。
“I know it’s a ‘cool’ job； but I keep wondering how it’s preparing
me forThe New Yorker 。 I must just be looking for something to go
wrong； because so far it seems too good to be true。 Hopefully； I’m
just crazy。”
“I don’t think you’re crazy； sweetie。 I think you’re sensitive。 But
I have to agree； I think you lucked out with this one。 People go
their entire lives and don’t see the things you’ll see this year。
Just think！ Your first job out of college； and you’re working for
the most important woman at the most profitable magazine at the
biggest magazine publishing pany in the entire world。 You’ll get
to watch it all happen； from the top down。 If you just keep your
eyes open and your priorities in order； you’ll learn more in one
year than most people in the industry will see in their entire
careers。” He placed his first word in the middle of the board； JOLT。
“Not bad for an opening move；” I said and counted its worth； doubled
it because the first word always went on a pink star； and started a
scorecard。 Dad： 22 points； Andy： 0。 My letters weren’t showing much
promise。 I added an A； M； and E to the L and accepted my paltry six
points。
“I just want to make sure you give it a fair shake；” he said；
switching his tiles around on his holder。 “The more I think about
it； the more I’m convinced this is going to mean big things for
you。”
“Well； I sure hope you’re right； because I have enough paper cuts
from wrapping to last a long； long time。 There better be more to the
whole thing than that。”
“There will be； sweetie； there will be。 You’ll see。 It might feel
like you’re doing silly stuff； but trust me； you’re not。 This is the
start of something fantastic； I can feel it。 And I’ve studied up on
your boss。 This Miranda sounds like a tough woman； no doubt about
it； but I think you’re going to like her。 And I think she’s going to
like you； too。”
He placed the word TOWEL down using my E and looked satisfied。
“I hope you’re right； Dad。 I really hope you’re right。”
“She’s the editor in chief ofRunway —you know； the fashion
magazine？” I whispered urgently into the phone； trying valiantly not
to get frustrated。
“Oh； I know which one you mean！” said Julia； a publicity assistant
for Scholastic Books。 “Great magazine。 I love all those letters
where girls write in their embarrassing period stories。 Are those
for real？ Do you remember reading the one where—”
“No； no； not the one for teenagers。 It’s most definitely for grown
women。” In theory； at least。 “Have you really never seenRunway ？”Is
it humanly possible that she hasn’t？ I wondered。 “Anyway； it’s
spelled P…R…I…E…S…T…L…Y。 Miranda； yes；” I said with infinite
patience。 I wondered how she’d react if she knew I actually had
someone on the line who’d never heard of her。 Probably not well。
“Well； if you could get back to me as soon as possible； I’dreally
appreciate it；” I told Julia。 “And if a senior publicist gets in
anytime soon；please have her call me。”
It was a Friday morning in the middle of December and the sweet；
sweet freedom of the weekend was only ten hours away。 I had been
trying to convince a fashion…oblivious Julia at Scholastic that
Miranda Priestly really was someone important； someone worth bending
rules and suspending logic for。 This proved significantly more
difficult than I had anticipated。 How could I have known that I’d
have to explain the weight of Miranda’s position to influence
someone who’d never even heard of the most prestigious fashion
magazine on earth—or its famous editor？ In my four short weeks as
Miranda’s assistant； I’d already figured out that such
weight…throwing and favor…currying was merely part of my job； but
usually the person I was attempting to persuade； intimidate； or
otherwise pressure yielded pletely at the mere mention of my
infamous boss’s name。
Unfortunately for me； Julia worked for an educational publishing
house where someone like Nora Ephron or Wendy Wasserstein was much
likelier to get VIP treatment than someone known for her impeccable
taste in fur。 I inherently understood this。 I tried to remember all
the way back to a time before I had ever heard of Miranda
Priestly—five weeks earlier—and couldn’t。 But I knew that such a
magical time had existed。 I envied Julia’s indifference； but I had a
job to do； and she wasn’t helping。
The fourth book in that wretched Harry Potter series was due to be
released the next day； a Saturday； and Miranda’s ten…year…old twin
daughters each wanted one。 The first copies wouldn’t arrive in
stores until Monday； but I had to have them in my hands on Saturday
morning—mere minutes after they were released from the warehouse。
After all； Harry and the crew had to catch a private flight to
Paris。
My thoughts were interrupted by the phone。 I picked it up as I
always did now that Emily trusted me enough to speak to Miranda。 And
boy； did we speak—probably in the vicinity of two dozen times a day。
Even from afar； Miranda had managed to creep into my life and
pletely take over； barking orders and requests and demands at a
rapid…fire pace from sevenA 。M。 until I was finally allowed to leave
at nineP 。M。
“Ahn…dre…ah？ Hello？ Is anyone there？ Ahn…dre…ah！” I jumped out of my
seat the moment I heard her pronounce my name。 It took a moment to
remember and accept that she was not； in fact； in the office—or even
in the country； and for the time being； at least； I was safe。 Emily
had assured me that Miranda was pletely unaware that Allison had
been promoted or I had been hired； that these were insignificant
details lost on her。 As long as someone answered the phone and got
her what she needed； that person’s actual identity was irrelevent。
“I simply do not understand what takes you so long to speak after
you pick up the phone；” she stated。 From any other person on earth
that would have sounded whiny； but from Miranda it sounded
appropriately co