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　when　they　were　put　on　hold。
  “Andy；　is　that　you；　sweetheart？”　He　asked　quietly　in　his　deep；
  distinguished　voice。　“Mr。　Tomlinson　is　going　to　think　you’re
  avoiding　him。　It’s　been　ages　since　I’ve　had　the　pleasure　of　speaking
  with　you。”　A　week　and　a　half；　to　be　precise。　In　addition　to　his
  blindness；　deafness；　and　dumbness；　Mr。　Tomlinson　had　the　added
  irritating　habit　of　constantly　referring　to　himself　in　the　third
  person。
  I　took　a　deep　breath。　“Hello；　Mr。　Tomlinson。　Miranda　asked　me　to　let
  you　know　that　lunch　is　at　one　today　at　Le　Cirque。　She　said　that
  you’d—”
  “Sweetheart；”　he　said　slowly；　calmly。　“Enough　with　all　that
  plan…making　for　just　a　second。　Give　an　old　man　a　moment　of　pleasure
  and　tell　Mr。　Tomlinson　all　about　your　life。　Will　you　do　that　for
  him？　So　tell　me；　dear；　are　you　happy　working　for　my　wife？”　Was　I
  happy　working　for　his　wife？　Hmm；　let’s　see　here。　Are　little　baby
  mammals　squealing　with　glee　when　a　predator　swallows　them　whole？Why
  of　course；　you　putz；　I’m　deliriously　happy　working　for　your　wife。
  When　neither　of　us　is　busy；　we　give　each　other　mud　masks　and　gossip
  about　our　love　lives。　It’s　a　lot　like　a　slumber　party　among　friends；
  if　you　must　know。　The　whole　thing　is　just　one　big　laugh　riot　。
  “Mr。　Tomlinson；　I　love　my　job　and　I　adore　working　for　Miranda。”　I
  held　my　breath　and　prayed　that　he’d　give　it　up。
  “Well；　Mr。　T。　is　just　thrilled　that　things　are　working　out。”Great；
  asshole；　but　are　youthrilled？
  “Sounds　great；　Mr。　Tomlinson。　Have　a　great　lunch；”　I　cut　him　off
  before　he　inevitably　asked　about　my　weekend　plans；　and　hung　up。
  I　sat　back　in　my　chair　and　gazed　across　the　office　suite。　Emily　was
  engrossed　in　trying　to　reconcile　another　one　of　Miranda’s　20；000
  American　Express　bills；　her　highly　waxed　brow　furrowed　in
  concentration。　The　Harry　Potter　project　loomed　ahead　of　me；　and　I
  had　to　get　moving　on　it　immediately　if　I　ever　wanted　to　get　away
  this　weekend。
  Lily　and　I　had　planned　a　movie　marathon　weekend。　I　was　exhausted
  from　work　and　she　was　stressed　out　from　her　classes；　so　we’d
  promised　to　spend　the　whole　weekend　parked　on　her　couch　and　subsist
  solely　on　beer　and　Doritos。　No　Snackwells。　No　Diet　Coke。　And
  absolutely　no　black　pants。　Even　though　we　talked　all　the　time；　we
  hadn’t　spent　any　real　time　together　since　I’d　moved　to　the　city。
  We’d　been　best　friends　since　eighth　grade；　when　I　first　saw　Lily
  crying　alone　at　a　cafeteria　table。　She’d　just　moved　in　with　her
  grandmother　and　started　at　our　school；　after　it　became　clear　that
  her　parents　weren’t　ing　Home　any　time　soon。　They’d　taken　off　a
  few　months　before　to　follow　the　Dead　（they’d　had　her　when　they　were
  both　nineteen　and　were　more　into　bong　hits　than　babies）；　leaving　her
  behind　to　be　watched　over　by　their　whacked…out　friends　at　the
  mune　in　New　M