Author's Note: Austen gets all of the blame for Emma being such a bitch to poor, stupid Harriet, but I get all of the blame for Harriet being such a bitch to poor, besotted Mr. Martin.

When I return to my hotel room, three hours later than I had planned, because I had a hell of a time catching a cab, and, once I finally caught a cab, I couldn't remember where to tell the driver to go, Robbie is there...in his rental tux. My brain cannot process this data, so I collapse on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and attempt an apology.

"I'm sorry for..."

"Telling me to get lost?"

"That seems like a good place to start."

"Hales, I'm not sure what I've done wrong, but I know you resent me for something."

"This trip is supposed to be about ME!"

"Have I done anything to make this trip about ME?"

"Well...no...but..."

"I want you to succeed just as much as you do, so what makes you think that I would try to sabotage you?"

Why couldn't I just tell him that he had humiliated me in front of Marge Bates? Because...I didn't want to accept that I was the sort of person who could be humiliated by being seen with my best friend.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you, Haley! I'm in love with you. That's why I spent hours tracking down candles and matches and roses."

Robbie Martin is IN LOVE with me? That's just more data my brain can't process, so I stare at the dancing flames of the candles, and I pick up a rose petal from the pile at the foot of the bed. Why had it taken me so long to notice the atmosphere he was trying to create?

"I need your phone," I say.

Predictably, he gives me what I need, and I leave the room, without so much as a glance at Robbie.

It's a good thing I hadn't removed my coat, because the napkin Harmony had written her phone number on was still in my pocket. After I begged her to rescue me, I told her where I was staying, and she offered to play chauffeur. I waited for her in the lobby, because I WAS NOT going back to that room until I absolutely had to. Robbie, true to form, gave me my space. It killed me that he was so good to me, even when I was so bad to him.

I had almost talked myself into mending fences with Robbie, when I realized that Harmony was tugging impatiently on my sleeve.

"Harmony, I really appreciate this."

I don't remember leaving the lobby, but I must have, because I was in her passenger seat.

"Puh-LEAZE! You're doing ME the favor! My friend just got married, so I could totally use some retail therapy."

"You don't like the guy?"

"I CHOSE the guy! My best friend, Evan, just reminded me that True might not have as much time for me anymore, which was something I hadn't considered when I was ensuring her future happiness."

"My best friend, Robbie, just told me that he's in love with me."

"Oh? What does he do?"

This struck me as an odd response. Shouldn't her first question be "How do you feel about him?""

"He's a camera man."

"Who does he work for?"

"No one, at the moment. He's still learning."

At least her mouth wasn't set in that thin line anymore.

"How do you feel about him?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You're the closest thing I have to a girlfriend here, and I desperately need some advice."

"Well, you and I did just meet, and I haven't even SEEN Robbie, so I can't tell you what to do."

Something in my eyes must have softened her heart, because she rushed to soothe me: "Even though I can't tell you what to do, I don't see the harm in giving you my two cents."

I wasn't sure how telling me what to do and giving me her two cents weren't the same thing, but I wasn't about to argue with my potential salvation.

"Do you like Robbie?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"He's nice to me."

"Other boys are nice."

"Okay?"

I thought about all of the times my pigtails had been pulled, and all of the times I had been pushed in the mud, and all of the times someone had reacted negatively toward my clothes. It seemed to me that Harmony might be over-estimating the niceness of boys.

"Haven't you ever met another nice boy?"

"No."

"That's the problem! You need to meet other boys!"

"But...Robbie is REALLY nice, so..."

"If you think Robbie is the nicest boy that you'll ever meet, I'll take you back to your hotel right now, and you can tell Robbie that you love him too. But, if you think there's a chance that you could EVER meet a boy who is nicer than Robbie, you owe it to yourself to keep your options open."

"So, I should tell Robbie that I don't love him, right?"

"If you're going to turn your best friend down, you have to be sure about what you want."

I took a minute to let Harmony's two cents sink in. If she had said "turn Robbie down," I would have said "HELL NO!" in a heartbeat, but "turn your best friend down" was a different story. Wasn't it? I couldn't risk losing my best friend. Then again, what if I gained a boyfriend without losing a best friend? Of course, that was a pretty big what if.

"You're right! I'm going to turn Robbie down," I declare, despite the watermelon-sized lump in my throat.

"Now that you have decided for yourself, I feel like I can tell you that you made the right choice. Besides, if you care about Robbie, you should want him to be with someone who returns his feelings."

Talking to Harmony Woodwin can put you into a trance, until she says something that make the warning sirens in your head start blaring. Did I really want someone else to be with Robbie? Maybe not. But I didn't know if I wanted to be with Robbie, which, as Harmony had pointed out, wasn't fair to him.

"Come on," Harmony commands.

Taking me by the hand, she drags me out of the food court, before I have a chance to feel guilty about leaving my trash on the table.

We turned the mall upside-down in our quest to find anything that wasn't plaid or fit for life in the country. Thirty bags worth of designer clothes later, I have no clue how I'll get everything into my suitcase, much less how I'll get it into my hotel room. Even though Harmony was kind enough to fund our shopping spree, I doubted that she would be kind enough to carry anything for me. I thought of Robbie, who would have carried more than thirty bags for me, and I felt terrible. It wasn't fair to compare Harmony with someone who had known me for years. Furthermore, it was even less fair to expect Robbie to do anything for me...given that I was about to dump him.

"I've been thinking about your situation."

"My situation?"

"You know, the reason you wanted to talk to me!"

"Right. Robbie."

"NOT Robbie! OTHER boys! I can introduce you to other boys, and I already know the PERFECT Bachelor Number One."

"I'm just not sure about..."

"You don't have to be sure, because I'M sure. Just promise to be at People Magazine's headquarters at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon."

Before I can protest, she shoves me, and my thirty bags, into a cab. I guess I will be schlepping my own stuff. What a perfectly shitty end to a perfectly shitty day!

Once I arrive in my room, I notice that the candles and the rose petals have been replaced by a note on the pillow that reads: "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere." Something tells me this declaration wouldn't fit into Harmony's plan to introduce me to other boys. I'm not sure what it is about this assignment, but I've been handling EVERYTHING completely wrong. I NEVER should have gone to my interviewee for advice, and I certainly NEVER should have agreed to let her set me up while I'm working. There was nothing left to do but order ice cream from room service, and sob hysterically into the empty carton, because I knew I would be just where Harmony had told me to be tomorrow afternoon.

At 3:25, I staggered, as fast as I could, because heels are not my friends, to the Information Desk, where Marge Bates, and the atrocity that was intended to cover her crotch, was jabbering at Harmony. "Harmony Woodwin, light of my life, I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow! And you," she turned her beady gaze upon me, "I've seen you here before, but you'll have to forgive me for not remembering your name. When you meet one hundred people every day, most of whom aren't worth a first look, it takes someone out of the ordinary to make an impression. You wouldn't believe the girl who was in here this week! You would have thought she'd ridden her horse here all the way from her farm."

Fortunately, Harmony knew how to salvage the moment. "Marge, how is that LOVELY granddaughter of yours?"

There's nothing elderly people like discussing more than grandchildren and all the ailments that could kill them, so Marge beamed radiantly at Harmony.

"Well, I was going to save this news for tomorrow, but, since you're here now, I may as well tell you: Janet dearest will be visiting VERY soon! You must have heard of my granddaughter! Her name is Janet Featherstone. She's a pop-star owned by Disney. Her fan base is a bit younger than you, but she is one of those Justin Bieber types who EVERYONE knows about."

"I thought Janet was touring Europe right now."

"She's taking the summer off to visit her granny, but she has agreed to give a concert while she's here. And that brings me to the favor I wanted you to do for me, Harmony."

"You know I can't resist you, Marge."

Marge Bates tittered gaily, and I considered jamming my fingers into my ears, because her tittering was almost as nightmare-inducing as her pathetic excuse for clothes.

"I was hoping you would look after Janet dearest while she's here. After all, you know everyone she'll be dealing with from the music industry."

"You don't have to worry about Janet, Marge! She'll be in good hands."

I couldn't help noticing that Harmony didn't promise to deal with Janet personally. Was there bad blood between them? I can't imagine how that could be the case, because Harmony takes pride in being universally adored. I've learned that from the hours, upon hours, upon hours of Perfect Harmony footage I had watched.

"I hate to leave so soon, Marge, but we have an appointment on Seven, so I'll see you tomorrow for coffee."

"I'm looking forward to it, Harmony. Should I call Shelly on Five to tell her you're here."

"That's alright, Marge! The photographer knows I'm coming."

Pho what now?

Once we were safely on the elevator, Harmony explained, "I've been having coffee with Marge Bates since she started working here. It was Evan's idea. I guess he thought I could use a mature woman's influence, but I don't know why he chose a mature woman who wears shorter skirts than I do. Skirts aside, Marge is a good person, as long as you can stand all of the talking."

"What about her granddaughter?"

I had seen my opportunity to be a journalist, and I took it, even though I wasn't sure I would make it out of the elevator alive.

"What ABOUT her granddaughter?"

There was definitely something dangerous in her tone.

"You just didn't seem excited about babysitting duty."

"Would YOU want to babysit the most BORING eighteen-year-old in the world?"

"She can't be THAT bad! Didn't you say she's been to Europe?"

"I can think of a much more interesting person who has been to Europe," she waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I'll have to remember to ask her about the interesting person who has been to Europe.

"I am going to reserve my judgment until I've met Janet."

Harmony frowned. I suspected that I wasn't being as obedient as she had expected.

"If her letters are anything to go by, and I suffer through one EVERY week, don't come crying to me when Janet Featherstone bores you to death!"

There was no time to defend Janet Featherstone, who could very well be the most boring eighteen-year-old in the world, because we were being kissed on both cheeks by Sven Echnovich.

non-damsel: Whew! This was doozy. Is it weird that I'm liking Emma more than Harriet right now? Up next: Frank Churchill!