My phone jarred me awake at six o'clock. Half asleep, I picked it up and muttered hello.

"Rise and shine, Ms. Sachs" Theo said tartly. "I have an assignment for you. Get a pencil and write this down."

I managed to restrain myself from groaning only through sheer effort of will. I fumbled for the hotel stationary and pencil that lay inside the desk. "Yes, sir."

"There's a little restaurant called Nora Lee's about five miles away from the Blackstone. I want you to sample their lunch menu."

"Ok—all right."

"I am also loaning you to your old boss for the day. Nora Lee's also features jewelry designed and handmade by the owner. Ms. Priestley has decided to have a look at it and mentioned she would need some help."

I grinned to myself. I couldn't help it. Did he have any idea how transparent he was being? Aloud, I said. "Yes, sir."

"Bring the laptop, your notebook, and a good attitude. I want nothing less than a sterling report of your behavior, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Absolutely." I cleared my throat, which was tickling madly with repressed hysterical giggles.

"Right. You will be there at 11:30. Get the directions from Map Quest." He hung up and I burst into laughter. And the more I laughed the funnier it got. I couldn't imagine a more unlikely Cupid than Theo Marsden—he would have criticized Botticelli's Venus for being too fat—but clearly he was trying to throw me and Miranda together. I wondered if she knew. Or maybe had asked him to. Oh dear God. What in the hell would I wear?!

I flew to the closet and rummaged through the stuff I'd brought. Sadly, very little of it would do to lunch with Miranda, although it was just fine for toodling around on my own. The leather jacket, of course. Some black slacks and a chocolate-brown sweater…shoes? I cursed. I had not packed a single pair with high heels, since I do not associate high heels with the country. Of course, I had never seen Miranda wearing anything else. The closest thing I had were some black ankle boots with low heels. They would have to do, unless I could buy something. On the other hand, they were secondhand Chanel, which Miranda would approve of more than she would a high heel in a knockoff brand. And I had brought some of my best accessories with me. Some of the pieces even dated from my Runway days. I took special care of my hair and makeup. If I was going to make a complete fool of myself, at least I could look smashing while I did it.

Breakfast at the Blackstone was at seven. I was relieved when I got through the whole meal without seeing either Christian or Miranda (somehow, I wasn't quite ready to face her yet), and delighted when I tasted the light, feathery crepes with fresh strawberries. The coffee, while not as good as Theo's personal blend, was still excellent: rich and creamy and strong without being bitter.

As I drove to Riverbury, the small village where Nora Lee's was located, I tried to ignore the fact that my stomach seemed to be full of nervous butterflies. Calm down, I told myself. Miranda will probably spend the day sending you running all over the planet and making her phone calls. She may know that Theo's jerking her around to an extent but as yet, you don't know if she has any idea why.

Riverbury managed, to its credit, to be picturesque without being too touristy. I arrived around 10:30 and spent my time walking around the main square. It had an actual square of green grass that made a little park in front of the town hall, just like something out of a post card. I looked in some of the shop windows then went into the park and sat down on a bench. I didn't see Miranda's Jaguar anywhere; I hoped I wasn't going to be stood up.

At 11:00, I made my way over to Nora Lee's, which was on the north side of the square. It was a little bistro-type place with the owner's jewelry displayed in a glass case at the front. I looked at the pieces, making a game of trying to guess which ones Miranda might like. I thought Nora Lee, whoever she was, was quite talented. There was a necklace in delicate crystal beadwork as fine as a spider's web, some tiny flower-shaped gold-tone earrings with what looked like peridot set into the centers, and a gorgeous pin in amethyst and silver. The rest was lovely, too, but not much different from what other designers were doing.

"Good afternoon! Welcome to Nora Lee's." A thin, dark haired girl stood at a counter on which there was an old-fashioned cash register with brass scrollwork all over it. She smiled, showing braces on her teeth. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Priestley?" I asked.

The girl looked down at a clipboard. "Priestley…there's no Priestley here. All I have is a Princhek."

"That's it" I said, relieved that I remembered Miranda's original name.

"Party of two?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to wait?"

"Sure." Relieved that she hadn't yet arrived and that I would at least not be bitched out for being late, I took a seat on Queen Anne-style sofa near the door. My palms were beginning to sweat and my mouth felt dry. I re-applied lipstick and decided that three cups of coffee probably hadn't been the best idea.

Miranda came through the door at 11:30 on the dot, wearing gray slacks and a white silk shirt and her sunglasses. I rose as she approached. "Is the table ready, Ahn-dre-ah?" she said instead of hello.

"Yes, it is" I answered. I wasn't offended. If Miranda was behaving like, well, Miranda, then I would be a lot less nervous. I nodded to the hostess. "She's here."

"Follow me, please." The girl chirped with a bright smile. I saw Miranda looking her up and down with that familiar appraising stare. The hostess was wearing a simple black skirt and charcoal top with a pendant that looked like hematite on a silver chain. Miranda nodded slightly to herself.

Our table was in a back booth near a sunny window that overlooked a little patio out back. "Mr. Marsden tells me I'm to help you today" I said when we were seated. I got out my notebook and a pen. "What do you need?"

"You need to put that thing away" she said, sounding irritated. "Mr. Marsden is full of…well, I think you know."

"I do indeed" I said. She smiled faintly. "How long have you known what he was doing, Ahn-dre-ah?"

"Since about two months in" I sighed and re-capped my pen. "I knew it couldn't be an accident when you kept showing up whenever he and I were out together. Especially since you didn't have Emily or anyone with you. I just assumed that you wanted to witness my humiliation."

"I did. At first." Miranda looked down at her hands as our waitress came over with menus and asked if we wanted coffee. I declined and asked for water with lemon. Miranda had the same.

"You went to so much trouble" I went on when the waitress was gone. "You paid my hospital bills, you became friends with my parents, you had Runway buy the Mirror for God's sake! I thought, after Paris, that you would never want to see me again."

"I thought so too, until you got shot." Miranda shook her head. "I don't think I've been that frightened since Cassidy had a near-fatal asthma attack when she was five. I was so angry when you left that I thought it was a perfect opportunity to humble you—to make you owe me—but I was terrified, too." She looked up and smiled with a touch of bitterness. "However angry I was, I never wanted you dead."

"That's a relief" I said. She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a smartass, Ahn-dre-ah."

I grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it." Is she actually talking to me like an equal?

"I was determined to have you back where I could at least keep an eye on you. At the time, I told myself that it would be very nice if you became successful—and were never allowed to forget that you owed me your success."

"I remember that conversation."

Miranda winced. "So do I. I was so stupid. Theo helped me see how stupid I was." She looked me straight in the eye. "But I'm not sorry I did what I did. You are a wonderful writer, Ahn-dre-ah. And you were there for me when I badly needed help. I'm looking forward to reading your articles in the New Yorker or Time or wherever you decide to go in the end."

"Why did you screw Nigel over, Miranda?" I asked softly. "How could you do that? He was one of your best people and he was loyal to you."

"I know that. And I wish it hadn't been necessary, but the truth is that unbeknownst to me, Jacqueline had been cultivating Irv Ravitz for over a year. They had developed a very cozy little relationship—Irv is a notorious womanizer, as I'm sure you've heard. I had hoped to pass the reins to Nigel eventually, but as it was, the only thing I could do was to make sure Jacqueline got an even better offer. As soon as she signed on with James Holt, I began the process of recommending Nigel for Runway Francais. And in the end, he forgave me."

"When you said all that about how I'd done the same thing....you know, to Emily…I panicked" I said honestly. "You were so alone. Except for your kids, I couldn't think of a single person I had met who was your friend—a real friend, and I knew it was because Runway was your top priority. I was afraid of becoming that. My fiancé and my best friend had both broken up with me over my job! I didn't want to end up alone, no matter how famous or rich I got. That life wasn't worth it to me. I wanted to make a difference in the world, but not at that cost."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Who, at this point, do you think is in the better position to 'make a difference': you or me?"

"I know" I sighed. "Like I said, I panicked. And it never even occurred to me that when you talked to me about how worried you were about the girls, that you were trusting me, or what a gift that was. I was stupid, too." I shook my head. "And you were right. I did choose to get ahead. Emily was never my friend, but I could have quit."

"And if you had, you would have been essentially unemployable" Miranda said calmly. "One thing I test in all my girls, when they are ready for promotion, is whether they are prepared to make exactly those choices. If they are not, then they do not have what it takes to be at the top. And if they don't have that, they don't last long in the magazine world. Do you think if the positions had been reversed, that Emily would have stood aside for you?"

"Never" I said, laughing. Miranda smiled a real smile, her full lips curving up at the corners. She looked beautiful. I gulped and looked down at the menu without really seeing it. In another minute I was going to start blushing like I was twelve or something.

"Are you ladies ready to order?" our waitress asked, gliding over, pencil and pad at the ready.

"I'll have the apple-walnut salad and the grilled salmon" Miranda gave her a pleasant smile as she handed back her menu. "Ahn-dre-ah?"

Nobody ever pronounced my name the way Miranda did. When I worked at Runway, it used to make my insides fall into my shoes because it meant I'd screwed up. Hearing it now gave me the same physical reaction in a different way. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. "The lobster bisque, the clam chowder, the salmon, the steak—medium, please, the oyster appetizer and the cheesecake and apple tart to follow, please."

The waitress stared. "All of that?!" she asked incredulously.

Miranda gave her a withering look, but I just passed the girl Theo's business card. Her mouth fell open. "Oh my God! You work for Theo Marsden?! He wants to review us?! Will you excuse me? Nora is going to want to speak with you herself. Is that okay?"

"Of course" I said. Miranda rolled her eyes again, sighed, and slid her sunglasses back on as soon as the girl had scuttled off. "I don't suppose it crossed your mind, Ahn-dre-ah, that Theo will care nothing about this place or its owner? That sending you here was simply a blind?"

"He told me to sample the lunch menu and that's what I'm doing" I retorted. "It may have been a fake, but I'm willing to bet he'll still ask for the review"

"I think it's my turn to go to the ladies' room" she said as she stood up. "I spoke to Theo last night. He offered to arrange for us to speak privately."

"Then he should have told me. I've known what he's been doing for months; I don't know how he could have expected me not to figure it out, but—"

"He does know you've figured it out." Miranda departed for the bathroom, shaking her head at my obtuseness. The waitress re-appeared with the owner/chef, who shook my hand warmly and smiled when I complimented her jewelry. "I hope you like the food just as much."

"I hope so, too." I smiled my professional smile. "How long have you been in business?"

"Five years this June" she settled herself in the booth opposite me. "Kirsten" she said to the waitress, "Table five's order is up." The girl hurried away.

"And you're the chef."

"That's right. I started this place with money I got from my divorce. My ex-husband and I used to summer here and we loved the area. My partner Gillian runs the business end. You met her at the front door."

"The girl with the braces? She seems awfully young for a business partner."

Nora chuckled. "Don't let that sweet face fool you. Gillian's thirty-six. She just had to get the braces last year." She toyed with a small silver ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. "We've been together for five years. She handles the hostessing during the day, the accounts, and the hiring while I cook. She also handles the web site. Gus McBride is my assistant chef, and he joined us two years ago. So far I have ten servers per shift—about 20 total—plus 10 bus people and 2 dishwashers."

"So your growth must have been pretty good since you opened."

"Yes. I've been lucky that so far, there haven't been any serious competitors. Before the Blackstone changed their staff, Riverbury didn't get many tourists. Now that's starting to change and I'm in the lead at the moment." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miranda returning from the bathroom. Nora saw her too and stood up. "I hope you both enjoy the meal." She extended her hand to Miranda. "Hi. I'm Nora Lee."

"Nice to meet you" Miranda said pleasantly. "Can I ask you for some of the lobster bisque? It looked delicious and I'm afraid I forgot to tell our waitress to bring it with my salad."

"Of course. I'll send her right out." Nora bustled away as Miranda sat down, shades still on. I wondered, irrelevantly, if she had kept them on the whole time she was in the john.

"Are you finished interviewing people?" she inquired in acid tones.

"Yes" I sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I think if you want privacy, we'd better go for a drive afterwards. There's usually nothing more private than a moving car. Did you check out the jewelry? Some of it's really good."

"I have no intention of checking out the jewelry. Runway deals with established designers."

I made a snap decision. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?"

I went to the front of the restaurant and asked Gillian how much the amethyst pin was. "Seventy-five" she replied. "Are you interested in it?"

"Will you take a check from a New York bank?"

"We can" she said, "but a debit card works better if you have one."

I forked over my card. Seventy-five bucks was a lot of money, but I knew Miranda would love the pin. Gillian took it out of the case. "Would you like me to gift-wrap it for you?"

"No, thanks. Just hand it to me"

She handed me the pin and I returned to the table. Miranda raised her eyebrows as I sat down and put the pin on the table. "Look at this" I said, "and tell me this is not unique."

Miranda sat forward and took her glasses off. She held up the pin to the light. The design was an extraordinarily delicate flower-and-vine motif, set at a curving angle. "This is quite good" she said, sounding surprised.

"I told you so."

She turned it this way and that, examining the workmanship. "She does these herself?"

"Yes, from what Theo told me."

Miranda nodded. Twice. I grinned to myself. In Miranda-ese, two nods means very good. She took out her cell and flipped it open. "What's the number here?"

"I'll find out."

I got the info from Gillian who smiled and asked me if my friend liked the pin. I tried not to be distracted by the idea that Miranda and I might be friends. Today was the first time since Paris that she had even spoken to me like a human being.

Miranda immediately dialed her office and left a message for her assistant about calling the restaurant where she was presently seated, while I tried not to snort. It was so typically Miranda.

"Here", flipping her phone closed, she tried to hand the pin back to me.

"Keep it", I said. "I bought it for you."

She actually looked taken aback at that. "Are you sure? It's a lovely piece."

"No, it's yours. Keep it. Consider it a thank-you."

Her face actually went a bit pink and for a moment, I thought she would refuse, but she took the pin and fastened it immediately to her shirt, where it glowed against the white silk. "Thank you, Ahn-dre-ah" she said softly.

"You're welcome.