Lauren Weisberger - Revenge Wears Prada - The Devil Returns

Emily shook her head. ‘I still can’t really believe it. You and Max Harrison. In a million years, I never would’ve thought of setting you guys up, and now look … it’s wild.’

‘We’re not getting married, Em. We’re just hanging out,’ Andy said, although she’d already fantasized about what it would be like to marry Max Harrison. A crazy thought to be sure – they’d known each other under two weeks – but already things felt different than they had with everyone she’d ever dated, with the possible exception of Alex all those years earlier. It had been so long since she was this excited about someone. He was sexy, smart, charming, and, okay, pedigreed. Andy had never imagined herself marrying someone like Max, but nothing about it sounded terrible.

‘Look, I get it. Enjoy. Have fun. Keep me in the loop, okay? And if you do get married, I want full credit.’

Emily was Andy’s first call when, a week later, Max asked her to be his date to a book party Max’s company was throwing in honor of one of its magazine editors, Gloria, who’d just published a memoir about growing up as the daughter of two famous musicians.

‘What do I wear?’ Andy asked in a panic.

‘Well, you’re officially cohosting, so it better be something fabulous. That eliminates pretty much your entire “classic” wardrobe. You want to borrow something of mine or go shopping?’

‘Cohosting?’ Andy all but whispered the word.

‘Well if Max is the host and you’re his date …’

‘Oh, god. I can’t handle this. He said there are going to be a ton of people there because it’s Fashion Week. I’m not prepared for that.’

‘You’ll just have to channel the old Runway days. She’ll probably be there too, you know. Miranda and Gloria definitely know each other.’

‘I can’t do this …’

The night of the party, Andy showed up to the Carlyle Hotel an hour early to help Max oversee the setup, and his expression alone when she stepped into the room, wearing one of Emily’s Céline dresses accessorized with chunky gold jewelry and gorgeous high heels, made it all worthwhile. She knew she looked great, and she was proud of herself.

Max had taken her into his arms and whispered how stunning she looked in her ear. That night, as he introduced her to everyone – his colleagues and employees, various editors and writers and photographers and advertisers and PR execs – as his girlfriend, Andy swelled with happiness. She chatted easily with all his work people and tried her best to charm them, and, she had to admit, had a wonderful time doing it. It wasn’t until Max’s mother showed up and homed in on Andy like a shark circling its prey that Andy felt herself get nervous.

‘I simply had to meet the girl Max can’t stop talking about,’ Mrs Harrison said in some kind of crusty, not-quite-British, probably-just-too-many-years-on-Park-Avenue accent. ‘You must be Andrea.’

Andy glanced quickly around for Max, who hadn’t even hinted his mother might be in attendance, before turning her full attention back to the toweringly tall woman in the tweed Chanel skirt suit. ‘Mrs Harrison? What a pleasure to meet you,’ she said, willing her voice to stay calm.

There was no ‘Please, call me Barbara’ or ‘Don’t you look lovely, dear,’ or even ‘It’s so nice to meet you.’ Max’s mother brazenly appraised Andy and pronounced, ‘You’re thinner than I thought you’d be.’

Pardon? According to Max’s description? Or her own reconnaissance? Andy wondered.

Andy coughed. She wanted to run and hide, but Barbara rattled on. ‘My, my, I remember being your age, when the weight would just fall off. I wish it was like that for my Elizabeth – have you met Max’s sister yet? She should be here soon – but the girl has her father’s body type. Bearish. Athletic. Not overweight, I suppose, but perhaps not quite feminine.’

Was that really how this woman talked about her own daughter? Andy instantly felt sorry for Max’s sister, wherever she was. She looked Barbara Harrison in the eye. ‘I haven’t met her yet, but I’ve seen a picture of Elizabeth and she’s just beautiful!’

‘Mmm,’ Barbara murmured, looking unconvinced. Her dry, slightly leathery hand wrapped around Andy’s bare wrist a bit more tightly than was comfortable and pulled – hard. ‘Come, let’s sit and get to know each other a bit.’

Andy tried her best to impress Max’s mother, convince Barbara that she was worthy of her son. Granted, Mrs Harrison had wrinkled her nose when Andy described her work at The Plunge, and she’d made some vaguely disparaging comment about Andy’s hometown not being anywhere near Litchfield County, where the Harrisons kept an old horse farm, but Andy didn’t leave the conversation thinking it was a disaster. She’d asked interested, appropriate questions of Barbara, told a funny anecdote about Max, and explained how they’d met in the Hamptons, a detail Barbara seemed to like. Finally, out of desperation, she mentioned her stint at Runway, working under Miranda Priestly. Mrs Harrison sat up a little straighter and leaned in for further questioning. Did Andy enjoy her time at Runway ? Was working for Ms Priestly simply the best learning experience she could have imagined? Barbara made a point of mentioning that all the girls Max grew up with would have killed to work there, that they’d all idolized Miranda and dreamed of one day being featured in her pages. If Andy’s little ‘start-up project’ didn’t work, might her future plans include a return to Runway ? Barbara had become downright animated, and Andy did her best to smile and nod as enthusiastically as she could manage.

‘I’m sure she loved you, Andy,’ Max said as they sat in a twenty-four-hour diner on the Upper East Side, still both amped up from the party.

‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t say it felt like love,’ Andy said as she sipped her chocolate shake.

‘ Everyone loved you, Andy. My CFO made a point of telling me how funny you were. I guess you told him some story about Hanover, New Hampshire?’

‘It’s my go-to anecdote for Dartmouth people.’

‘And the assistants were tittering all over the place about how pretty and sweet you were to them. I guess a lot of people don’t take the time to talk to them at parties like these. Thanks for doing that.’ Max offered Andy a ketchupy fry and when she refused, popped it into his own mouth.

‘They were all so genuinely nice. I loved hanging out with them,’ she said, thinking how she really had enjoyed meeting everyone, Max’s icy mother being the only exception. Plus she was thankful: Miranda hadn’t shown up. It was a blessing, but given her new romance and the Harrison family circles, Andy knew the time would come.

She reached across the table and took Max’s hand. ‘I had a great time tonight. Thanks for inviting me.’

‘Thank you, Ms Sachs,’ Max responded, kissing her hand and giving her a look that caused her stomach to drop in that telltale way. ‘Should we head back to my place? I think this night is just getting started.’