Jules thought hard. Then she said, “Roche Bobois on Madison Avenue. We drove past it yesterday, and she glanced at the window. And then she had the catalog on her desk this morning.”

Allie’s jaw dropped. “Wow. But which stool?”

Jules shrugged. “We’ll just have to see what they have in the window display.” She gave Allie a serious look. “You’ve got to pay attention, Allie. Mostly this is going to be my job, but you’ll probably have to step in once in a while. Vivian expects you to read her mind. Notice as much as you can. If she shows any particular interest in something, remember it.”

“I don’t think I can do this job,” Allie whimpered.

Uh-oh. “Yes, you can,” Jules told her sharply. “We had a ton of applicants. You made it to the top. Right?”

She nodded, looking a little perkier.

“So you can do this,” Jules finished, not at all sure of that but desperate to keep Allie around until they got back from London Fashion Week at least. “Just pay attention and keep trying. Roll with the punches.”

They arrived at Roche Bobois. There were two footstools in the window, but Jules immediately zeroed in on the one on the left. “That one. The blue one with the modern lines. That’s the kind of thing she likes. Now, go in, order it, and have it sent to her home tonight. Not tomorrow or the day after—tonight. Rush delivery.”

Allie hurried inside. Ten minutes later, she emerged, looking flushed with victory. “It’ll be there by five thirty,” she proclaimed.

“Great!” Jules patted her shoulder.

Allie became radiant.

“You’ve made a good start.”

“I really want to do well.” Allie beamed. “I won’t let you down, Jules.”

She could practically be on a fifties sitcom. Jules managed a smile. “I know you won’t.”

That evening, after Allie had left, Jules overheard Vivian speaking on the phone in her office. She couldn’t hear the words, but Vivian’s tone was light and breezy, and she even chuckled once.

Then she said clearly enough, “Ciao, darling,” and in the same breath called, “Julia!”

Jules hurried in.

“Did the new girl do a good job picking out that footstool?” Vivian asked, looking at her phone. Her voice was mild, and she looked remarkably relaxed. Talk about being in a good mood.

Jules kept a straight face. “She sure did.”

Vivian glanced up at her.

She returned the glance with her most innocent look.

Vivian’s lips quirked.

For a second, Jules’s stomach fluttered, but then Vivian’s expression relapsed into its usual sangfroid.

She rose. “I’ll be having lunch away from the office tomorrow.” Just like last time, Vivian didn’t say where or with whom. “I’ll return by two. Make sure to update the schedule accordingly.”

“Okay.” Jules dared to add, “Good night.”

“Mm. Where’s my coat?”