“I wouldn’t have thought of van Noten with that piece.” Vivian sounded absent as she looked inside her handbag. “That’s an innovative idea.”

Was Jules going to fall out of her chair in shock? Probably not the chic thing to do. “Th-thanks. I—”

Vivian closed her handbag with a thump. She sounded as if she were confessing to murder when she said, “I need something to eat. Bring me a yogurt from the cafeteria. Nonfat and plain.”

All the yogurt in the cafeteria was nonfat. None of it was plain. Vivian glared when Jules placed vanilla before her.

“There’s a Whole Foods—” Jules began.

“There’s no time.” Vivian took the yogurt and devoured it, seeming resentful, while Jules stared off into space and pretended not to be there.

“I had breakfast,” Vivian said when she was done and tossed the empty plastic cup into a nearby trash can with unerring aim.

“Well, the doctor said that dairy is good,” Jules said. “Calcium and stuff.”

“I hate this,” Vivian said. “Don’t get pregnant, Julia.”

“N-not planning on it anytime soon.”

“Planning doesn’t always enter into it,” Vivian said darkly and sipped her water.

Jules had the sudden, horrible feeling that Vivian might actually start talking about her birth control when, mercifully, voices sounded down the hallway. Robert and his attorney had arrived early, and Preston was with them.

“—no interest in anything private,” Robert was saying.

Vivian stiffened. Jules’s desire to vanish into thin air redoubled.

“Well, we can talk about that,” Preston said jovially as he led the way into the conference room.

“My client said no, Preston,” Robert’s lawyer said. He nodded at Vivian as he and Robert seated themselves across the table. “Ms. Carlisle.”

Vivian pinched her lips and did not return the nod. “Robert,” she said neutrally.

“Vivian,” he replied in the same tone. He looked at Jules. “What’s she doing here?”

Jules had never liked Robert. This was yet another reminder of why. He’d always talked about her as if she weren’t right in front of him. She fought the urge to wrinkle her nose.

“I asked her to be here,” Vivian said coldly.

“And she is?” Robert’s lawyer asked.

“Ms. Carlisle’s personal assistant,” Preston interjected. “I believe it’s Jules—?”

“Julia Moretti,” Vivian said coldly.

Julia. Vivian had called her that since the beginning. She had always wondered why but had never dared to ask, since the answer was probably because I hate your nickname and command you to stop using it.

Robert’s lawyer said, “Nice to meet you, Julia. Sam Johnson.” He turned to Preston. “I see no reason not to begin.”

“Robert,” Vivian said, “I’m sorry, but we have to speak alone. Just for a minute.”

Jules wondered if anybody else heard the nearly hidden urgency in her voice, the note that was almost pleading.