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“So you’d call her ambitious?”
“I’d call Vladimir Putin ambitious, sweetie. Monica I’d call something less flattering.”
“You don’t like her.”
“It’s a sticky situation for Brea
“How bad are things between them? I mean… could she have been the one who sabotaged Brea
Roman shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Do you know what exactly she brought to Brea
“Pages from the magazine. Royally mucked-up pages.”
“I need more.”
Roman sighed. “Trend ’s doing this huge piece on Nunzio in the magazine’s next issue-”
“I know about that. It’s going to include a photo of his Lover’s Spring sculpture. Janelle and I are turning it into a Prosecco Bellini fountain for the wedding.”
“Believe me, honey, I know all about that already. Bree consulted with me on every detail. Especially the food. Who do you think gave the thumbs-up to your friend Janelle Babcock in the first place?”
“Janelle’s not exactly a slouch. She was the pâtissier under Tommy Keitel.”
Roman hung his head, giving a moment of silence to the death of one of his favorite American chefs. “I do miss the king. And I well remember Janelle’s desserts under his reign at Solange. Ambrosia. I can’t wait to taste her confections on Saturday.”
“So, anyway, about Monica Purcell?”
“Oh, yes, well… Monica’s in charge of the pages on Nunzio. And there have been all sorts of problems getting them composed. Bree’s in a state because Nunzio has final approval of the profile Trend is publishing on him. He’s dropping by this evening to review it.”
“Why wouldn’t he approve it?”
“Nunzio’s known for his artistic temperament. In a fit of pique, if he doesn’t like the pages, he just might put the kibosh on the entire piece. And, from what Bree told me at lunch, there are all sorts of reasons the pages might give him heartburn: bad typefaces, clashing colors, blurred photos, and typos galore. Last week, Brea
“Is that a common thing? For the art department to ignore the chief editor’s notes for changes?”
Roman pursed his lips. “Let’s say it’s rare. If you want to keep your job under Brea
“So what really happened? Did Monica not give them Brea
“She claims she did. And Petra, the art director, claims she didn’t. So Brea
I might have let all of this go as typical office politics-if it hadn’t been for that nasty e-mail sent from Brea
Leaving Roman again, I slipped back to the fitting room area. By now, Adele was busy with another customer, and I was able to casually move back to Brea
“… and I still see typos, Monica, even in the pull quotes, for God’s sake. Get every last one of them fixed, do you hear me? Nunzio’s mother’s name is Rose not Pose.”
“Yes, Ms. Summour. What about the TK areas?”
“Nunzio knows there’ll be photos to come. He’s more concerned with checking over his biographical information and approving the cropping and layout of the photos taken at his workshop in Florence. Love’s Spring will be shot on Saturday at the wedding reception along with my rings.”
“Your wedding rings!” Monica exclaimed. “They still haven’t been photographed yet? But I thought they were already sent to you? Terri told me a package came a few days ago from Florence.”
“Nunzio’s bringing the rings from Italy personally. He should have them for me today.”
“Ooooh,” Monica gushed, “I’d die to see them!”
“I’m sure everyone will see them once they’re photographed.”
“I meant I’d die to see the actual rings.”
“I know what you meant. Just get those pages fixed and on my desk no later than four this afternoon. Got that?”
“Yes, Ms. Summour.”
I heard scuffling inside and quickly stood back. The fitting room door flew open again, and Monica’s thigh-high boots were off and ru
But the moment Monica hit the sidewalk, she pulled out her cell phone and made a call. I hustled along behind her through the crowds as she walked and talked, nearly colliding into her when she stopped on the edge of the curb and raised her hand to hail a cab.
The traffic was a snarl of buses, delivery vans, and SUVs. I bided my time, waiting for her to finish her call, when I realized the call itself was actually worth listening to: “… yes, Her Royal Bitchiness finally gave it up,” Monica told the person on the other end of the phone line. “Nunzio’s bringing the rings in to Brea
As a cab pulled up and Monica climbed in, I quickly backed off, checking my wristwatch to note the exact time. Given what I’d just heard, I decided to postpone my direct questioning of Monica Purcell. Since Brea
LESS than an hour later, Brea
A century ago, the monument had been erected to honor the intrepid Italian mariner, but these days Christopher was an afterthought. Columbus Circle was all about the Time Warner Center, a two billion dollar complex of twin eighty-story towers soaring above a seven-story base with an ingenious design that curved halfway around Christopher’s circle.
On a su
The complex also housed the offices of Brea
We exited the cab, walked through the Center’s main entrance, and took the escalator up through the arcade of upscale shops. Hanging a right, we moved through a pair of transparent doors tucked between the Samsung Experience and the Aveda hair care boutique. Inside this small, secluded lobby was a special bank of elevators that went directly up to the floors in the towers above.
We ascended over twenty levels and entered Trend’s offices, which were as sleek and sun-drenched as the arcade below: all glass and chrome and lacquered cherry wood.