Page 22 of VOGUEish

Isabella swirled around and stared hard at Chandler. “You’re the Pillar?”

“The who?” he asked.

“The guy I ran into.” She’d barely looked him in the eyes that night, and when she had, she’d been crying. She shook her head to clear the fog. “I was so distraught.” She walked over to him and inhaled. His cologne. That she remembered. “You still wear the same scent.”

He nodded. “It was my father’s favorite.”

“Did you know who I was all this time?” Isabella asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not until Nonna told me. Like you, I remembered your scent. And your profile yesterday struck a memory.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you for being there for me that night and for calling Ms. Birdie.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was definitely not nothing. The two of you saved my life.” Isabella had never said that out loud, but there it was. While she did not suffer from debilitating depression the way her mother did, she’d had bouts of it while growing up. Once, she’d missed an entire month of school due to depression and had to be homeschooled. But that had all changed once she had met Ms. Birdie.

Ms. Birdie stood and held out her arms to Isabella.

Isabella abandoned her fear of falling and rushed into them. She was immediately wrapped up in a grandmotherly hug.

“You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” Ms. Birdie whispered against Isabella’s hair. “You are the exact vision of the young woman you described while telling me about your comeback moment. I am so proud of you.”

Isabella stepped out of the hug. “Thank you, but I’m confused. Ms. Patricia is—was—my fairy godmother.”

A shadow of sadness slid over Ms. Birdie’s face. “When I learned of her death, I took over the cases that she still had open.”

“So my getting a job here, my meeting your godson, was all orchestrated by you?” That made sense, in a Fairy Godmother Project way.

Ms. Birdie nodded. “I am the new owner of the magazine.”

Isabella gasped. “Whoa!” Had this woman really bought a magazine just to make sure the good parts of The Devil Wears Prada section of Isabella’s contract were realized?

“It’s important that you know, I did not orchestrate Amanda hiring you.” Ms. Birdie reached out and palmed Isabella’s cheek. “That was pure serendipity at work. But I did purchase it with the intent of hiring you.”

“Were you the one who invited me to the party at the hotel?”

“Yes.” Ms. Birdie dropped her hand and took a step back.

That was one mystery in Isabella’s life solved. “But you weren’t at the ball.”

“I was there, but I was careful not to run into you that evening.” Her eyes twinkled with glee, as if staying anonymous had given her great joy.

What else had she orchestrated that evening? “I see. Did you take one of my shoes out of my purse so that I’d have to come back and look for it?” Isabella had taken her lucky heels off that night to dance. She always carried a pair of ballet flats with her when partying.

“I did not. But when I learned of it, I orchestrated events in the hopes you and Chandler would bump into each other and have a moment of recognition.”

Isabella glanced at Chandler, who was pulling at the neck of his sweater.

“Don’t look at me,” he grumbled. “I can’t help that Nonna is a hopeless romantic comedy buff. Of course she tried to coordinate the perfect movie meet-cute between us.”

If this woman had hopes of matchmaking the two of them, Isabella wanted to let her down easy. She walked over to the couch and sat. “It would have been perfect had it worked and had there been sparks,” Isabella said to Ms. Birdie. “But there weren’t.”

Chandler took a seat across from her in one of the comfy chairs. “I’m glad you agree we are not romantically drawn to one another. It’s best for Nonna to hear it from both our lips.”

Was he being truthful? Or, like her, was he lying? Why would he lie?

Ms. Birdie made a small noise of distress before taking a seat next to Isabella. “Darling, your new position at Naked Runway is that of digital editor.”

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