Page 55 of VOGUEish

January 22nd —11:49p.m.

Blog of an anonymous chick—living in a borough in the City—shaping her life one bad decision at a time.

I have a date on the horizon, and it’s not with Pillar. Long story that ends with the timing is all wrong with us.

I’m not crying, though. The date is with a great guy. If what I’ve been told can be believed, he might be perfect for me, and I don’t use that term lightly. Rumor has it he’s a gentleman and is at that point in his life where he’s ready to get married.

Our first date is coming up. Yeah, I know, I already said that, but it bears repeating.

What do you all think I should wear? Be sure and give me your opinion.

Until next time,

Love, light, and laughter,

Anonymous in NYC

Isabella quickly reread the post and then pushed the publish button.

She put her computer away and crawled into bed. She was under no illusion that she’d be able to sleep tonight. She could now add Chloe won’t be there to her list of things to obsess over concerning her comeback moment.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next morning, Isabella stepped off the escalator and headed straight to the closet. Last night, Ziggy had dropped the wonderful tidbit of news that, thanks to a recent change in policy made by Ms. Birdie, NR’s editors were now allowed to borrow clothes from it without fear of reprimand

Isabella quickly set the goodies for this morning’s interview on a nearby table, tugged off her snow boots, and replaced them with a lovely pair of knee-high leather ones. They’d been featured in the October issue last year.

She checked herself in the full-length mirror and sighed with happiness. It was true. Valentino made the woman.

She hurriedly gathered everything and, with her hands full, walked carefully to Chandler’s old office. Luckily, the door was open, so she strode in. Much to her surprise, the room wasn’t empty. Chandler and Ms. Birdie had arrived before her.

Isabella grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I should have knocked before barging in.” She set the coffee and sweets on the coffee table. “I can leave.” She cast an apologetic look at them both.

“Actually, it’s good you’re early.” Chandler stood. He wore a gray suit that really made the most of his athletic build. “Nonna—”

Ms. Birdie held up a hand, stopping Chandler’s words. She stood and gave Isabella a bland smile. She wore a black power suit, white silk blouse, classic Louboutin stilettos, and diamonds.

“Do you, or do you not, have designs on my godson?” Her tone was neither frosty nor warm. “I have discovered you spent the night together.”

“Excuse me?” Isabella managed to squeak.

“I read your blog.”

How had she not thought of that! Isabella gulped. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. “No designs. We just…well, we just.”

Ms. Birdie raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I see. And do you plan on telling Ryder?”

“Nonna, that’s enough!” Chandler boomed.

Isabella glanced heavenward. Oh, dear God, take me now. I’m ready to be an angel on your payroll. Just get me out of here. I promise I won’t listen to Jackass anymore.

The sky didn’t open and suck her up.

Not my time to go. She squared her shoulders. “I apologize if I’ve offended your sensibilities.”

Ms. Birdie stared at Isabella for several torturous seconds.

Isabella stood perfectly still, refusing to fidget. If you can’t stand the heat, don’t play with the devil’s lighter. That had been one of Ms. Patricia’s favorite sayings.

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