Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know (221 page)

Emily's eyes were glowing with excitement; her hands shook. ‘I can't believe that just happened,' she shrieked. ‘I mean, I'd
hoped.
Miles was convinced, but I certainly wasn't. They want to buy us! Miranda Priestly is
impressed
with our magazine. Elias-Clark wants to acquire it. Can you even comprehend this?'

Andy nodded. ‘Do you believe she didn't even recognize us? Here we were, so worried about what she was going to say, and she had zero idea that either one of us used to'

‘Andy! Miranda fucking Priestly wants to buy our magazine!
Our
magazine! Buy it! Is this even registering for you?'

Andy noticed her own hands were shaking as she sipped her tea. ‘Oh, it's registering. It's the most insane thing I've ever heard. Flattering, of course, but mostly just insane.'

Emily's mouth dropped open in the most unattractive way. She sat staring at Andy, lower jaw near the table, for what felt like an eternity before slowly shaking her head. ‘My god, it never even occurred to me …'

‘What didn't?'

‘But of course, it makes perfect sense.'

‘What does?'

Emily's mouth turned down and her forehead crinkled in … what? Disappointment? Despair? Anger?

‘Emily?'

‘You don't want to sell to Elias-Clark, do you? You have reservations.'

Andy could feel her throat tighten. This was not going well. There was that part of her that felt a swell of pride. They were successful enough to have caught the attention of the world's preeminent publisher. Elias-Clark wanted to add them to its portfolio. Could there be a greater endorsement of their product? But. Elias-Clark was synonymous with Miranda Priestly. Could Emily possibly
want
to sell
The Plunge
to Elias-Clark? With barely a word spoken, the vibe between them had instantly changed.

‘
Reservations?
' Andy coughed. ‘Yes, I guess you could say that.'

‘Andy, don't you realize that this is what we've been working toward since the moment we started? Selling the magazine? And that we now have an offer
years
before we ever thought possible, a great offer from literally
the
most prestigious magazine publisher on the planet? What can you possibly not like about that?'

‘I like everything about it,' Andy said, speaking slowly.
Measured
.

Emily broke into a wide smile.

‘I'm every bit as flattered as you are, Em. The fact that Elias-Clark wants to buy our little magazine is totally mind-blowing. It's incredible on every level. And did you see that purchase price?' Andy smacked her own forehead. ‘I never thought I'd see a payday like that in my entire life.'

‘So why do you look like your dog just died?' Emily asked. She pressed ‘ignore' on her phone when Miles's picture popped up.

‘You know why. You saw it, too.'

Emily feigned confusion. ‘I didn't get a chance to examine every single word, but for the most part, it'

Andy pulled out her packet and turned to page 7. ‘Remember this little clause, right here? The one that states the entire senior editorial team must stay in place for at least one calendar year to help with the transition?'

Emily waved. ‘It's just a year.'

‘
Just a year?
Gee, I can't remember where I heard that before.'

‘Oh please, Andy. You can do anything for a year.'

Andy stared at her friend. ‘That is factually untrue, actually. The one thing I cannot do for a year is work for Miranda Priestly. I think I've already proven that.'

Emily stared at her. ‘This isn't just about you. We're partners here, and this is a dream come true.'

The offer itself was gratifying, no doubt, but how could she possibly agree to sell their baby to Elias-Clark of all places, not to mention agree to work there again for another year? It was inconceivable, and they hadn't even gotten to enjoy any of the celebratory gossip or rehash what they'd just witnessed – Miranda Redux, her office, her shell-shocked assistants, the whole deal.

Andy rubbed her eyes. ‘Maybe we're both overreacting. Why don't we contact a publishing lawyer and ask him to negotiate on our behalf? Maybe we can get rid of that year-long-transition clause? Or maybe someone else will want to acquire us, now that an offer's been made? If Elias-Clark is so keen on it, chances are others will be, too.'

Emily just shook her head. ‘It's Elias-Clark. It's Miranda Priestly, for god's sake. It's like they're anointing us.'

‘I'm trying here, Em.'

‘Trying? I can't believe you're not
jumping
at this opportunity.'

Andy was quiet. ‘What's our rush?' she asked. ‘This is the first offer, and it's years earlier than we expected. Why race into it? Let's take our time, think it through, and make the best decision for both of us.'

‘Seriously, Andy? We would be certifiably insane not to accept this offer. I know it, and you know it.'

‘I love
The Plunge,
' Andy said quietly. ‘I love what we've built together. I love our offices and our staff and getting to hang out with
you
every day. I love that no one tells us what to do or how to do it. I'm not sure I want to give all that up just yet.'

‘I know you love it. I do too. But this is an opportunity a million people would kill for. Certainly anyone and everyone who's ever grown a business from scratch. You need to see the big picture, Andy.'

Andy stood up and gathered her things. She reached out and squeezed Emily's arm. ‘We just found out five seconds ago. Let's give ourselves a little time to think it through, okay? We'll figure something out.'

Emily's hand reflexively hit the table in frustration. Not hard, but enough to stop Andy in her tracks. ‘I sure hope so, Andy. I'm willing to talk about this more, but I'm telling you now, we cannot squander this opportunity. I won't let us stand in the way of our own success.'

Andy slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘You mean me. You won't let
me
stand in the way of
your
success.'

‘That's not what I said,' Emily said.

‘But that's definitely what you meant.'

Emily shrugged. ‘You may hate them, but they are the very best and they are offering to make us rich in our own right. Can't you take the long view for once?'

‘What, you mean like the worshipful view you've always taken of Elias-Clark? And let's be honest, of Miranda too?'

Emily glared at her. Andy knew she should end it there, but she couldn't help herself.

‘What? I'd be willing to bet anything that you still blame yourself for getting fired. That even though you were the best goddamn assistant she ever had, you still think Miranda was in some way justified for throwing you out like last week's garbage.'

Anger flashed across Emily's face, and Andy knew she'd gone too far. But all Emily said was, ‘Let's not do this now, okay?'

‘Fine. I'm headed to run some errands over lunch. I'll see you back at the office,' Andy said, and walked out without another word. It was going to be a very long day.

Andy rested her head against the taxi seat and inhaled the not-unpleasant vanilla scent of the dangling air freshener. It was the first time in weeks she could remember smelling something and not wanting to vomit. She was breathing deeply when her phone rang.

‘Hi,' she said to Max, and hoped he wouldn't bring up the meeting. She was looking forward to telling their families about the baby that night, and she didn't want to keep thinking about Miranda.

‘Where have you been? I must have left a thousand messages with Agatha. How did the meeting go?' His tone was
urgent
.

‘Me? Oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking. You must have been worried!' Andy said. She had kept Max up most of the night, thrashing with anxiety over the meeting.

‘Seriously, Andy, how'd it go? They want to buy you, don't they?'

This made her sit straight up. ‘Yes, they do. How did you know that?'

‘What else could they have wanted?' he crowed, sounding triumphant. ‘I knew it, I just
knew
it! Miles and I have a bet about how much. You both must be so excited.'

‘I'm not sure
excited
is the word I'd use. Maybe
terrified
is a little closer.'

‘You should be proud as hell, Andy! You did it. You and Emily, against all odds, built this thing from scratch, and now the most prestigious magazine publisher on earth wants to buy it from you. It doesn't get any better than that.'

‘It is an honor,' Andy said. ‘But there are definitely some worrisome details.'

‘Nothing you can't work out, I'm sure. I can recommend a great lawyer, someone from an entertainment firm we use. They can iron out any issues.'

Andy kneaded her hands. Max was making it sound like a done deal when they'd only just gotten the offer that morning.

‘So when's everyone getting there?' she asked, trying to change the subject. ‘And do you think they suspect anything?'

‘I told you, I've got it all under control. There's a husband-and-wife chef team here now, and they're whipping up a feast. Everyone's getting here in an hour. They're all going to flip when we tell them about the baby, and now we have this incredible news to share, too.'

‘No, I don't want to mention anything about'

‘Andy? Can you hear me? Look, I've got to make a few calls. I'll see you soon, okay?'

She heard the phone click and once again allowed her head to rest against the seat. Of course, her husband was an investor, a substantial one. It was perfectly understandable he'd be thrilled; it made him look like a genius, not to mention help line the
Harrison
coffers. But she wasn't yet ready to share the news. The baby was one thing – that was exactly the kind of news you shared with future grandparents, even the Barbara Harrisons of the world – but an entire evening spent discussing Miranda Priestly? No thank you.

Despite her initial reservations, by ten
P.M.
Andy had to admit that the evening had been a success. Everyone was still going strong. Unsurprising for her family, who interpreted ‘time to leave' as ‘time to begin saying good-bye, hugging, rehugging, asking last-minute questions, visiting the bathroom, offering once again to clean up, and kissing each and every person in the room,' but this was very unusual for Barbara, who was always fashionably but never rudely late, a tidy and considerate guest, and quick to thank her host and leave. With the exception of Eliza, who had left an hour earlier to meet friends, each and every one of their immediate family members was still planted in the living room, chatting animatedly, drinking voraciously, and laughing like teenagers.

‘I'm so delighted for you both,' Mrs Harrison said in a way that indicated nothing about her true feelings. But maybe she meant it? Maybe a baby – the promise of a new Harrison – was enough to win Andy some respect and acceptance? They sat side by side on the backless chaise. ‘A grandchild, my, my. Naturally I'd always hoped, but so soon! Quite the surprise.'

Andy tried to ignore the ‘so soon' part. Max had insisted they leave out the details about the baby being unplanned – he didn't want everyone thinking it was some sort of mistake – but Andy was sure his mother was no more thrilled with the idea that she and Max had deliberately conceived this child two months before getting married. Wouldn't that be just like her low-class daughter-in-law?

‘Of course you'll name him after Robert if it's a boy,' Mrs Harrison said, clearly intending it to be a statement and not a question. Even more infuriating, Barbara directed her stipulation to Max, as though he were the sole name decider.

‘Of course,' Max said without so much as glancing in Andy's direction.

She had no doubt they'd name a baby boy after Max's father, and probably even a little girl – Andy wouldn't want it any other way – but still she bristled at the presumption.

Jill caught Andy's eye and coughed. Loudly.

‘You never know, I have a feeling these two will have a girl. A tiny, perfect, sweet little girl. All sugar and spice and everything my three boys aren't. At least, that's what I'm hoping.'

‘A girl would be lovely,' Mrs Harrison said in agreement. ‘But we'll want a boy at some point to carry on the family business.'

Andy refrained from pointing out that she, a female, was perfectly capable of running a business and any daughter of hers would be the same. Nor would she mention that Max's father, a male, hadn't exactly shown a whole lot of business acumen when making decisions on behalf of Harrison Media Holdings.

Max caught her eye and sent her a silent thank-you.

Andy's grandmother piped up from the couch opposite Andy. ‘That child won't be born for another six months. I could easily be dead by then, in which case I'll insist they name the child for me. Ida's due to come back again, isn't it? All the old-timer names are in favor again.'

‘Grams, you're only eighty-eight and you're strong as an ox. You're not going anywhere,' Andy said.

‘From your lips to god's ears,' her grandmother replied, then spit three times in quick succession.

‘Enough with the naming,' Jill said, clapping her hands together. ‘Does anyone want some more decaf? If not, I think we should get going and let the parents-to-be get some rest.'

Andy shot her sister a grateful smile. ‘Yep, I'm pretty tired, so …'

‘No one in our family has lived past eighty,' Grams called to Andy. ‘You're crazy if you don't think I'll be dead any day now.'

‘Mom, stop that. You're perfectly healthy. Come on, let's get our stuff together.'