Yes, at seven-thirty. Your name—”
The door to her office opened and her assistant called out, advising her that the executive editor, her boss, wanted to see her, pronto.
“Hello…” Dawson said impatiently. “I haven’t got all day, lady. The other line is ringing.”
“Britt Astor,” Brittany replied, adding her address on Park Avenue, while Sandy waved to her frantically.
By the time Brittany fixed the scheduling snafu for her boss and nabbed a seat on the subway, she was too exhausted to worry about the upcoming interview. She was too tired to malinger over the fact that she’d given her name and address to a complete stranger— and a cranky one, at that. Oh