Yes, Sydney is on the short list of two for where I will base myself. Style Sydney needs a much firmer hand, but Style New York is where my global offices are. We can discuss it when you’re home.
Perry is all too smug about my career pivot, by the way. I have reminded him I still know how to fire even international art directors, and it would be no trouble at all. He took the hint.
I believe he wants to find you a dress for the next ball. He has met a new designer with something that would be perfect for you. Will you be back in time for a fitting? How tightly is your editor holding you to that three-month schedule?
Stay safe. E.
P.S. Happy birthday.
* * *
Dear Elena,
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got your present. It’s beautiful, thank you. I’m paranoid about losing it out here or it being stolen, so I’ve taken to tucking it into my panties during the day. I’d like to return the favour. Oh, that came out wrong! Or right. Um, so when’s your birthday?
Tell Perry no, I don’t think I’ll be back in time for a fitting. That’s fine, I’m fairly sure I have something at home that should do. Why doesn’t he dress you in his new designer’s threads so we’ll get to be amazed anyway?
And yes, that was a little orphan girl hugging a drawing of her dead mother. I’ve submitted it to a photo agency, with my editor’s blessing. It will be sold and run as a standalone news story. Obviously, it doesn’t fit Condé Nast’s travel brief.
I really miss you.
Maddie.
* * *
Dear Foolish Girl,
I’m glad you liked my birthday gift. I shall let Tiffany & Co. know their Blue Divine bracelet is safely carried in the underthings of Condé Nast Traveller’s roaming Vietnam reporter. I’m sure they’ll want to put that endorsement in all their advertising.
I saw L’Express picked up your orphan girl story, and your photo has gone viral since they put it on their website. It deserves to. People need to see this. How is it you keep surprising me?
My birthday is a state secret. But let’s just say you identified the day once, why not twice?
Stay safe. E.
* * *
Dear Elena,
Your birthday is the Ides of March? Wait a minute—that means you planned to celebrate your birthday last year by firing an entire newspaper’s staff? Were you trying to live up to your reputation? Is this how a tiger shark parties?
I will not be able to write after this, as I’m heading out of internet range again.
Thanks for sending me the links to my photo online. You won’t be too shocked to hear I’m setting up a crowd-funding campaign to get the little girl looked after and make sure she gets a good education. She has a foster family now too.
See you in Sydney soon. One week, one day in fact.
Thinking of you every day.
Maddie.
CHAPTER 33
Felicitations
Maddie crawled off the plane at Sydney Airport, looking like a rumpled blanket. Her backpack felt far too heavy. She turned to find the taxi ramp.
“Don’t bother. I have transport,” said a familiar voice beside her ear.
Maddie swung her head around. “Felicity?” It was nice to see a familiar face after being away, even one who only sometimes tolerated her.
“This way.”
“Did Elena send you? I told her—repeatedly—not to send someone for me.”
Felicity gave her an impatient look. “No, she did not send me. Now come on.”
Oh. Well, so much for small talk.
Within minutes, they were in a high-end Uber, headed towards Sydney’s CBD. All conversation had been forestalled by Felicity choosing to sit in the front seat.
Maddie shrugged and stretched out as much as she could, hoping for a brief bit of shut-eye after being cooped up in the air for the past half a day. She couldn’t wait to see Elena again. After all their emails and a few calls, Maddie was beside herself with anticipation. She’d missed her so much.
* * *
Half an hour later, Maddie’s eyes fluttered back open, and she glanced around. They were in the inner city. She squinted at the blur of signs. Paddington? What the hell?
“Felicity, this isn’t the way to my apartment.”
