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several occasions, went skiing five times a year, and had long blond hair which she seemed unable to do anything with other than toss it from side to side. She was also one of the sweetest people I'd ever met in my whole life. I mean, when she'd come in for the interview, I have to confess I'd mentally struck her off my list the moment she opened her mouth. But then she was so earnest, so impossibly desperate to please, that I couldn't help deciding she was perfect, even though she had absolutely no experience whatsoever.
    So I'd offered the job to Caroline and she'd immediately burst into tears. Which made me nearly burst into tears, too, because I remembered how grateful I'd been for the chance to work in advertising, and it made me feel really great knowing I was giving the same chance to someone else.
    “I'm, like, sooo happy,” Caroline had sobbed. “Because, like, everyone is finally going to take me seeeeriously. I've got, like, ajob. A proper job. And I'm going to make you so pleased you hired me. I'm going to work harder than anyone else in the whole wide world.”
    I mean how could you not like someone like that? Sure, I'd had to cover for her a few times, but that was just because I hadn't explained exactly what I wanted her to do—like the time I asked her to address some envelopes for a mass mailing and instead of printing out address labels she'd written them out by hand, all one thousand two hundred and fifty of them. But the funny thing was, that mailing was our most successful ever. Handwriting them had been a touch of genius, even if Caroline hadn't realized it.
    So there she was, a month later, looking at me with concern. “No, no bad news,” I reassured her. “Just thinking. You know.”
    Caroline nodded. Seconds later she pulled out a notebook and started furtively scribbling in it.
    “You're writing down that I'm thinking, aren't you?” I asked her, smiling. She'd brought that notebook in on her first day and wrote in it constantly. All part of her learning, she'd told me seriously—she didn't want to miss a thing.
    She looked up, slightly red. “Is that okay? It's just that I think I need to remind myself that thinking time is, like, really important.”
    “No, that's fine,” I said. “So, do you have everything ready for the Project Handbag meeting?”
    Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely. I took your presentation and like, totally designed it, with handbags and bows and stuff.” She handed me a printout and I cringed inwardly—it looked like it had been prepared for a five-year-old's birthday party. But I didn't want to dishearten her, so I managed a big smile.
    “And potential clients?” I asked. “You remember I wanted you to call some publicists and see if we could get some high-profilewomen to align themselves with the fund and to carry the handbag around with them?”
    She nodded sheepishly and my heart sank. Getting celebs on board was my big sell for this meeting. If we didn't have any names to drop, the presentation was going to fall flat on its face. “No success?” I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.
    “I …,” Caroline said, but she was interrupted by her phone ringing. Shooting me an apologetic look, she picked up. “Hi!” she said, her voice high-pitched. “Yeah, no, it was like totally wild … Jamie? Yeah, I think so!” She giggled, then caught my eye. “Look, got to go, actually … No, really … Shoe shopping? What now? No … No look, I'm like working, so … Yeah. Okay, bye.” She put her phone down and turned her doe eyes on me.
    “Oh God, look, Jess. I tried calling publicists but no one would talk to me and it was like, so awful and depressing.”
    She looked devastated. “Oh well, not to worry,” I said, as brightly as I could.
    “So I reaaaaally hope you don't mind but I called a couple of friends and they said they'd like looove to help. You know, if it's okay.”
    “Your friends,” I said uncertainly. “Well, that's really great, but