Lessons Learned

have it, they’d entered straight into the lingerie department. “I find your American malls fascinating.”
    “I’m sure.” Her voice was dry as he fingered the border of lace on a slinky camisole. “You can come upstairs with me first, if you like.”
    “No, no.” A saleswoman with a face that demanded a second look adjusted two negligees and beamed at him. “I think I’ll just roam around and see what your shops have to offer.” He beamed back. “So far, I’m charmed.”
    She watched the exchange and tried not to clench her teeth. “All right, then, if you’ll just be sure to—”
    “Be in Special Events on the third floor at eleven-forty-five,” he finished. In his friendly, casual way, he kissed her forehead. She wondered why he could touch her like a cousin and make her think of a lover. “Believe me, Juliet, nothing you say to me is forgotten.” He took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. That was definitely not the touch of a cousin. “I’ll buy you a present.”
    “It isn’t necessary.”
    “A pleasure. Things that are necessary are rarely a pleasure.”
    Juliet disengaged her hand while trying not to dwell on the pleasure he could offer. “Please, don’t be later than eleven-forty-five, Carlo.”
    “Timing, mi amore, is something I excel in.”
    I’ll bet, she thought as she started toward the escalator. She’d have bet a week’s pay he was already flirting with the lingerie clerk.
    It only took ten minutes in Special Events for Juliet to forget Carlo’s penchant for romancing anything feminine.
    The little assistant with the squeaky voice was still in charge as her boss continued his battle with the flu. She was young, cheerleader pretty and just as pert. She was also in completely over her head.
    “Elise,” Juliet began because it was still early on enough for her to have some optimism. “Mr. Franconi’s going to need a working area in the kitchen department. Is everything set?”
    “Oh, yes.” Elise gave Juliet a toothy, amiable grin. “I’m getting a nice folding table from Sporting Goods.”
    Diplomacy, Juliet reminded herself, was one of the primary rules of PR . “I’m afraid we’ll need something a bit sturdier.Perhaps one of the islands where Mr. Franconi could prepare the dish and still face the audience. Your supervisor and I had discussed it.”
    “Oh, is that what he meant?” Elise looked blank for a moment, then brightened. Juliet began to think dark thoughts about mellow California. “Well, why not?”
    “Why not,” Juliet agreed. “We’ve kept the dish Mr. Franconi is to prepare as simple as possible. You do have all the ingredients listed?”
    “Oh, yes. It sounds just delicious. I’m a vegetarian, you know.”
    Of course she was, Juliet thought. Yogurt was probably the high point of her day. “Elise, I’m sorry if it seems I’m rushing you along, but I really need to work out the setup as soon as possible.”
    “Oh, sure.” All cooperation, Elise flashed her straight-toothed smile. “What do you want to know?”
    Juliet offered up a prayer. “How sick is Mr. Francis?” she asked, thinking of the levelheaded, businesslike man she had dealt with before.
    “Just miserable.” Elise swung back her straight California-blond hair. “He’ll be out the rest of the week.”
    No help there. Accepting the inevitable, Juliet gave Elise her straight, no-nonsense look. “All right, what have you got so far?”
    “Well, we’ve taken a new blender and some really lovely bowls from Housewares.”
    Juliet nearly relaxed. “That’s fine. And the range?”
    Elise smiled. “Range?”
    “The range Mr. Franconi needs to cook the spaghetti for this dish. It’s on the list.”
    “Oh. We’d need elecricity for that, wouldn’t we?”
    “Yes.” Juliet folded her hands to keep them from clenching. “We would. For the blender, too.”
    “I guess I’d better check with maintenance.”
    “I guess you’d better.” Diplomacy, tact, Juliet reminded herself as her fingers itched for Elise’s neck. “Maybe I’ll just go over to the kitchen layouts and see which one would suit Mr. Franconi best.”
    “Terrific. He might want to do his interview right there.”
    Juliet had taken two steps before she stopped and turned back. “Interview?”
    “With the food editor of the Sun. She’ll be here at eleven-thirty.”
    Calm, controlled, Juliet pulled out her itinerary of the San Diego stop. She skimmed it, though she knew every word by