“Hey, Billy,” Alexa said, passing me, wearing another black cashmere top. Obviously she hadn’t heard the news of my firing yet, because she walked by quickly, not even bothering to gloat.

I didn’t say anything in return. I kept my focus on Roslyn’s office at the end of the hall. Then something distracted me.

I stopped and turned slightly to my left toward one of the VP offices-one of the better ones-which had been empty for a few months. I stepped closer and peered inside. Obviously someone had been promoted; the place was occupied now. Two broad windows faced Michigan Avenue, so it was warm and white with the morning sun. There was a pine credenza, left behind by the previous occupant, one with fleurs-de-lis and scrolls carved deep in its sides.

And atop the credenza sat the photo of my mom and sisters, right next to Odette’s cookbook.

I opened and closed my eyes a few times, still trying to focus on the credenza. Was this some kind of freak joke? I glanced at the desk and saw my Northwestern Wildcats cup filled with my pens. There was my orange notebook, the square leather box where I kept my CDs, the yellow mug I bought years ago at Old Town Art Fair.

Startled, I stepped back outside the office. And there, on the wall next to the door, was a gold nameplate that read Billy Rendall, Vice President.

“Oh, my…” I said, my breath coming fast. It had happened! That was why Roslyn wanted to see me-she’d finally given me the job!

“Billy.” It was Roslyn’s voice. I turned to see her head sticking out of her office. “Can I see you?”

“Absolutely!” I trotted down the hall, beaming at everyone I passed. This was the validation I’d been waiting for-the official proclamation of my worth. And how sweet of Roslyn to move all my things!

When I reached her office, she was seated and signing letters, her assistant standing near her desk. I beamed some more, ready to hear rounds of congratulations. But Roslyn barely looked up.

“Billy,” she said, sounding distracted. “Are you free for lunch with Lydia?”

“ Lydia Frankwell?” I had never been invited to break bread with the firm’s owner.

“Of course.”

“Any special occasion?” Aha, I thought, they were going to officially announce my vice presidency at lunch. Again, such a thoughtful gesture!

“No, no. We just need to go over a few things, mostly the budget for the Teaken Furniture account. We’ll have salads brought to the conference room.”

“Oh…okay.” Should I raise the fact that I’d seemingly been promoted overnight?

Roslyn’s assistant gave me a benign, fleeting smile that seemed to say, Morning. Nothing new here.

“ Lydia is flying in from Manhattan, so we’ll do a late lunch,” Roslyn said. “I’ll see you at 1:30, all right? I’ve got to get these letters out. You know how it is.”

“Sure, okay.”

My walk down the hallway was slower this time. I expected someone to jump out of the shadows at any minute and yell, “Surprise! Congrats!” but everyone was going about their work as if this were any other day. As if I had always been a vice president.

The leather chair behind my new desk was the color of red wine. I sank into it, but it was too low, too cushy. I spent ten minutes trying to adjust the damn thing, but even when I’d raised it, I felt like a little kid in a big La-Z-Boy. It was too deep, my feet barely touched the floor. I found a Chicago Yellow Pages, the shape and weight of an anvil, and put that under my feet. I took my camel sweater off the hook behind the door and balled it up behind my back. Now what?

I turned on my computer. Everything looked the same there. I clicked on my e-mail account, scanning a note from an old college friend who was coming to town. There was also an e-mail from Odette suggesting new ideas for how to promote her book. I made notes on a pad of paper, reading Odette’s e-mail slowly. The last line said, If you don’t have time to call, don’t worry, just have your assistant, Lizbeth, give me a buzz.

I put my pen down and sat back in my big chair. Who the hell was Lizbeth?

I looked at the phone-a sleek black model with typed speed-dial names. One of them said “Lizbeth.” I stared at that a second, then slowly lifted my index finger and brought it down on the button.

“Hiya, Billy!” A chipper voice shot through my phone. “What do you need?”

“Uh…” I considered my possible responses. A lobotomy. A clue. “Lizbeth?” I said, the word alien on my tongue.

“Yeah?”

“You’re my assistant, right?”

A peal of girlish laughter. “Of course.”

I sat back in my chair.

“Billy?” I heard through the phone.

“Yes. Uh…Lizbeth, what day is it?”

“May 5th.”

That sounded right to me. “And it’s Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah. Is something wrong?”

What could be wrong? I’d had fabulous sex with my husband that morning, and I’d been promoted overnight. The only problem was I didn’t seem to know anything about that promotion. Then I got an idea. I knew who could help me.

“No, everything is fine,” I said. “Have you seen Evan today?”

Evan looked up from his desk, his green eyes sparkling, his dimples crinkling. “Hey there! I’m glad to see you.”

He came around the desk and hugged me tight.

“Whoa,” I said, pushing him back a little. Evan and I might hug when we saw each other out at night (me being the one holding him a tad too closely) but we never embraced at work. It wasn’t that kind of office.

“God, it’s weird, but I missed you,” he said.

“You missed me since yesterday?” Wasn’t it yesterday that I’d gone to the team meeting, that I’d been humiliated by Roslyn, that he’d mentioned the Hello Dave show?

“Yeah.” His hand, still on my arm, felt almost like a caress.

“I’ve got to ask you something.” I slipped away and closed the door.

“Sure.” He gestured to one of the chairs that faced his desk and went back to his own.

“What’s going on around here?” I said, taking a seat.

“You look sexy today,” he said.

“Do I?” I took a quick look at my brown pants, my ivory blouse. I’d worn the outfit to work no less than fifty times.

“You do.” His eyes dragged down my body, then back up again. “God, what is it about you today?”

“I don’t know.” Maybe it’s the fact that I just got steamed an hour ago? “Look, Ev, focus for me, okay? What in the hell is happening around here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do I have a VP office?”

He laughed. “Because you’re a VP, baby. Get used to it.”

“Why did it happen so quick?”

“What do you mean? You deserved it for a long time.”

“I know,” I said, irritated. “But why did they just move me in there overnight?”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been VP for a while.”

“A while? How long?”

He ran a hand through his blond hair-the kind of gesture that normally made me sigh with desire. “I can’t remember.” He scratched his head. “Huh. That’s strange. Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. Are you tense?”

“What?”

“You seem like you’re tense. Let me give you a neck rub.” In a flash, he was around his desk and behind me, his hands massaging my neck.

My eyes drifted shut for a moment, then snapped open. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you work out the kinks.” His voice was low, thick, the kind of voice I was sure he used with his girlfriends in bed.

“Okay, okay.” I stood up and spun around. “Is this a joke? Seriously, this is unbelievably cruel if it is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My VP office! And-” I pointed at him, unable to find the words “-you, acting like this.”

“Sorry.” A confused expression. “That was inappropriate, wasn’t it?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Geez, what is with me?” He shook his head. “Are you all right? Is it tension in your lower back? Here, let me work on that.” He moved forward, his muscled arm slipping around my hips.