Georgina Wagman’s life was so good she felt bad about it. Not so bad she’d change anything but bad enough she’d made it her mission to help others reach their potential in love, career, and epicurean delights. So it was with the best of intentions that she ordered four boxes of the richest, crispiest cannoli in New York City for the junior associates working late on Friday night and hand-delivered them office to office. How could she have known they’d give everyone food poisoning—the Italian bakery was A-rated by the health department!—or that the thirtieth-floor restrooms were closed for cleaning? Building management should have waited until after hours for that. Everyone knows lawyers work through dinner.

Sweaty and groaning, the associates had scattered thirty minutes later—some to the privacy of their apartments, others to the stairwell in search of a restroom on a different floor—except one first-year associate named Meredith De Luca. When Georgina had stopped by Meredith’s office with the box of cannoli on display, she’d politely declined.

“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth,” she’d said.

“Only bad cannoli are too sweet,” Georgina had insisted.