also has additional Sagittarius influences in her natal chart. A Jupiter girl plus, you might say.She's warm and generous, typical of the sign, and she has lots of loyal friends who love her,also typical of the sign. They would have to be loyal, and they would have to love her tosurvive incidents like the time three years ago when she opened up her big heart and decidedto completely outfit her secretary for the winter. The young girl was flat broke, since she had just been through a drizzly financial disaster, and she was touched to tears. Others hadsympathized, but until Kay, no one had offered a concrete helping hand. Leave it toSagittarius. (You can read that several ways.)One fine fall day, the two of them set forth for Saks Fifth Avenue in a fever of excited femaleanticipation. The poor secretary was delirious with happiness-until they entered the elevator.Suddenly, the Sagittarian gave her a long, appraising look, and said quite firmly and quiteloudly, "We'd better try the Fat Girl's Department first."Blind ecstasy was instantly replaced by numb shock. The secretary's fiance had always toldher she was "pleasingly plump." Now, in one flashing painful moment of Sagittarian honesty,she had become a baby blimp. To this very day, the young girl remembers how everyone inthe car turned to stare at her curiously, as she wondered if her fiance secretly thought she wasgrotesque. But good old Kay fixed it. Noticing the girl's discomfiture, she hastily made a joketo jolly her up. "And if we can't find anything to fit you there, we can always try the tents inthe camping department." The Sagittarian howled at her own hilarity. So did the people in theelevator.Just after Kay's warm, generous excursion with her secretary, she cheered up her boss, the publisher, who had been on doctor's orders not to drink for a year. One solid year. He had hadinfectious hepatitis. No liquor. Not one drop. After going for twelve long months withouteven wetting his lips, he was justifiably proud of his will power. Kay, just freshly back fromEurope, paid him a typical Sagittarian compliment. "About your drinking," she began, and hesmiled, waiting. "I hear you've been trying to stay on the wagon."
After twelvemonths without a single drop?
As he recovered his composure, she went on. "Say,you know there's a party tomorrow night for Joe's book? I thought I ought to warn you, but Inever get to see you alone." Warn him? Warn him about what? The publisher forgot hischagrin under this new threat. She continued: "We were all hoping that, well, this isembarrassing-but we were all hoping that you wouldn't spoil the party." By now, the publisher was speechless. Not Sagittarius."What I mean is, we hope you don't mess up the evening by being a wet blanket about notdrinking-and all that. Joe likes his martinis, and after all, his book is a Literary Guildselection. If you slink around like some fugitive from prohibition and make everybodymiserable, just because you have this terrible disease, it will throw a damper on the wholething. Say, can people catch it from being in the same room with you?"The publisher somehow managed to stammer that she was safe, then gathered his injureddignity together long enough to remind her that he had hosted parties himself for authors likeEdna Ferber and Ernest Hemingway without mishap. "I have always been told," he saidevenly, between clenched teeth, "that my manners are impeccable." The Sagittarian, blind toher boss's near apoplexy, heartily agreed with him. "That's for sure. You're a fabulous host. No one in the publishing business can figure it out." The publisher had just barely enough