Relay: (Really)

One p.m. Thursday, the quietest hour of the quietest day of the Star week. The phone rings maybe once an hour on Thursdays.

The phone rings. It's The New York Post's Page Six. "We're calling about a story on your front page today . . ."

Don't tell me, let me guess. There's Job Potter and Lisa Grenci running for Town Board, there's the Amagansett School Board election, there's Martha Stewart and the landscaper . . .

"Yes, what about it?"

"Could you tell us more? Did you have trouble getting the police to talk to you?"

"Trouble?"

(Plaintively): "They didn't want to talk to us."

"Oh. Well, we talk to them every day, maybe that's why. How did you happen to see the story so fast?"

"We got a fax. It'll be in the column tomorrow. Hey, we'll credit you."

"Gee. Thanks."

I expected my first day as an intern at The Star to be pretty low-key. I planned to work on my first story, write up a few short pieces, and maybe learn the word-processing software we use here.

When I arrived at 9 a.m. Friday, the office was quiet. The phone rang at 9:02, and I decided to field my first phone call as a Star reporter.

In my most professional voice I answered the phone with a brisk "Star!" only to be greeted by a woman calling from "Extra," the NBC-TV sex-and-celebrities tabloid news show, asking for information on our Martha Stewart story and a faxed copy of the article.

How did a woman who makes planters out of old baskets get to be so important?

"Hi, it's Cindy from 'Extra NBC.' We want to do a story on your Martha story."

"What?" I said. "On what?"

"On the story - and to air it tonight. Are you the reporter?"

"No, I'm sorry, the reporter is out today."

"Oh," Cindy said, is there "no way you can find her?"

She's at that bridal place in Brooklyn, someone in the newsroom said, remembering that Michelle Napoli had taken the day off to accompany her friend the bride-to-be to Kleinfeld's for a fitting.

"I got my bridal gown at Kleinfeld's!" offered Cindy - "NBC will go wherever Michelle is to talk with her. Can you reach her?"

Hmmmm.

"We care about your call," said Kleinfelds's voicemail . . . for almost 40 minutes. Through the miracle of fiberoptics, or whatever, I also tried the bridesmaids' department, the bridal appointments department, and finally alterations, where kind Elda promised that when the young women arrived - according to her schedule, by noon - she would relay the message.

"Hi, it's Michelle," said the voice on the phone about 20 minutes later. "What's the emergency?"

Call Cindy, I said. She got her wedding dress at Kleinfeld's, too.

Just as I pulled onto the L.I.E. in Woodbury, my pager beeped. 324-0002, it said. Probably just trying to let me know a friend was looking for me at the office. He'd found me at his sister's house, though. So it can wait till Brooklyn.

But when we arrived at Kleinfeld's, an anxious Elda passed a message: It was important I call Susan in East Hampton. Very urgent. Then I thought something was gravely wrong.

Turns out, though, it was about Martha. Martha, Martha, Martha. I was the (lucky?) reporter to have covered the story of her confrontation and possible arrest.

Reluctance to be on TV aside, I wasn't going to be back into East Hampton until 9 or 10 that night. That's okay, they'll send a crew to wherever you are, Susan informed me. Really? Really. Does Helen mind? No, go right ahead, she said.

Elda had climbed two flights of stairs to make sure everything was okay with me. Meanwhile, the bride-to-be already had her dress on, and I, the maid of honor, was missing it.

I called Cindy. Was it me who was getting married, she asked? No.

"Well, I'm here, so if you want to send a crew to me, I'll do the interview," I told her.

"Great. They'll be there between 1 and 1:15. His name is Guy."

Guy, a soundman, and a cameraman showed up about on time, and together we found a spot to film that wouldn't look too obviously like a Brooklyn sidewalk.

"Won't this seem funny, interviewing me here?" I asked.

Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Maybe over here, where the rose bush is. Martha gives good tips on growing roses.

A passer-by wondered if I had won the Publisher's Clearing House sweep stakes. If only I were so lucky, I told him.

Instead, I got my two seconds of fame, enough time to say that yes, Martha Stewart and her neighbor, Harry Macklowe, had had tense relations for some time. If you blinked while watching "Extra" Friday night, you missed me.

Michelle Napoli, who wrote the Martha story, and Susan Rosenbaum, who found her at Kleinfeld's for "Extra," are Star reporters. Jonathan Steinberg is the intern whose first working day was more eventful than he'd expected. Irene Silverman, who edited Ms. Napoli's piece and talked to Page Six, is The Star's associate editor.