Departure & Arrival - Part 5
See prologue for disclaimer, summary etc.
Rating: PG (snooze, I know, but they are on a plane with a kid)
HOUR 4
This confession was as heartbreaking as it was warming. She had not been the only Priestly to suffer the loss of Andréa. Her girls had warmed to her in a way they had never warmed to another assistant. It was just another loss for them; their father, Stephen and Andréa. However, if Caroline and Cassidy already cared for Andréa it may not be so difficult to convince them to that having Andréa in their lives would be a good thing. Now all she had to do was convince Andréa of that very same fact. However, first Miranda had to continue her ever so subtle detective work. She found herself becoming quickly bored with this interrogation, Andréa was making her work for every piece of information she got, but she needed to know.
“So was the timing merely coincidence or were you here to enjoy Fashion Week?”
Andréa seemed to hesitate and Charlie took the moment of silence to answer for them. “Mommy took me to see the pretty dresses. This is the third time I’ve been allowed to come.” Her smile was so wide that Miranda could make out the obvious gap of a missing tooth that she hadn’t seen before. Miranda eyed Andréa. She was staring straight ahead, wringing her hands.
“That’s very impressive sweetheart. Do you have a favourite designer?”
‘Did Andréa just flinch?’
“Well Valentino was in….insp…” Frustrated, she faced her mother. “Mommy, what did you say about Valentino?”
Even through her nerves Andréa couldn’t help but smile affectionately at her daughter. “Inspired, Princess.”
“That’s right, inspired.” Charlie turned back to Miranda. “I didn’t like Mr Holts dresses, but I didn’t tell him. I don’t think you should make bows that big.”
The girl was as intelligent as her mother. That was obvious. It was also clear that she had a better eye for fashion than Andréa did, which was more than a little amusing.
“But my favourite was Charlotte.” Charlie concluded.
By this point Andréa’s knuckles were white from gripping onto both arm rests. She had, however, managed to school her features into something that resembled calm.
“You’ve done well to teach Charlie what little you remember from Runway Andréa, she clearly has an eye.” The grip tightened. “That was my favourite too sweetheart. It was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stale and disappointing week.”
Quite clearly against her own will, Andréa blurted out, “Really?”
“Andréa, when have you known me to skirt around the issue when talking about fashion? Forgive the pun.”
The girl was clearly flustered. Her gorgeous cheeks were now flushing deep crimson and she seemed to be struggling for breath. She was mumbling something unidentifiable, more to herself than those around her.
“However,” Miranda continued, “It matters very little how highly I praise this particular designer as they appear totally elusive.”
This had been her ultimate frustration of the previous year. Charlotte had become an international name in the fashion industry and the expansion of the company into shoes and hand-bags had been a success of massive proportions. Magazines all over the world were growing desperate to feature Charlotte but every enquiry into the company was stone walled. The designer remained extremely secretive and refused to come out into public domain. Therefore, the only place the designs could be seen in advance was on the runway. Miranda had hired a team of people, much to Irv’s displeasure, to find out anything and everything they could about the label. So far, their findings were minimal.
“Despite my best efforts I can’t even get a name. The most my team have unearthed is the initials A.E.S, and that was due to nothing more than a private investigator stumbling across some paper work.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for a spread in Runway.”
Andréa was gaping at her. What had she said that would warrant such a look? “You are that desperate to locate a designer?” She looked incredulous. “You hired a private detective?”
“Andréa, you are aware of the lengths I will go for the magazine. I ensure that Runway is the best by making certain that it only features the best. Surely then it makes sense that when I see great talent I should seek it out for the purposes of the magazine. Why would my desperation to locate a designer shock you of all people?”
Andréa’s jaw looked as though it had become permanently unhinged and, suddenly, Miranda felt like something weighty smacked her right between the eyes. Something so obvious she might dare to call herself unintelligent. No, not dare, she was an idiot.
‘The photo-shoot…. A phone call from Demarchelier… Demanding fabric samples… Prussian… She’s flying home from Paris Fashion Week with Charlie… Charlie… Charlie!’
She swallowed and looked over at Andréa as the colour drained from her face. Eyes never leaving the brunette she posed her question to the little girl, who was oblivious to this revelation.
“Charlie, what is your full name?”
“Charlotte Amelia Sachs.” The little girl recited proudly.
“And yours Andréa?”
Her former assistant looked extremely ill. She attempted a small smile and though clearly nervous, held Miranda’s stare. “Andrea Elizabeth Sachs.”
“A.E.S?”
The brunette nodded, reluctantly. Miranda let out a long breath and broke eye contact. Andréa was a designer, and a damn good one at that. Why had she left journalism for this? For something so firmly set in Miranda’s world, a world she had deserted and yet, she had breezed back in, under the radar. Before it had been unfair to expect Andréa to open up to her, to explain everything, but this was Miranda’s domain and she had been kept in the dark.
“Andréa,” she caught the amber eyes within her own once more. “I think you owe me an explanation.”