New fic: Keeping Christmas, PG-13, Miranda/Andy, Part III
Title: Keeping Christmas
Author: chilly_flame
Rating: PG-13 for the occasional curse
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything related to the Devil or Prada, alas. I don’t own “A Christmas Carol” either, which is even sadder.
Notes: Many thanks to politic_x for the firm nudge in the direction of this prompt, although it took about ten days longer to finish than I’d hoped. Also, huge thanks to Xander, who guided me through a journey that was far more challenging than I anticipated.
The Christmas Cracker ficathon prompt: Miranda/Andy - A Christmas Carol take off, girlie_girl_23. Hope it’s something you like!
Part III.
It’s the sound of glasses clinking that brings Miranda’s head up from the desk; the glow is what draws her up from her chair. She follows the strange-colored light until she finds herself in the kitchen, which looks nothing like it usually does. Instead of its usually pristine, white surfaces, the place has exploded with warmth. Another difference: there is food everywhere-delicious steaks, vegetables, fish, and whole turkeys surround a man who Miranda does not recognize. Strangest of all is the man himself; he is taller, broader, jollier than anyone Miranda has ever seen. He is laughing as she stares, until he waves an arm toward her. His green, velvet robe shimmers as if illuminated by a hundred candles, while his red hair and beard shine in the light.
“Come in, my girl, and know me better.” He laughs again, stuffing a turkey leg into his mouth, tearing into it with enthusiasm. He leans against the counter and points at Miranda with his turkey. “Come along! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. Of course you know that. You’ll know me better before the night is through!” He chuckles, amusing himself.
Miranda wants to make a harsh quip, but after seeing so much of her past, the sharpness has gone out of her. “What shall I see then? Should we go so I can get this over with?”
“Oh, my dear, you should not wish your life away. There is but a single today, and one should learn to enjoy each hour as it comes. I know this, for I live only for now, and now, and now.” He claps his hands, and tosses the decimated bone of turkey into the sink. “But we will go-there’s no time like the present, as they say. Hold onto my robe, and you will see.” He holds out a corner of his robe, and Miranda takes it.
A moment later, they are elsewhere, in a home Miranda doesn’t recognize. But she follows Patricia bounding through a hall toward the sound of voices, and she realizes it. They’re in New Canaan, at Jeremy’s home, where her girls are spending Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day. Miranda feels a pang in her chest; she is owed one of the two days with them, but they didn’t care to spend either with her. “All right. Where?”
The ghost drifts toward the voices, and Miranda trails after him. This family, including the twins, Jeremy, his “new” wife (of seven years) Angela, and Jeremy’s mother Joanna, is seated around an enormous dining table. In a highchair is the newest member of their brood, Anjelica, who is two. She is, despite Miranda’s foul mood, very cute, and surprisingly well behaved. As Jeremy slices into the turkey, Angela feeds her daughter baby food while the twins yank at a phone they appear to be trying to share.
“Girls, put the phone away, you can play with it after dinner,” Jeremy tells them, and Cassidy ignores him. Caroline slumps in her seat, and Cassidy takes full control of the device, typing quickly. “Cassidy, later.”
“Just a sec--”
“Now,” Jeremy says.
Cassidy glances up. “I am emailing Mom. I said just a sec.”
Miranda smirks as Caroline’s mouth drops open in disbelief-Cassidy is clearly lying, but Jeremy falls for it. Angela, on the other hand, is smiling, but she says nothing. She shares an encouraging look with Caroline, who sits up a little straighter-- Angela’s attention seems to soothe her annoyance. Cassidy types quickly then slides the phone into her back pocket. “Okay, done.”
“How is your mom?” Angela asks.
“We don’t need to talk about Miranda tonight,” Jeremy says, pausing in his carving.
“Why not? She’s the same as always. Except worse,” Cassidy barks. Miranda winces at Cassidy’s words. “She works till ten every night, and she’s never home on the weekends. If she is, she stays in her office.”
Caroline pokes Cassidy in her side, shushing her. “Shut it!” Caroline hisses.
“What? It’s not like it’s a big surprise. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she is annoying.” Cassidy looks pleased to have gotten the words out without being struck by lightning.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s just very busy at this time of year,” Angela says. Miranda is shocked that of everyone around the table, this woman is defending her. “She loves both of you very much.”
“How would you know?” Cassidy demands, and Miranda wants to tell her child she had better watch her tone, but Jeremy does it for her.
“Watch your tone, young lady.”
“Whatever. She’s in her own world. I don’t know what we did to make her so mad.”
“Oh god,” Miranda breathes, shutting her eyes against the words.
“Mad?” Jeremy asks. “You think she’s angry?”
Cassidy glances at Caroline, and they share some silent conversation, as they always have. This reminds Miranda of her own half-siblings-it’s a form of communication Miranda has always been excluded from. “We don’t know. She never smiles anymore, not even when she gets home. She doesn’t seem to care about anything but the magazine.” Caroline stops for a moment, and stares at her hands. “You know how I got straight As?”
Angela nods.
“Mom didn’t even notice. Not even when I stuck my report card on the refrigerator, right in front of her. She didn’t even say ‘good job,’ or ‘nice going,’ or anything.” There are tears in Caroline’s eyes.
Miranda is gutted. She had no idea. She doesn’t remember seeing either of her daughters’ report cards this term. Covering her mouth, she feels cold, and miserable, like the terrible mother she is.
Jeremy looks over at Angela, and their sympathy for Caroline is palpable. “We’re proud of you, honey,” Jeremy says. “And you, Cass. You did great this year, and I know it’s been tough.”
Why has it been tough on Cassidy? Miranda scours her memory-what could it be?
“It was okay,” Cassidy says. “I don’t have to have Mr. Lennon next term, and at least he gave me a B. Thanks, Dad, for helping me out with that.”
Miranda feels completely lost. Something happened with a teacher? Where has her mind been?
“He had a chip on his shoulder, kiddo. I didn’t do anything but make sure you got the grade you deserved. I saw your final project, and I was here when you made it. All I did was tell him, and his boss, that you did the whole project yourself. No harm, no foul.”
“Why didn’t she come to me?” Miranda exclaims, furious. “I could have handled that-why didn’t she?”
The ghost grins, clapping Miranda on the back. “She tried, if you’ll recall. You told her to ask Andy to deal with it. But she was humiliated. So she went to her father, who made a phone call. It took five minutes.”
Miranda exhales, and thinks back, but comes up empty. How long has she been ignoring her own children? Weeks? Months?
“I know,” Cassidy says. “Thanks, though. Mr. Lennon never liked me, anyway. I’m glad I’m done with his class.”
“Me too,” Angela agrees, and the baby waves her arms in unison.
“Me, me!” Anjelica cries, her little smile infectious. “Me, me, me!”
Everyone around the table laughs, and Jeremy serves up the meal, which looks incredibly good. Mashed potatoes, green beans, turkey, gravy, cranberries-everything Miranda ever wanted as a child at Christmas. The feeling in the room is one of family, and love. No one is left out or ignored in favor of another. Angela includes the twins beautifully in conversation, and her kindness flares the jealousy in Miranda’s heart. She is Miranda’s opposite in every way, but Miranda can’t find it in her to dislike her.
The night speeds by. No one argues, and Cassidy’s sharp tongue is eased as they all gather around the Christmas tree to watch, to Miranda’s utter shock, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Cassidy had always scoffed at the idea of watching such a silly movie, and Caroline went along with her. But there they are, a happy little family watching the movie together, while the baby sleeps peacefully on Jeremy’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to see anymore,” Miranda says. She swallows thickly. Never had her holidays with Jeremy been like this, not even at the beginning. “Let’s go.”
“Of course, my dear. Tempus fugit.”
The house vanishes, and after just a single blink of her eyes, Miranda is in a new place, one she’s never been in before. “Where are we?” she asks, looking around curiously. The room she stands in is small but tidy, and she is surrounded by books on three sides. There’s a sofa on the fourth wall, next to a door with what looks like half a dozen locks on it, including a bar that stretches across the whole thing. But it’s a friendly place, filled with just enough tchotchkes and candles and framed photos that it feels homey. Sweet, even. This all despite the tragic, overstuffed chair jammed in the corner, and a small, ancient television so dusty she doubts anyone’s turned it on for a year.
There’s a buzz from the phone next to the door, and she hears pounding footsteps: Andrea barrels toward Miranda, who barely moves out of the way in time to avoid her. She’s dressed in the same clothes she was wearing earlier that day, except now she wears an apron with a bowling ball on it next to the text, “The Dude Abides.” Miranda spares only a second to wonder what it means before Andrea picks up the call. “Hey!” she says. “Come on up… Oh, too bad, it’s only four flights.” She hangs up. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Miranda follows her into the kitchen, and is stunned at the sight: Andrea has somehow fit a table set for seven people into the kitchen, and food is everywhere. There’s an enormous pan of lasagna steaming on the stove top, plus vegetables, sliced bread, and what could only be called a vat of salad filled with cranberries, walnuts, tomatoes and who knows what else. Miranda inhales, marveling over the delicious scents floating through the tiny space.
A knock at the door brings Andrea out of the kitchen again, and moments later there is an eruption of noise when a crowd piles into the room. Nigel is one of them, followed by Emily and Serena. The fourth person is a handsome young man Miranda doesn’t recognize. All of them coo over the spread of food, including Emily.
“My god, I’ve gained five pounds just looking at it,” Emily declares, leaning over the main course with huge eyes.
“That is a good reason to gain five pounds, sweetheart,” Serena adds, sniffing the pasta as well. “Smells divine, Andy. Thanks so much for having us!”
“I know it’s later than we wanted, but you’re here now, and my friends from home are almost here too, so by the time everything’s plated they should--”
There is another buzz, and Andrea looks to Nigel. “Can you?”
He nods and leaves to greet the rest of the guests. Emily, Serena and the unknown gentleman take their seats, and shortly more people trample into the room carrying wine and armfuls of wrapped presents. “Hey, sweets,” a well-dressed young man says, kissing Andrea on the cheek. “So glad you made it out of the office tonight, otherwise we were going to be stuck with Chinese take-out,” he said. “How’d you manage to escape the Dragon?”
“Oh hush, don’t call her that,” Andrea scoffs.
“You must mean ‘raging bitch from hell,’ Doug,’” Emily interjects, and Miranda gasps.
“Emily!” Andrea yelps.
“Oh, stop, Andy, she’s been a total lunatic and you can’t deny it. I’ve worked for Miranda for five years and I’ve not seen her like this, even during our busiest times before Paris. She’s completely out of control, and--”
“-And let’s all thank god she’s not here, nor will she be making an appearance, so let’s keep the bitching to a minimum, Em,” Nigel quips, pulling off his scarf. He takes a seat next to the handsome gentleman Miranda doesn’t know, then surprises her by pecking him on the lips. “I’d rather talk about anything else in the universe, and anything other than Runway for the next 36 hours, so let’s respect my wishes, shall we?”
“Sorry, darling,” Nigel’s companion says, with a gentle French inflection. “We’ll talk about something else--”
“Miranda’s not crazy. She’s just having a hard time right now,” Andrea interjects, and Miranda feels a frisson of pleasure at her defense.
“Like we’d believe a single word out of your mouth when it comes to the boss. You’ve got such a hard-on for Miranda it’s embarrassing,” says Doug.
“Shut up,” Andrea cries, blushing, and Miranda feels an answering blush flare up in her cheeks.
“We might have to send you for some help in the new year, Six,” Nigel adds. “Anybody who continues not only to work for the woman but actually purports to like her needs some intense therapy.”
“Like is too tame a word, Nigel,” Serena says. “I’d say something else, like--”
“Hey, I didn’t invite you all over here to make fun of me all night long, especially when I slaved over a hot stove for three hours to make this happen!” Andrea barks, and she’s not joking. “So someone cut the lasagna and pass out the salad. I’ll be right back. And for god’s sake, open the wine.” Andrea wipes her hands on her apron and walks out of the room in a huff.
Moments later, an African-American woman leaves a few presents in the corner of the kitchen, shrugging off her coat at the same time. “Doug, you’re in charge. Get everything on the plates by the time we get back or you’re on Santa’s naughty list. And you,” the woman says, wagging a finger at Nigel, Emily and Serena, “No more Miranda talk. Andy’s had a hard enough time this week.”
Emily cringes, while Nigel nods, saying, “Sorry, Lily. Our lips are sealed.”
The woman, Lily, leaves the kitchen and Doug takes action, slicing into the lasagna with gusto as Serena gets the salad going. They all look contrite. The ghost tugs Miranda out of the room, where they find Lily with a hand on Andrea’s back as they both gaze out the window.
“They’re just teasing, honey,” Lily says softly.
“I know,” Andrea replies. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just--” Tears spring to Andrea’s eyes. “I can’t help but care about her. And lately she’s treated me like shit, worse than it was at the beginning. What’s wrong with me? Am I really such a masochist?”
“No, girl. You’re just having a tough time right now. But if you want me to tell you what I really think, I will. You can say no,” Lily says, hesitating.
“Tell me,” Andrea says quickly.
“You should move on. You’ve been at Runway for more than two years, which is about twice as long as your original plan, and I know the only reason you’ve stuck around is Miranda.” Andrea opens her mouth as if to argue, and Lily shakes her head. “Ah-ah, no way, you’ve said it yourself after one too many glasses of red. It’s time to ask Miranda for the recommendation she promised, and get the hell out. It’s for your own sake, Andy. I love you and I hate to watch you waste your life on somebody who’s never going to see you as the prize you are.” Lily puts her head on Andrea’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around her. “Think it over. That’s all I ask.”
“Okay, Lil. Thanks.” A tear splashes down Andrea’s cheek before she wipes it away. “I hate to be so maudlin over the holiday. I’m going to forget about it and just have fun. I don’t have to work tomorrow so I plan on drinking way too much tonight.”
Lily grins. “Don’t go too crazy. You know we’re all coming back for dinner tomorrow night and I’d hate to have you cooking hungover. We both know how well that goes.”
Andrea rolls her eyes. “God, don’t remind me. Just thinking about that day makes me want to hurl.”
“Me too. So we’ll keep our heads tonight and go a little wild tomorrow. I’ll come early and help with the turkey, and I’ve already made the pies. We’ll spend the day watching movies before everyone arrives.”
Andrea takes a deep sigh, turning around to hug Lily. “Sounds perfect.” Andrea’s eyes are filled with sadness, and when they close, more tears stream down her cheeks. “That’s exactly what I need.”
Andrea and Lily return to the kitchen, where everyone is seated with full plates of food and apologetic expressions on their faces. “Merry Christmas, Andy,” Doug says, motioning her toward an empty seat at the head of the table. “Let’s enjoy it.”
Andrea smiles, and the melancholy in her eyes disappears. “Looks pretty good if I do say so myself!”
Everyone claps as the two gets settled in their chairs, and the wine is poured freely around the table. They hold up their glasses in unison for a toast, which Nigel begins. “A toast to our girl Andy, who made this beautiful meal for us to celebrate the holidays together, among friends. I, for one, am grateful to be welcomed into a home and feel like not just a friend, but like family. And I have you to thank for that, Six. So here’s to you-I wish you the merriest of Christmases, and a new year filled with happiness. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” echoes the rest of the table as they all clink their glasses together.
Andrea truly looks touched, and humbled. “You are family,” Andrea begins, “My second family. And I’m honored to have you here-I love you. So let’s eat!”
There’s a raucous shout from everyone, and they dig into their meals. Miranda wishes, out of nowhere, to have a seat at this table; to share a repast with these people who all seem to care so deeply for Andrea. And to be with Andrea, whose affection for her goes far deeper than she anticipated. The thought warms Miranda, who watches with pleasure as Andrea eats and drinks her fill.
“You care for her more than you thought?” the ghost says, nudging Miranda with an elbow. “She is extraordinary.”
Miranda doesn’t speak, preferring to enjoy the peace of her silent observation. There’s a strange sensation blooming in the top of her head-a lightness and a longing combined that makes her want to know Andrea better. Is it simply because she has concrete evidence of how much Andrea cares for her, or is it something that’s been lurking in her own heart for longer than she cares to admit?
“We must go,” the ghost says. “The present is passing, and my time grows short.” Miranda looks up at him and realizes his red hair and beard are streaked with gray. He appears to have aged decades in the time they’ve spent together.
“What happened?” Miranda asks, startled.
“I have only today, my girl. Only the now, and what little I have left. But you’ve known that all along. We all only have each day, and we must embrace it as if it were our last. Don’t you see?”
When Miranda blinks next, she is back in her office, and the spirit is gone. The silence around her is thick. She sinks into her chair, exhausted.
----
Part IV.