PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL (5/7)
Title: Personal and Professional
Author: dearelphie
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: PG
Summary: For the first time in her life Miranda goes to Russian Fashion Week and takes Andy with her.
Disclaimer: I don’t own all these characters.
Day five
Before noon Andy had a rest. To be more precise, she was sitting in her room and waiting for phone calls or messages for Miranda, so she could not go out and take a walk, but she could take the liberty to wear a bathrobe, to listen to music and to read a book or a newspaper what was for her such relaxation she hadn’t known for more than a year.
Miranda returned at about half past four and came to Andy’s room.
“I’m sorry I entered without knocking”, Miranda said, “to tell the truth I thought you were sleeping again”.
“No, Miranda, I took the phone calls and…”
“The car is waiting downstairs. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Please don’t be late, I don’t intend to be waiting,” with that she turned around and left.
Andy was standing still for about thirty seconds. Did she mishear? Does Miranda want to take Andy with her again?
“Oh my God,” the girl said to herself, “I think yesterday I did something right.”
“Drop us at the Arbat,” Miranda said addressing the driver, then shifted her glance at Andy, “it won’t be as long today as it was yesterday. We’ll take a walk down the Arbat, and I need to buy a couple of art books at the bookstore”.
“Okay, I’ll walk into it,” Andy said with a smile, “what art books do you want to buy?”
“I’ll do it myself”.
“Wait, will you go to the bookstore yourself?” Andy asked in surprise. Miranda gave her a stare in reply. “I mean maybe you still want me to go to the store and buy everything you need?”
“Andrea, if I wanted to send you to the store I won’t talk in riddles. I need to go there myself and choose exactly what I want”.
Miranda’s cell rang.
“Yes, Carolina? I’m okay. Does your dad entertain you? Not bad. What? Come on, Carolina, she is not serious. Cassidy and you have a lovely hair color. Upon my word. Don’t even think of dying your hair. Well, if you don’t believe me, call Emily, she’ll tell you that red is the best. Okay. I’ll bring something to you, I promise. I miss you, too”. Miranda hung up. “Some day I’ll lose my mind”.
“Don’t say so, Miranda”.
“Honestly”, Miranda said more to herself than to anyone else, “they always listen to their stupid friends who statedly say that either they are too short, or their hair color is dreadful, or they had bad luck to have such parents.”
“Do they really say so?”
“About the parents? They don’t say, but they think so. I’m sure about that… Whatever… Nothing will change no matter what they say.”
Miranda shook her head, and the hopelessness in her eyes seemed familiar to Andy, it was exactly like in Paris, in Miranda’s suite when the girl learned about her boss’s divorce. And she couldn’t think of something more original than repeating herself:
“I’m so sorry, Miranda. Can I do anything for you?”
Miranda thought for a second:
“I’m not sure”, she answered at last.
Miranda and Andy got off the car.
“Who was in Moscow just for once, definitely walked down the Arbat”, Miranda said, “let’s go,” and to Andy’s great surprise she came up to her and took her arm.
"Nothing personal?" The girl thought and smiled.
“It’s the oldest street of Moscow,” Miranda continued when they were walking along the narrow street, on its both sides there were little houses, mostly they were cafes or shops, “there are many interesting things here”.
Right in the street there were souvenir counters: with Russian dolls, clothes, crockery and wooden pieces. There were so many of them that it made Andy dizzy, she wanted to buy something that could remain from this trip as a keepsake. And she could buy something not only for herself, but also for Doug, Lily and her parents. But Miranda seemed no to show any interest in everything that seller offered, so Andy decided to act in the same way as her companion, because she didn’t want to hear Miranda’s comments about how easy it was to captivate her with some trifles.
They almost came to the end of the street, and Andy’s gaze fell on a familiar round green signboard of Starbucks. An idea leaped into her mind.
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” The girl asked.
“Actually it is.”
“I just wanted to offer you coffee”.
“How nice of you,” Miranda said histrionically, “not really! Will you pay for me?”
“Yes, I will,” Andy smiled and lead her boss to the coffeehouse.
“Okay”, Andy pronounced and turned to Miranda when they came inside, “find somewhere a place for us, and I’ll go and buy coffee.”
Miranda became confused. Find a place?
There were many people in the coffeehouse, and Miranda hardly could find free seats in the corner and sat down. Andy came to her in five minutes with two Grande Lattes and two Greek salads.
“Nice people are here”, she said sitting down, “even understand English”.
“It’s a street for tourists, everybody speaks English here”, Miranda replied taking a latte from the table. “Since when have you drunk latte?”
“Well, actually, I took this habit from you”, Andy said a little confused, “earlier I drank cappuccino, but if you choose latte, it’s really worth drinking”.
“It’s a matter of taste”, Miranda sipped her coffee, “why do you have to change yourself in reliance on other people’s style. Maybe latte isn’t so good. Didn’t you think about it?” She looked at her assistant. “Maybe my taste fails me.” Andy was silent. She didn’t expect such a philosophy. “For example, colors. I like blue, and you like green. Which is more beautiful? I love winter, and you love summer. What is better? If I wear skirts, it doesn’t mean that everybody must wear skirts. Right?”
“Right, but… You know, if you choose something, it means that your choice is right”, the girl said in a halting voice.
“Who said it to you?”
“Nobody. All people know it.”
“And why do they know it?” Miranda didn’t calm down.
“I don’t know. They just do.”
“Do you know why they know it? They were told by those editors and assistants who had worked before, who in turn were told by those editors and assistants that had worked before, and I can continue this chain endlessly to my first working day at ‘Runway’, when my first assistant asked me what coffee I would like, then I told her about latte. I don’t even remember why I said so, maybe I liked it then indeed, but the fact is that since that moment nobody asked me what coffee I preferred. Every morning some assistant puts a latte on my table already for twenty years. And I have got used to its smell and its taste, and maybe I don’t want to change this use for the simple reason that if I suddenly ask for mocha, for instance, the editorial staff will think what’s wrong with Miranda? Did she ask for mocha? And you in fact drink this coffee because of my twenty years old passing wish. Is it okay to you to be aware of it?”
And now Andy remembered HER first working day at ‘Runway’ and Miranda’s lecture about the cerulean sweater. Obviously she’ll never forget it. And what Miranda said now reminded Andy that speech. But she realized that though Miranda criticized her, she didn’t spoke with that viperous sarcasm like then. The girl felt pity and… disappointment in her voice. Andy closed her eyes for a second. She disappointed Miranda.
“Don’t worry,” the editor pronounced with warmth in her voice, “latte is not the worst thing you could take from me”, and she smiled.
“Okay”, Miranda said leaving the coffeehouse, “I need to go to the bookstore in the next street. If you don’t want to go with me, you may go somewhere else. Just don’t go too far.”
“No, Miranda, I’m with you.”
“Well, it’s your choice.”
The bookstore Miranda had told about was so huge that Andy got lost at first. One could be here for one, two or three hours, but not to take a good look at everything here. As Miranda had a specific purpose, she started for the expensive edition department and turned to the sales assistant. But as the assistant didn’t speak English at all, the manager came up to Miranda and handled her wishes. Andy was standing apart examining Russian books, and as far as she could hear Miranda needed something art-historical. But everything the manager offered to her was either too cheap or too tasteless. Altogether Andy had to be waiting for about forty minutes until her boss came at last to a decision. Miranda bought two enormous books, paid for them and asked to send them to the Ritz Carlton. After that she gave Andy a nod and they both went downstairs to the exit.
When they came to the street, they could scarcely believe their eyes. For the hour they spent at the store streets got snowed up so much that the women could hardly recognize the place where they were standing.
“Whoa!” Andy pronounced in surprise.
“It happens,” Miranda said.
“Nicolay said he would be waiting for us at that place where he had dropped us. Well it’s not far from here. We can walk there.”
Both women stepped out from under the porch roof in the snowfall. In ten minutes they were standing at the place waiting for the driver who wasn’t there. Andy dialed his number.
“Nicolay? Is everything alright? What?.. Um… Yes, I see”, and she hung up, “he’s in a hard traffic because of this snowfall, he’ll be here in no less than half an hour,” she said to Miranda ready for her angry outpourings.
“I see,” to Andy’s great surprise Miranda didn’t even show any interest in it, instead of it she quickly looked about and when seemed to have found what she was looking for, started for the door of a small café.
This place was undistinguished. A small café was meant for fifteen persons at the very outside. Except for Andy and Miranda there was a couple in the corner sitting and talking about something very quietly. The café was decorated in dark colors, the furniture was out of wood and the walls were also with wooden finishing, a waitress was standing at the bar counter. Miranda came to her.
“Excuse me, do you speak English?” She said to her very politely.
“Yes, a little”, the girl answered visibly blushing.
“I’d like two steaks and two glasses of um… mulled wine. Don’t understand? Um… Glühwein… Well warm red wine with spices”, the girl nodded with a cheery smile showing her comprehension, “oh, good.” Miranda sighed with relief and started for the table near the window.
“Will you drink wine?” Andy asked in utter surprise.
“Why?”
“You usually don’t drink alcohol…”
“Well yes. But I think some warm wine wouldn’t be out of place in such weather.”
In some minutes the waitress brought the steaks and the wine.
“I’m sorry”, Miranda said, “just an hour ago I made a pompous speech about taking decisions by yourself, but this time I chose for you. I would hardly manage the menu card in Russian. Steak is the most intelligible I can pronounce.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, let’s drink to the weather, the reason we are here, in such a nice place,” and Miranda raised her glass.
When they finished their wine Miranda shed her coat.
“It’s getting hot here, I suppose”, she said putting her coat on the coat hanger near the table.
“You didn’t used to your coat looking in you plate, did you?” Andy asked.
“Actually… No, I didn’t”, and they both laughed.
“Why did you invite me again?” Andy asked suddenly.
“Invite?”
“I mean, took with you to the city”.
“I think I have already explained it to you. I need a companion. And what did you think?” And Miranda gave Andy a level look.
“Don’t think I poke nose into else’s business, but when you and I are together alone, you are not so…”
“What do you mean ‘so’?”
“Well, you know, you speak with me not like with your junior, but as equals…”
Miranda said nothing in reply; she stood up, came to the bar counter and asked for another two glasses of wine. Andy looked at her open-mouthed.
“You know, Andrea”, Miranda continued after she had returned, “I didn’t want to speak about it, but since you started the subject… Of all my assistants you turned out to be the only one who’s smart. And after I say it, something will probably change between us, but I want you to understand one thing: I’m not your friend. I’m your boss, do you understand?” Andy nodded, staring into Miranda’s eyes. “And I also know that you must move up the career ladder, I see it perfectly. I see your ambitions. You’ll make a brilliant career, no doubt. But here and now I need such assistant like you. You not only want to get a nice point of your resume, you are given to your work”, she sipped her wine.
“No, Miranda, please, don’t think I…” But Miranda raised her hand letting Andy know she didn’t finish yet.
“The fact is that I really feel you are a kindred spirit. I don’t waste words, and then in Paris I said that I thought in very deed. You are me thirty years ago. I see your potential and I want to help you to fulfil it. Of course you are free to choose your way in the life, but I would like you to stay at our publication.”
“But why don’t you promote me to your first assistant at least?”
“To tell the truth, Andrea, I don’t want you to be someone’s assistant. It’s time to go ahead”, Miranda smiled.
“Why should I trust you?”
Miranda gave Andy a questioning look, and the girl understood this question was one too many, but since it was spoken aloud, it was late to step back.
“Why should I trust you, Miranda? You promised Nigel a new job by James Holt, but went back from your word.”
“Andrea”, Miranda didn’t even hesitate, “I repeat once again, you get to choose. Don’t want to trust - please, don’t; I can’t hold you by force. You may go, you’ll get highest references, but will they give you that what I will? Think before choosing, but, please, don’t bother me with your questions.”
“May I ask the last one?”
Miranda nodded.
“Yesterday you said you had invited me… I mean… took me with you and there was nothing personal in it. What does it mean?”
“It means what I said: nothing personal. You are doing your job… Though there is something. Everything I said to you now is my PERSONAL estimation of your professional qualifications. “
“I see. Thank you for frankness. You know”, Andy changed the subject abruptly, “this place is not so bad”.
“Please,” Miranda smirked, “it’s just awful.”
“Not really, I like it.”
“It reminded me my first dates with my first husband. It was so long ago.”
“And I always go to such places with my friends. My boyfriend was a chef in one restaurant. Now he’s in Boston, a senior chef, and not my boyfriend anymore… I’m sorry, I’m obviously in drink. I shouldn’t have spoken with you about my private life.”
By Miranda’s face the girl could see that she was amusing looking at Andy’s confusion.
“And you haven’t find anyone,” Miranda said. It was not a question.
“Actually no. My work takes me a lot of time. No constancy. I’m sitting on a volcano…”
“You don’t need to go into details. I kind of have an idea of it”, Miranda quipped.
“Oh, Miranda”, and now Andy understood she had to drink not so much, but after all Miranda ordered the second glass herself. Andy felt so stupid. What were all her problems? Some quarrels with Nate and her parents? Miranda must feel thousand times worse. Two children, three divorces, she did all by herself. Aware of this fact Andy knew despite Miranda and she were sitting here together there was a long distance that separated them and that would never be shortened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll go get me a blow.”
Miranda stood up, took her coat from the rack, threw some notes for the wine on the table and went out. Andy joined her in a minute. The snowfall subsided.
“Call the driver and tell him not to hurry, we’ll try to take a taxi”, Miranda said hitting the road.
In twenty minutes both women came to the hotel. Miranda paid for the taxi; hardly understanding the driver, she didn’t take the change, then turned to Andy and said:
“Be in my suite at about 9 p.m. I need to check the schedule once again.”
At ten to nine Andy knocked on Miranda’s door. The editor opened it right away.
“Come in”, she said. She was showing some signs of worry.
Andy passed into the room and sat down into the armchair. Miranda sat opposite opening her enormous day planner.
“At 9 a.m. you have an appointment with Karina concerning the final version of the shoot. Then at half past ten you’ll meet the designers. At half past eleven - lunch. In the afternoon there’ll be some shows and dinner at 7 p.m.”
“Good”, Miranda nodded, closed the day planner and stood up. Having noticed that Andy didn’t move, she looked at her and added, “that’s all”.
Andy perplexedly tucked the notebook into her bag, got up and left Miranda’s suite.
“What’s wrong with her?” The girl thought lying in her bed. “I’ll believe soon that she is really not all there. Fist she had a heart-to-heart talk in a small café at a glass of wine. How romantically, Miranda! I didn’t know you were a romantic thing. And tonight Gorgon herself would turn to stone from her gaze. She’s not my friend. She is not my friend. She is my boss. There’s nothing personal between us. Miranda is my boss. Miranda… Miranda…”
TBC...
Author: dearelphie
Pairing: Miranda/Andrea
Rating: PG
Summary: For the first time in her life Miranda goes to Russian Fashion Week and takes Andy with her.
Disclaimer: I don’t own all these characters.
Day five
Before noon Andy had a rest. To be more precise, she was sitting in her room and waiting for phone calls or messages for Miranda, so she could not go out and take a walk, but she could take the liberty to wear a bathrobe, to listen to music and to read a book or a newspaper what was for her such relaxation she hadn’t known for more than a year.
Miranda returned at about half past four and came to Andy’s room.
“I’m sorry I entered without knocking”, Miranda said, “to tell the truth I thought you were sleeping again”.
“No, Miranda, I took the phone calls and…”
“The car is waiting downstairs. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Please don’t be late, I don’t intend to be waiting,” with that she turned around and left.
Andy was standing still for about thirty seconds. Did she mishear? Does Miranda want to take Andy with her again?
“Oh my God,” the girl said to herself, “I think yesterday I did something right.”
“Drop us at the Arbat,” Miranda said addressing the driver, then shifted her glance at Andy, “it won’t be as long today as it was yesterday. We’ll take a walk down the Arbat, and I need to buy a couple of art books at the bookstore”.
“Okay, I’ll walk into it,” Andy said with a smile, “what art books do you want to buy?”
“I’ll do it myself”.
“Wait, will you go to the bookstore yourself?” Andy asked in surprise. Miranda gave her a stare in reply. “I mean maybe you still want me to go to the store and buy everything you need?”
“Andrea, if I wanted to send you to the store I won’t talk in riddles. I need to go there myself and choose exactly what I want”.
Miranda’s cell rang.
“Yes, Carolina? I’m okay. Does your dad entertain you? Not bad. What? Come on, Carolina, she is not serious. Cassidy and you have a lovely hair color. Upon my word. Don’t even think of dying your hair. Well, if you don’t believe me, call Emily, she’ll tell you that red is the best. Okay. I’ll bring something to you, I promise. I miss you, too”. Miranda hung up. “Some day I’ll lose my mind”.
“Don’t say so, Miranda”.
“Honestly”, Miranda said more to herself than to anyone else, “they always listen to their stupid friends who statedly say that either they are too short, or their hair color is dreadful, or they had bad luck to have such parents.”
“Do they really say so?”
“About the parents? They don’t say, but they think so. I’m sure about that… Whatever… Nothing will change no matter what they say.”
Miranda shook her head, and the hopelessness in her eyes seemed familiar to Andy, it was exactly like in Paris, in Miranda’s suite when the girl learned about her boss’s divorce. And she couldn’t think of something more original than repeating herself:
“I’m so sorry, Miranda. Can I do anything for you?”
Miranda thought for a second:
“I’m not sure”, she answered at last.
Miranda and Andy got off the car.
“Who was in Moscow just for once, definitely walked down the Arbat”, Miranda said, “let’s go,” and to Andy’s great surprise she came up to her and took her arm.
"Nothing personal?" The girl thought and smiled.
“It’s the oldest street of Moscow,” Miranda continued when they were walking along the narrow street, on its both sides there were little houses, mostly they were cafes or shops, “there are many interesting things here”.
Right in the street there were souvenir counters: with Russian dolls, clothes, crockery and wooden pieces. There were so many of them that it made Andy dizzy, she wanted to buy something that could remain from this trip as a keepsake. And she could buy something not only for herself, but also for Doug, Lily and her parents. But Miranda seemed no to show any interest in everything that seller offered, so Andy decided to act in the same way as her companion, because she didn’t want to hear Miranda’s comments about how easy it was to captivate her with some trifles.
They almost came to the end of the street, and Andy’s gaze fell on a familiar round green signboard of Starbucks. An idea leaped into her mind.
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” The girl asked.
“Actually it is.”
“I just wanted to offer you coffee”.
“How nice of you,” Miranda said histrionically, “not really! Will you pay for me?”
“Yes, I will,” Andy smiled and lead her boss to the coffeehouse.
“Okay”, Andy pronounced and turned to Miranda when they came inside, “find somewhere a place for us, and I’ll go and buy coffee.”
Miranda became confused. Find a place?
There were many people in the coffeehouse, and Miranda hardly could find free seats in the corner and sat down. Andy came to her in five minutes with two Grande Lattes and two Greek salads.
“Nice people are here”, she said sitting down, “even understand English”.
“It’s a street for tourists, everybody speaks English here”, Miranda replied taking a latte from the table. “Since when have you drunk latte?”
“Well, actually, I took this habit from you”, Andy said a little confused, “earlier I drank cappuccino, but if you choose latte, it’s really worth drinking”.
“It’s a matter of taste”, Miranda sipped her coffee, “why do you have to change yourself in reliance on other people’s style. Maybe latte isn’t so good. Didn’t you think about it?” She looked at her assistant. “Maybe my taste fails me.” Andy was silent. She didn’t expect such a philosophy. “For example, colors. I like blue, and you like green. Which is more beautiful? I love winter, and you love summer. What is better? If I wear skirts, it doesn’t mean that everybody must wear skirts. Right?”
“Right, but… You know, if you choose something, it means that your choice is right”, the girl said in a halting voice.
“Who said it to you?”
“Nobody. All people know it.”
“And why do they know it?” Miranda didn’t calm down.
“I don’t know. They just do.”
“Do you know why they know it? They were told by those editors and assistants who had worked before, who in turn were told by those editors and assistants that had worked before, and I can continue this chain endlessly to my first working day at ‘Runway’, when my first assistant asked me what coffee I would like, then I told her about latte. I don’t even remember why I said so, maybe I liked it then indeed, but the fact is that since that moment nobody asked me what coffee I preferred. Every morning some assistant puts a latte on my table already for twenty years. And I have got used to its smell and its taste, and maybe I don’t want to change this use for the simple reason that if I suddenly ask for mocha, for instance, the editorial staff will think what’s wrong with Miranda? Did she ask for mocha? And you in fact drink this coffee because of my twenty years old passing wish. Is it okay to you to be aware of it?”
And now Andy remembered HER first working day at ‘Runway’ and Miranda’s lecture about the cerulean sweater. Obviously she’ll never forget it. And what Miranda said now reminded Andy that speech. But she realized that though Miranda criticized her, she didn’t spoke with that viperous sarcasm like then. The girl felt pity and… disappointment in her voice. Andy closed her eyes for a second. She disappointed Miranda.
“Don’t worry,” the editor pronounced with warmth in her voice, “latte is not the worst thing you could take from me”, and she smiled.
“Okay”, Miranda said leaving the coffeehouse, “I need to go to the bookstore in the next street. If you don’t want to go with me, you may go somewhere else. Just don’t go too far.”
“No, Miranda, I’m with you.”
“Well, it’s your choice.”
The bookstore Miranda had told about was so huge that Andy got lost at first. One could be here for one, two or three hours, but not to take a good look at everything here. As Miranda had a specific purpose, she started for the expensive edition department and turned to the sales assistant. But as the assistant didn’t speak English at all, the manager came up to Miranda and handled her wishes. Andy was standing apart examining Russian books, and as far as she could hear Miranda needed something art-historical. But everything the manager offered to her was either too cheap or too tasteless. Altogether Andy had to be waiting for about forty minutes until her boss came at last to a decision. Miranda bought two enormous books, paid for them and asked to send them to the Ritz Carlton. After that she gave Andy a nod and they both went downstairs to the exit.
When they came to the street, they could scarcely believe their eyes. For the hour they spent at the store streets got snowed up so much that the women could hardly recognize the place where they were standing.
“Whoa!” Andy pronounced in surprise.
“It happens,” Miranda said.
“Nicolay said he would be waiting for us at that place where he had dropped us. Well it’s not far from here. We can walk there.”
Both women stepped out from under the porch roof in the snowfall. In ten minutes they were standing at the place waiting for the driver who wasn’t there. Andy dialed his number.
“Nicolay? Is everything alright? What?.. Um… Yes, I see”, and she hung up, “he’s in a hard traffic because of this snowfall, he’ll be here in no less than half an hour,” she said to Miranda ready for her angry outpourings.
“I see,” to Andy’s great surprise Miranda didn’t even show any interest in it, instead of it she quickly looked about and when seemed to have found what she was looking for, started for the door of a small café.
This place was undistinguished. A small café was meant for fifteen persons at the very outside. Except for Andy and Miranda there was a couple in the corner sitting and talking about something very quietly. The café was decorated in dark colors, the furniture was out of wood and the walls were also with wooden finishing, a waitress was standing at the bar counter. Miranda came to her.
“Excuse me, do you speak English?” She said to her very politely.
“Yes, a little”, the girl answered visibly blushing.
“I’d like two steaks and two glasses of um… mulled wine. Don’t understand? Um… Glühwein… Well warm red wine with spices”, the girl nodded with a cheery smile showing her comprehension, “oh, good.” Miranda sighed with relief and started for the table near the window.
“Will you drink wine?” Andy asked in utter surprise.
“Why?”
“You usually don’t drink alcohol…”
“Well yes. But I think some warm wine wouldn’t be out of place in such weather.”
In some minutes the waitress brought the steaks and the wine.
“I’m sorry”, Miranda said, “just an hour ago I made a pompous speech about taking decisions by yourself, but this time I chose for you. I would hardly manage the menu card in Russian. Steak is the most intelligible I can pronounce.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, let’s drink to the weather, the reason we are here, in such a nice place,” and Miranda raised her glass.
When they finished their wine Miranda shed her coat.
“It’s getting hot here, I suppose”, she said putting her coat on the coat hanger near the table.
“You didn’t used to your coat looking in you plate, did you?” Andy asked.
“Actually… No, I didn’t”, and they both laughed.
“Why did you invite me again?” Andy asked suddenly.
“Invite?”
“I mean, took with you to the city”.
“I think I have already explained it to you. I need a companion. And what did you think?” And Miranda gave Andy a level look.
“Don’t think I poke nose into else’s business, but when you and I are together alone, you are not so…”
“What do you mean ‘so’?”
“Well, you know, you speak with me not like with your junior, but as equals…”
Miranda said nothing in reply; she stood up, came to the bar counter and asked for another two glasses of wine. Andy looked at her open-mouthed.
“You know, Andrea”, Miranda continued after she had returned, “I didn’t want to speak about it, but since you started the subject… Of all my assistants you turned out to be the only one who’s smart. And after I say it, something will probably change between us, but I want you to understand one thing: I’m not your friend. I’m your boss, do you understand?” Andy nodded, staring into Miranda’s eyes. “And I also know that you must move up the career ladder, I see it perfectly. I see your ambitions. You’ll make a brilliant career, no doubt. But here and now I need such assistant like you. You not only want to get a nice point of your resume, you are given to your work”, she sipped her wine.
“No, Miranda, please, don’t think I…” But Miranda raised her hand letting Andy know she didn’t finish yet.
“The fact is that I really feel you are a kindred spirit. I don’t waste words, and then in Paris I said that I thought in very deed. You are me thirty years ago. I see your potential and I want to help you to fulfil it. Of course you are free to choose your way in the life, but I would like you to stay at our publication.”
“But why don’t you promote me to your first assistant at least?”
“To tell the truth, Andrea, I don’t want you to be someone’s assistant. It’s time to go ahead”, Miranda smiled.
“Why should I trust you?”
Miranda gave Andy a questioning look, and the girl understood this question was one too many, but since it was spoken aloud, it was late to step back.
“Why should I trust you, Miranda? You promised Nigel a new job by James Holt, but went back from your word.”
“Andrea”, Miranda didn’t even hesitate, “I repeat once again, you get to choose. Don’t want to trust - please, don’t; I can’t hold you by force. You may go, you’ll get highest references, but will they give you that what I will? Think before choosing, but, please, don’t bother me with your questions.”
“May I ask the last one?”
Miranda nodded.
“Yesterday you said you had invited me… I mean… took me with you and there was nothing personal in it. What does it mean?”
“It means what I said: nothing personal. You are doing your job… Though there is something. Everything I said to you now is my PERSONAL estimation of your professional qualifications. “
“I see. Thank you for frankness. You know”, Andy changed the subject abruptly, “this place is not so bad”.
“Please,” Miranda smirked, “it’s just awful.”
“Not really, I like it.”
“It reminded me my first dates with my first husband. It was so long ago.”
“And I always go to such places with my friends. My boyfriend was a chef in one restaurant. Now he’s in Boston, a senior chef, and not my boyfriend anymore… I’m sorry, I’m obviously in drink. I shouldn’t have spoken with you about my private life.”
By Miranda’s face the girl could see that she was amusing looking at Andy’s confusion.
“And you haven’t find anyone,” Miranda said. It was not a question.
“Actually no. My work takes me a lot of time. No constancy. I’m sitting on a volcano…”
“You don’t need to go into details. I kind of have an idea of it”, Miranda quipped.
“Oh, Miranda”, and now Andy understood she had to drink not so much, but after all Miranda ordered the second glass herself. Andy felt so stupid. What were all her problems? Some quarrels with Nate and her parents? Miranda must feel thousand times worse. Two children, three divorces, she did all by herself. Aware of this fact Andy knew despite Miranda and she were sitting here together there was a long distance that separated them and that would never be shortened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll go get me a blow.”
Miranda stood up, took her coat from the rack, threw some notes for the wine on the table and went out. Andy joined her in a minute. The snowfall subsided.
“Call the driver and tell him not to hurry, we’ll try to take a taxi”, Miranda said hitting the road.
In twenty minutes both women came to the hotel. Miranda paid for the taxi; hardly understanding the driver, she didn’t take the change, then turned to Andy and said:
“Be in my suite at about 9 p.m. I need to check the schedule once again.”
At ten to nine Andy knocked on Miranda’s door. The editor opened it right away.
“Come in”, she said. She was showing some signs of worry.
Andy passed into the room and sat down into the armchair. Miranda sat opposite opening her enormous day planner.
“At 9 a.m. you have an appointment with Karina concerning the final version of the shoot. Then at half past ten you’ll meet the designers. At half past eleven - lunch. In the afternoon there’ll be some shows and dinner at 7 p.m.”
“Good”, Miranda nodded, closed the day planner and stood up. Having noticed that Andy didn’t move, she looked at her and added, “that’s all”.
Andy perplexedly tucked the notebook into her bag, got up and left Miranda’s suite.
“What’s wrong with her?” The girl thought lying in her bed. “I’ll believe soon that she is really not all there. Fist she had a heart-to-heart talk in a small café at a glass of wine. How romantically, Miranda! I didn’t know you were a romantic thing. And tonight Gorgon herself would turn to stone from her gaze. She’s not my friend. She is not my friend. She is my boss. There’s nothing personal between us. Miranda is my boss. Miranda… Miranda…”
TBC...