FIC: No Matter the Miles (12/ tentatively 20)
Title: No Matter the Miles (12/ tentatively 20)
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Prompt(s):From random_flores..."Love's not a competition (but I'm winning)"
Summary: Five years after Andy leaves Runway, circumstances bring our two favorite characters back together.
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: This chapter really got away from me. A lot had to happen and it's a little longer than I anticipated, but I don't think you guys will mind too much :P. A special thanks goes to skeeter451 and mirandyscrow for helping with the dream. Thanks to inlove_n_inhate for her assistance on this chapter months ago. LOL and a huge thank you to dragonwine who does the behind the scenes work, catching my mistakes. Thanks! Now on to the story...comments are love!
Miranda sat down in her chair and flipped open the Book, her mind racing with a hundred things that would need to be changed before the end of the day. After the cops had left with Connor in cuffs, who was spewing all sorts of nasty things at her and she’d finished her argument with Caroline, she’d been too exhausted to finish going over the Book. She was still angry about Connor’s sudden appearance at her home. He’d been there all of two times while they’d been seeing each other and on both occasions she’d made sure the girls were not home. She’d made the rules clear from the very beginning and he’d ignored almost every single one of them and now she was going to have to ruin him. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He really had such a promising future in photography, but her children had been brought into the situation. And she didn’t take too kindly to people ignoring that boundary. So she pulled out her list. By lunch time, he’d be blacklisted by everyone she knew.
She picked up one of the morning papers. At least the press hadn’t caught wind of Connor’s arrest last night. That would have been a nightmare. Not that the whole ordeal hadn’t been one, she thought with a silent sigh. Still the relief that normally came when she had dodged that particular bullet didn’t come. No, something else was bothering her.
Maybe it was the strange dream she’d had the night before. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details. She’d been walking through the lobby of Elias-Clarke like she did every morning. Then somehow, she was going down the hall of Runway’s office, but instead of reaching her inner office, the hall just seemed to extend on and on. She thought perhaps there were random slices of various types of cheese lining the floor and she was sure that as she passed by one of the offices Emily was dressed in a bizarre costume and tap dancing. Suddenly it was filled with former assistants and male acquaintances. Some she had long since forgotten. At first they all cowered in fear, as per the usual. The next thing she knew, they were all laughing and pointing at her. They kept saying, “She doesn’t even know…You have no idea…” She tried to walk faster, but they just got closer and louder, grabbing at her. She thought she’d never get free. Fear and panic rose inside of her, but she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t make a sound as they all crowded around her. They seemed to grow in number with each passing second. She felt like she was drowning. Falling to her knees, she tried to claw her way out, but to no avail. She could hear someone calling out to her, shouting her name and reaching out a hand. She could barely reach the slender hand, but recognized Andrea’s voice right away.
“Just hold on, Miranda. I’m on my way!” Miranda couldn’t see her and again, she couldn’t speak. She tried even harder to get away, to fight her way towards Andrea’s voice.
A hand reached into the sea of bodies, grabbing hers and pulling her out of the mass. It was Stephen, she realized and for some odd reason, he was dressed in a chicken suit. She turned to thank him, but he began to peck at shoulder. Startled, Miranda pulled her arm away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, moving back as he advanced on her.
“Mira,” he practically purred and her stomach turned. “Didn’t you ever wonder why you didn’t care about me? You didn’t even care about the divorce.” Over the laughter and ridicule, she could still hear Andrea’s calls, but the bodies stood between them.
Affronted, Miranda pursed her lips. “I did care, Stephen. I really loved you, “she said, surprising herself by her vehemence.
That didn’t seem to stop the pecking. He moved up to her neck and her hair and the bodies seemed to be turning on them again. “Don’t lie,” he sneered. “You care for someone else.”
“What? That’s not true…” She covered her mouth in shock as she realized what he said was true.
“Oh, but it is, Mira. There’s someone else you want. It’s time you woke up!”
Shaking her head, refusing to believe him, she protested, “No, it’s not true. It can’t be.”
She could see Andrea begin to make her way through, could see her fighting off the bodies and it made her want to run towards her.
Stephen’s laugh turned evil. “WAKE UP, MIRANDA!”
That was the last thing she remembered before the blaring of her alarm clock started her awake. Miranda shook her head, feeling the anxiety and frustration from the dream begin to fill her. She was sure other things had happened in the dream, but the details were fuzzy. Stephen’s words bothered her, but why they did, she wasn’t sure. It was like being almost finished with a puzzle, but one of the pieces was missing. Only, she was pretty sure her missing piece was just out of reach.
Not wanting to dwell, she opened the paper in her hand. She frowned at the front-page story. Carl Schaffer’s byline brought a frown to her perfectly painted lips. She didn’t bother reading it. His writing was just as shallow and pretentious as the man himself. If she’d known that he was as prone to spouting right-wing propaganda and falling prey to his own falsely inflated ego as his writing implied, she would have never dated him in the first place. Thank God Andrea’s writing wasn’t nearly as crass and she’d come a long way from her earlier days at the Mirror. Over the past month, Miranda had read quite a few of Andrea’s articles and while she thought they were still a bit ambitious, she couldn’t deny the fact that the girl had a real knack for getting to the heart of a matter.
She found herself smiling at the thought and frowned. She questioned her motives, not for the first time, about her almost obsessive need to read said articles. Still she had no answer and that bothered her almost as much as the missing puzzle piece.
The door to her office opened, breaking into her thoughts. She glared as she watched her nervous second assistant move into the room, juggling a tray of coffees. She almost tripped on her heels, managing to catch herself at the last minute. She set the tray down next to Miranda. The faint scent of L.A.M.B. floated around Miranda and she closed her eyes, remembering the feel of soft, warm hands on her skin and afternoon teas in the sitting room.
“Miranda?”
Blue eyes snapped open and her glare turned deadly as she eyed the clumsy girl. “That’s all.”
That was all it took and less than two seconds later, Miranda was once again alone with her thoughts. Only they were moving faster than she could place them together. The dream and Caroline’s words from the day before about Connor and Andrea’s looks being similar and Carl Schaffer and L.A.M.B and the reading and now quiet dinners seemed to be tumbling over one another and that piece she had been missing was suddenly right before her, hurdling at her at rapid speed. All of those assistants and her acquaintances…it couldn’t be. That just didn’t make any sense. None at all. She didn’t…she hadn’t. This was ludicrous.
Only, it made perfect sense. And if it weren’t the most outlandish and outrageous thing she’d ever considered, she might actually commend her subconscious for being so clever. But what did it even mean? She remembered her father’s words about the usual answer being the simplest one, but she refused to believe that. Certainly during Andrea’s tenure with her, she’d enjoyed watching the girl blossom and had even looked forward to her having a long and fruitful career at Runway. But those feelings hadn’t extended beyond that of professional admiration. Miranda wouldn’t have ever crossed that line.
Yes, she’d grown quite fond of Andrea in the recent months, but that was to be expected. Andrea was beautiful, intelligent, fascinating, generous, patient, a loving mother and Miranda hadn’t met a child outside of her own that had captivated her quite the way Charlotte had, but that did not mean that she was attracted to Andrea in any romantic sense. Yet, even as she thought it, the image of the massage danced in her mind. Miranda shook her head. She refused to even think it. There were many things wrong with even considering it. Then she wouldn’t. Her life would continue as is. Andrea and Charlotte would soon enough be distant memories.
So, she begun her day and she almost succeeded in putting the whole thing out of her head. It wasn’t hard. Her job was all-consuming and after a morning spent in meeting after meeting, she welcomed her cleared schedule. She had mostly minor things to take care of in the office and she would be going home to have dinner with her daughters before she went to a party that night.
“Miranda, Andrea Sachs is on line one for you,” Anastasia interrupted.
She felt her heart flutter softly and growled at the traitorous organ as she answered the phone. “Andrea, I do hope this is a dire emergency. I have a magazine to run.” Her tone was cool and she knew it, but she was annoyed.
“Miranda, I’ve been calling around for an hour and no one is available. So, I finally broke down and called you. And I know you’re busy, but you’re my last hope. I wouldn’t call if that weren’t the case. I hope you know that. You know that, right? I just don’t know what else to do.” Panic was in the younger woman’s voice and it jolted something else in Miranda.
“Spare me the diatribe of desperation, Andrea. What is it that has you prostrating yourself on my phone?”
“Chuck’s sick at school.” Andrea’s cry was anguished.
“I’m not sure how that has anything to do with me,” Miranda lied. She knew exactly why the foolish girl was calling and she didn’t know whom she was more enraged with, Andrea for even asking or herself for even considering it.
“Well, the thing is, my usual babysitter, Lily, is out of town and my friend Doug is just unreachable. My only other option is my elderly neighbor, but her grandchildren are visiting and she’s out with them today. And I’m stuck here in Jersey on assignment. I’m trying to get back, but there’s a problem with the train. She’s really sick. The nurse said she threw up. So, I’m working on my options, but for right now, I really need someone to pick her up and…well…”
“And you thought that meant that it was okay to ask me to interrupt my whole day and pick up your child?” Miranda growled. Really, she hated the position Andrea was putting her in. “And then what am I supposed to do with her? Bring her back here? Runway is a business, Andrea, not a daycare.”
She could hear Andrea take a deep breath and something told her that the journalist was near tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Miranda. I shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know what I was thinking. You have no obligation to help either of us. I just thought that since…well it doesn’t really matter what I was thinking. I’ll just call the school and have them have Chuck lay down on one of the cots.”
At that, Miranda hung up. She couldn’t believe that Andrea had called her. When the girls had gotten sick at school, she’d always had their nanny or their father pick them up. What was wrong with those options? She couldn’t imagine having to depend on her friends for such a thing and she and Andrea weren’t even friends. Really, what had the girl been thinking?
Then it struck her. Andrea didn’t have those options. She was virtually alone with very few options. During their brief discussions, Andrea hadn’t mentioned Charlotte’s father more than a handful of times and always in passing. She was doing it on her own. A single mother. Miranda supposed she was a single mother too, but have never given much thought to what that all meant. She’d had the girls later in life and she’d already had a career and considerable wealth. She couldn’t imagine having to raise them alone at Andrea’s age.
Still it wasn’t her problem. She had a business to run, but the thought of Charlotte sick and small on a threadbare cot all alone caused a surge of protectiveness in her that was close to the one she had for her own children. And then she saw Andrea, first in her dream, trying to get to Miranda and then stuck in New Jersey, panicked as she waited for a train, her large eyes probably full of tears. It tugged at her. And she found herself mentally rearranging her schedule. There was no way she could leave Charlotte at school sick. She had to see to it that Andrea had reliable backups from now on. When her brain reminded her that her association with Andrea would be ending soon, she refused to acknowledge it.
“Anastasia, have Roy downstairs in five minutes. Call FAO Swartz and have them deliver a stuffed animal…a purple dragon and coloring books and crayons before I return. Go to Smith & Wollensky and pick up chicken broth and ginger ale. Then have a small desk and chair brought up from the prop department and put in my office. That’s all.”
Charlotte had been unusually quiet since they’d left her tiny, rundown school. Miranda made a mental note to ask Cassidy about the young girl’s progress. She couldn’t imagine Charlotte being forced to attend such a poor educational institution. They were probably still using last year’s textbooks. That was just unacceptable. She’d have Anastasia look into her making a sizeable donation, she thought as they made their way through the lobby of Elias-Clarke. Miranda could hear people’s gasps of surprise as she walked to the elevator, Charlotte’s tiny hand firmly in place.
Once they were alone in the elevator, Charlotte tugged at her coat. She looked down at her, arching her eyebrow over her shades. “’Randa, is my mummy coming?” She asked in a pitiful tone and Miranda’s heart ached. Her face was flushed and her usually sparkling eyes were dull. Miranda touched her head, and found that she was slightly warm. Maybe she could get some food into Charlotte and that would settle her stomach.
“She will arrive as soon as she can, Charlotte, but for now, you will spend the afternoon with me. First, we’ll have some lunch. There is a desk with coloring books and crayons waiting for you in my office. And you can sit there quietly while I work or you can lie on the couch and take a nap.”
Charlotte nodded, grasping Miranda’s hand tightly as they walked through the halls of Runway. Clackers, that normally scattered, stopped and gaped openly at the little girl at Miranda’s side. Annoyed, the editor sent glares in their direction that seemed to get them moving. Anastasia was at her side the moment she hit the inner office, pausing only briefly to look over at Charlotte before rattling off a list of things Miranda only half-listened to. She took Miranda’s coat and bag, and then gestured at Charlotte’s, but the girl backed away. Miranda glared at her assistant.
“Yes, that is acceptable. Deliver them along with the Book. That’s all.” She shut the door to her office and helped Charlotte out of her coat. She eyed the girl’s department store brand clothing and saw that even on a limited budget, Andrea had carried many of her lessons from Runway with her. She noted the bowl of soup and cup of ginger ale set up on the art desk. “Charlotte, try to eat your soup. I’m sure you’ll feel much better.”
Nodding solemnly, Charlotte moved to her seat and picked up her spoon. She took a cautious bite and Miranda watched almost anxiously for a moment before the child dug in with earnest.
Miranda sat at her desk, eating her own steak and looking over the new stack of paperwork on her desk. She was just checking over a few glossy headshots of models when Charlotte tugged at her sleeve.
“Yes, what is it Charlotte?”
Whatever the girl was about to say was lost as she leaned forward and vomited all over herself and Miranda’s shoes and stockings. She began to cry once the contents of her stomach were discarded. “I want my mummy,” she sobbed.
And at that moment, Miranda desperately wanted her present too. “Anastasia, have an outfit sent from the Closet of Runway Girls and a new pair of Jimmy Choos from the Closet. And there’s been a little mishap in my office that housekeeping needs to handle this instance.” Miranda let go of the intercom button before she reached out and stroked the still crying child’s hair.
Childish giggles coming from the corner reached the older man's ears and he turned slowly, still half listening to what she was saying. At the first sight of long dark pigtails, he bit back a gasp. "Miranda, I don't mean to alarm you, but it seems that a small child has wandered into your office."
Miranda paused, glancing briefly in the little girl's direction, before glaring at the fashion director. "Nigel, I trust you to have these things changed before tomorrow. Everything here is unusable." Miranda's tone sent shivers down his spine and yet he couldn't seem to look away from the little girl. Something drew him in. She looked...familiar.
Chuck, sensing she was at the center of someone's attention once again, looked up at him and smiled. This time the gasp escaped before he could stop it. That face. The girl skipped over to him and held out her hand. "Hi, what's your name?"
Miranda continued to comment, seeming unaware of the entire interaction as he stuttered, "N-N-Nigel..."
The girl giggled again. "That's a funny name. I'm Chuck." Nigel shook the proffered little hand in shock.
"Are you quite through?" Miranda asked impatiently. She sent the girl a look and she scurried back to her little table in the corner.
Nigel turned back to the editor and stared at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second, angrier head. "Miranda, who is that child?"
"Nigel, I realize you're getting old, but I didn't think you'd started losing your hearing as well. That is Charlotte. She just introduced herself. Now if we could get back to this layout..."
"Miranda, children don't just magically appear at your office like a Valentino. Especially children that look like...like..."
"Like whom?" Her glared dared him to say it.
"Like someone I used to know,” he finished quietly, turning back to the work in front of Miranda. “I will have this back to you first thing in the morning.”
“See that you do.” Miranda watched as he walked out. She looked over at Charlotte, who had her stuff dragon clutched at her side. After she’d finally calmed and they’d both cleaned up earlier, Miranda had gotten her to lie down and take a nap. She woke up refreshed and closer to the girl Miranda was used to. Andrea had called saying that she’d arrive back in the City soon and Miranda was relieved.
“Charlotte, the car is ready for us. Shall we go?”
They readied themselves quickly and walked through the hall. Miranda threw instructions at her assistants over her shoulder and pulled Charlotte close as they stood waiting for the elevator. They stepped inside when it arrived and Miranda slipped her shades back on.
“’Randa?”
“Yes, Charlotte?”
“Can I have sunglasses like yours someday?”
Miranda smiled, but said nothing.
Andrea was walking up the block to the townhouse when the car pulled up. Miranda could see her smile and wave at Roy before he opened the door. “Charlotte, your mother is here,” Miranda whispered with a smile, secretly reveling in the smile that lit up the young girl’s face. She scrambled out of the car, and ran over to Andrea’s waiting arms before Miranda’s new Jimmy Choos hit the pavement.
“Mummy!”
“Hey, Peanut! I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up. How are you feeling?”
“It’s okay, Mummy. ‘Randa took good care of me,” Charlotte, smiling over at the older woman as she walked over.
“She did, did she?” Andrea looked from her daughter to the editor. She smiled and Miranda felt her heart beat faster. “I can see that. Look at your new clothes. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing. There was a little accident earlier,” she explained.
“I throwed up,” Charlotte explained.
“Oh, sweetie, that’s okay. We’ll get you some pink stuff when we get home. Thank you so much, Miranda. I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise.” Andrea smiled again.
Miranda couldn’t seem to stop her reaction. Her dream came back in full force and she was almost winded. All that from one smile? She was definitely in trouble here. “I’m sure you will,” she said quietly, offering Andrea a smile of her own.
Andrea’s eyes widened and a faint blush crept across the usually pale skin of her cheeks.
“I…we need to get going.”
Not quite sure why she wasn’t ready to see the time end, but not questioning it, Miranda called behind her. “Andrea…” The journalist turned. “Would you like to join the girls and I for dinner on Saturday?”
Taken aback was the only way to describe Andrea’s expression. Then she frowned. “I wish we could, but Chuck’s father’s coming into town that day.”
“Daddy’s coming?!” Chuck asked excitedly.
Miranda was surprised by her disappointment and the sudden flare of jealousy. “Well, perhaps some other time…”
“Definitely, I’m free…most nights. So, I look forward to the rain check.”
Hope soared anew, but it did nothing to dampen her jealousy. “I’ll have Anastasia call with the details.”
“Great.” Andrea smiled before turning to walk down the street.
“Wait, Mummy! I forgot ‘Randa!” Charlotte exclaimed, running back over to the town car.
Both women looked over at her in confusion, until she emerged from the car moments later, stuffed dragon in hand.
Miranda’s insides warmed and Andrea beamed over at her before taking the little girl’s hand once again. “Bye ‘Randa!” Charlotte waved as they walked away.
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Prompt(s):From random_flores..."Love's not a competition (but I'm winning)"
Summary: Five years after Andy leaves Runway, circumstances bring our two favorite characters back together.
Disclaimer: haha...please. If I owned them, they'd so do it every chance they got.
A/N: This chapter really got away from me. A lot had to happen and it's a little longer than I anticipated, but I don't think you guys will mind too much :P. A special thanks goes to skeeter451 and mirandyscrow for helping with the dream. Thanks to inlove_n_inhate for her assistance on this chapter months ago. LOL and a huge thank you to dragonwine who does the behind the scenes work, catching my mistakes. Thanks! Now on to the story...comments are love!
Miranda sat down in her chair and flipped open the Book, her mind racing with a hundred things that would need to be changed before the end of the day. After the cops had left with Connor in cuffs, who was spewing all sorts of nasty things at her and she’d finished her argument with Caroline, she’d been too exhausted to finish going over the Book. She was still angry about Connor’s sudden appearance at her home. He’d been there all of two times while they’d been seeing each other and on both occasions she’d made sure the girls were not home. She’d made the rules clear from the very beginning and he’d ignored almost every single one of them and now she was going to have to ruin him. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He really had such a promising future in photography, but her children had been brought into the situation. And she didn’t take too kindly to people ignoring that boundary. So she pulled out her list. By lunch time, he’d be blacklisted by everyone she knew.
She picked up one of the morning papers. At least the press hadn’t caught wind of Connor’s arrest last night. That would have been a nightmare. Not that the whole ordeal hadn’t been one, she thought with a silent sigh. Still the relief that normally came when she had dodged that particular bullet didn’t come. No, something else was bothering her.
Maybe it was the strange dream she’d had the night before. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details. She’d been walking through the lobby of Elias-Clarke like she did every morning. Then somehow, she was going down the hall of Runway’s office, but instead of reaching her inner office, the hall just seemed to extend on and on. She thought perhaps there were random slices of various types of cheese lining the floor and she was sure that as she passed by one of the offices Emily was dressed in a bizarre costume and tap dancing. Suddenly it was filled with former assistants and male acquaintances. Some she had long since forgotten. At first they all cowered in fear, as per the usual. The next thing she knew, they were all laughing and pointing at her. They kept saying, “She doesn’t even know…You have no idea…” She tried to walk faster, but they just got closer and louder, grabbing at her. She thought she’d never get free. Fear and panic rose inside of her, but she couldn’t scream. She couldn’t make a sound as they all crowded around her. They seemed to grow in number with each passing second. She felt like she was drowning. Falling to her knees, she tried to claw her way out, but to no avail. She could hear someone calling out to her, shouting her name and reaching out a hand. She could barely reach the slender hand, but recognized Andrea’s voice right away.
“Just hold on, Miranda. I’m on my way!” Miranda couldn’t see her and again, she couldn’t speak. She tried even harder to get away, to fight her way towards Andrea’s voice.
A hand reached into the sea of bodies, grabbing hers and pulling her out of the mass. It was Stephen, she realized and for some odd reason, he was dressed in a chicken suit. She turned to thank him, but he began to peck at shoulder. Startled, Miranda pulled her arm away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, moving back as he advanced on her.
“Mira,” he practically purred and her stomach turned. “Didn’t you ever wonder why you didn’t care about me? You didn’t even care about the divorce.” Over the laughter and ridicule, she could still hear Andrea’s calls, but the bodies stood between them.
Affronted, Miranda pursed her lips. “I did care, Stephen. I really loved you, “she said, surprising herself by her vehemence.
That didn’t seem to stop the pecking. He moved up to her neck and her hair and the bodies seemed to be turning on them again. “Don’t lie,” he sneered. “You care for someone else.”
“What? That’s not true…” She covered her mouth in shock as she realized what he said was true.
“Oh, but it is, Mira. There’s someone else you want. It’s time you woke up!”
Shaking her head, refusing to believe him, she protested, “No, it’s not true. It can’t be.”
She could see Andrea begin to make her way through, could see her fighting off the bodies and it made her want to run towards her.
Stephen’s laugh turned evil. “WAKE UP, MIRANDA!”
That was the last thing she remembered before the blaring of her alarm clock started her awake. Miranda shook her head, feeling the anxiety and frustration from the dream begin to fill her. She was sure other things had happened in the dream, but the details were fuzzy. Stephen’s words bothered her, but why they did, she wasn’t sure. It was like being almost finished with a puzzle, but one of the pieces was missing. Only, she was pretty sure her missing piece was just out of reach.
Not wanting to dwell, she opened the paper in her hand. She frowned at the front-page story. Carl Schaffer’s byline brought a frown to her perfectly painted lips. She didn’t bother reading it. His writing was just as shallow and pretentious as the man himself. If she’d known that he was as prone to spouting right-wing propaganda and falling prey to his own falsely inflated ego as his writing implied, she would have never dated him in the first place. Thank God Andrea’s writing wasn’t nearly as crass and she’d come a long way from her earlier days at the Mirror. Over the past month, Miranda had read quite a few of Andrea’s articles and while she thought they were still a bit ambitious, she couldn’t deny the fact that the girl had a real knack for getting to the heart of a matter.
She found herself smiling at the thought and frowned. She questioned her motives, not for the first time, about her almost obsessive need to read said articles. Still she had no answer and that bothered her almost as much as the missing puzzle piece.
The door to her office opened, breaking into her thoughts. She glared as she watched her nervous second assistant move into the room, juggling a tray of coffees. She almost tripped on her heels, managing to catch herself at the last minute. She set the tray down next to Miranda. The faint scent of L.A.M.B. floated around Miranda and she closed her eyes, remembering the feel of soft, warm hands on her skin and afternoon teas in the sitting room.
“Miranda?”
Blue eyes snapped open and her glare turned deadly as she eyed the clumsy girl. “That’s all.”
That was all it took and less than two seconds later, Miranda was once again alone with her thoughts. Only they were moving faster than she could place them together. The dream and Caroline’s words from the day before about Connor and Andrea’s looks being similar and Carl Schaffer and L.A.M.B and the reading and now quiet dinners seemed to be tumbling over one another and that piece she had been missing was suddenly right before her, hurdling at her at rapid speed. All of those assistants and her acquaintances…it couldn’t be. That just didn’t make any sense. None at all. She didn’t…she hadn’t. This was ludicrous.
Only, it made perfect sense. And if it weren’t the most outlandish and outrageous thing she’d ever considered, she might actually commend her subconscious for being so clever. But what did it even mean? She remembered her father’s words about the usual answer being the simplest one, but she refused to believe that. Certainly during Andrea’s tenure with her, she’d enjoyed watching the girl blossom and had even looked forward to her having a long and fruitful career at Runway. But those feelings hadn’t extended beyond that of professional admiration. Miranda wouldn’t have ever crossed that line.
Yes, she’d grown quite fond of Andrea in the recent months, but that was to be expected. Andrea was beautiful, intelligent, fascinating, generous, patient, a loving mother and Miranda hadn’t met a child outside of her own that had captivated her quite the way Charlotte had, but that did not mean that she was attracted to Andrea in any romantic sense. Yet, even as she thought it, the image of the massage danced in her mind. Miranda shook her head. She refused to even think it. There were many things wrong with even considering it. Then she wouldn’t. Her life would continue as is. Andrea and Charlotte would soon enough be distant memories.
So, she begun her day and she almost succeeded in putting the whole thing out of her head. It wasn’t hard. Her job was all-consuming and after a morning spent in meeting after meeting, she welcomed her cleared schedule. She had mostly minor things to take care of in the office and she would be going home to have dinner with her daughters before she went to a party that night.
“Miranda, Andrea Sachs is on line one for you,” Anastasia interrupted.
She felt her heart flutter softly and growled at the traitorous organ as she answered the phone. “Andrea, I do hope this is a dire emergency. I have a magazine to run.” Her tone was cool and she knew it, but she was annoyed.
“Miranda, I’ve been calling around for an hour and no one is available. So, I finally broke down and called you. And I know you’re busy, but you’re my last hope. I wouldn’t call if that weren’t the case. I hope you know that. You know that, right? I just don’t know what else to do.” Panic was in the younger woman’s voice and it jolted something else in Miranda.
“Spare me the diatribe of desperation, Andrea. What is it that has you prostrating yourself on my phone?”
“Chuck’s sick at school.” Andrea’s cry was anguished.
“I’m not sure how that has anything to do with me,” Miranda lied. She knew exactly why the foolish girl was calling and she didn’t know whom she was more enraged with, Andrea for even asking or herself for even considering it.
“Well, the thing is, my usual babysitter, Lily, is out of town and my friend Doug is just unreachable. My only other option is my elderly neighbor, but her grandchildren are visiting and she’s out with them today. And I’m stuck here in Jersey on assignment. I’m trying to get back, but there’s a problem with the train. She’s really sick. The nurse said she threw up. So, I’m working on my options, but for right now, I really need someone to pick her up and…well…”
“And you thought that meant that it was okay to ask me to interrupt my whole day and pick up your child?” Miranda growled. Really, she hated the position Andrea was putting her in. “And then what am I supposed to do with her? Bring her back here? Runway is a business, Andrea, not a daycare.”
She could hear Andrea take a deep breath and something told her that the journalist was near tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Miranda. I shouldn’t have called you. I don’t know what I was thinking. You have no obligation to help either of us. I just thought that since…well it doesn’t really matter what I was thinking. I’ll just call the school and have them have Chuck lay down on one of the cots.”
At that, Miranda hung up. She couldn’t believe that Andrea had called her. When the girls had gotten sick at school, she’d always had their nanny or their father pick them up. What was wrong with those options? She couldn’t imagine having to depend on her friends for such a thing and she and Andrea weren’t even friends. Really, what had the girl been thinking?
Then it struck her. Andrea didn’t have those options. She was virtually alone with very few options. During their brief discussions, Andrea hadn’t mentioned Charlotte’s father more than a handful of times and always in passing. She was doing it on her own. A single mother. Miranda supposed she was a single mother too, but have never given much thought to what that all meant. She’d had the girls later in life and she’d already had a career and considerable wealth. She couldn’t imagine having to raise them alone at Andrea’s age.
Still it wasn’t her problem. She had a business to run, but the thought of Charlotte sick and small on a threadbare cot all alone caused a surge of protectiveness in her that was close to the one she had for her own children. And then she saw Andrea, first in her dream, trying to get to Miranda and then stuck in New Jersey, panicked as she waited for a train, her large eyes probably full of tears. It tugged at her. And she found herself mentally rearranging her schedule. There was no way she could leave Charlotte at school sick. She had to see to it that Andrea had reliable backups from now on. When her brain reminded her that her association with Andrea would be ending soon, she refused to acknowledge it.
“Anastasia, have Roy downstairs in five minutes. Call FAO Swartz and have them deliver a stuffed animal…a purple dragon and coloring books and crayons before I return. Go to Smith & Wollensky and pick up chicken broth and ginger ale. Then have a small desk and chair brought up from the prop department and put in my office. That’s all.”
Charlotte had been unusually quiet since they’d left her tiny, rundown school. Miranda made a mental note to ask Cassidy about the young girl’s progress. She couldn’t imagine Charlotte being forced to attend such a poor educational institution. They were probably still using last year’s textbooks. That was just unacceptable. She’d have Anastasia look into her making a sizeable donation, she thought as they made their way through the lobby of Elias-Clarke. Miranda could hear people’s gasps of surprise as she walked to the elevator, Charlotte’s tiny hand firmly in place.
Once they were alone in the elevator, Charlotte tugged at her coat. She looked down at her, arching her eyebrow over her shades. “’Randa, is my mummy coming?” She asked in a pitiful tone and Miranda’s heart ached. Her face was flushed and her usually sparkling eyes were dull. Miranda touched her head, and found that she was slightly warm. Maybe she could get some food into Charlotte and that would settle her stomach.
“She will arrive as soon as she can, Charlotte, but for now, you will spend the afternoon with me. First, we’ll have some lunch. There is a desk with coloring books and crayons waiting for you in my office. And you can sit there quietly while I work or you can lie on the couch and take a nap.”
Charlotte nodded, grasping Miranda’s hand tightly as they walked through the halls of Runway. Clackers, that normally scattered, stopped and gaped openly at the little girl at Miranda’s side. Annoyed, the editor sent glares in their direction that seemed to get them moving. Anastasia was at her side the moment she hit the inner office, pausing only briefly to look over at Charlotte before rattling off a list of things Miranda only half-listened to. She took Miranda’s coat and bag, and then gestured at Charlotte’s, but the girl backed away. Miranda glared at her assistant.
“Yes, that is acceptable. Deliver them along with the Book. That’s all.” She shut the door to her office and helped Charlotte out of her coat. She eyed the girl’s department store brand clothing and saw that even on a limited budget, Andrea had carried many of her lessons from Runway with her. She noted the bowl of soup and cup of ginger ale set up on the art desk. “Charlotte, try to eat your soup. I’m sure you’ll feel much better.”
Nodding solemnly, Charlotte moved to her seat and picked up her spoon. She took a cautious bite and Miranda watched almost anxiously for a moment before the child dug in with earnest.
Miranda sat at her desk, eating her own steak and looking over the new stack of paperwork on her desk. She was just checking over a few glossy headshots of models when Charlotte tugged at her sleeve.
“Yes, what is it Charlotte?”
Whatever the girl was about to say was lost as she leaned forward and vomited all over herself and Miranda’s shoes and stockings. She began to cry once the contents of her stomach were discarded. “I want my mummy,” she sobbed.
And at that moment, Miranda desperately wanted her present too. “Anastasia, have an outfit sent from the Closet of Runway Girls and a new pair of Jimmy Choos from the Closet. And there’s been a little mishap in my office that housekeeping needs to handle this instance.” Miranda let go of the intercom button before she reached out and stroked the still crying child’s hair.
Childish giggles coming from the corner reached the older man's ears and he turned slowly, still half listening to what she was saying. At the first sight of long dark pigtails, he bit back a gasp. "Miranda, I don't mean to alarm you, but it seems that a small child has wandered into your office."
Miranda paused, glancing briefly in the little girl's direction, before glaring at the fashion director. "Nigel, I trust you to have these things changed before tomorrow. Everything here is unusable." Miranda's tone sent shivers down his spine and yet he couldn't seem to look away from the little girl. Something drew him in. She looked...familiar.
Chuck, sensing she was at the center of someone's attention once again, looked up at him and smiled. This time the gasp escaped before he could stop it. That face. The girl skipped over to him and held out her hand. "Hi, what's your name?"
Miranda continued to comment, seeming unaware of the entire interaction as he stuttered, "N-N-Nigel..."
The girl giggled again. "That's a funny name. I'm Chuck." Nigel shook the proffered little hand in shock.
"Are you quite through?" Miranda asked impatiently. She sent the girl a look and she scurried back to her little table in the corner.
Nigel turned back to the editor and stared at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second, angrier head. "Miranda, who is that child?"
"Nigel, I realize you're getting old, but I didn't think you'd started losing your hearing as well. That is Charlotte. She just introduced herself. Now if we could get back to this layout..."
"Miranda, children don't just magically appear at your office like a Valentino. Especially children that look like...like..."
"Like whom?" Her glared dared him to say it.
"Like someone I used to know,” he finished quietly, turning back to the work in front of Miranda. “I will have this back to you first thing in the morning.”
“See that you do.” Miranda watched as he walked out. She looked over at Charlotte, who had her stuff dragon clutched at her side. After she’d finally calmed and they’d both cleaned up earlier, Miranda had gotten her to lie down and take a nap. She woke up refreshed and closer to the girl Miranda was used to. Andrea had called saying that she’d arrive back in the City soon and Miranda was relieved.
“Charlotte, the car is ready for us. Shall we go?”
They readied themselves quickly and walked through the hall. Miranda threw instructions at her assistants over her shoulder and pulled Charlotte close as they stood waiting for the elevator. They stepped inside when it arrived and Miranda slipped her shades back on.
“’Randa?”
“Yes, Charlotte?”
“Can I have sunglasses like yours someday?”
Miranda smiled, but said nothing.
Andrea was walking up the block to the townhouse when the car pulled up. Miranda could see her smile and wave at Roy before he opened the door. “Charlotte, your mother is here,” Miranda whispered with a smile, secretly reveling in the smile that lit up the young girl’s face. She scrambled out of the car, and ran over to Andrea’s waiting arms before Miranda’s new Jimmy Choos hit the pavement.
“Mummy!”
“Hey, Peanut! I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up. How are you feeling?”
“It’s okay, Mummy. ‘Randa took good care of me,” Charlotte, smiling over at the older woman as she walked over.
“She did, did she?” Andrea looked from her daughter to the editor. She smiled and Miranda felt her heart beat faster. “I can see that. Look at your new clothes. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing. There was a little accident earlier,” she explained.
“I throwed up,” Charlotte explained.
“Oh, sweetie, that’s okay. We’ll get you some pink stuff when we get home. Thank you so much, Miranda. I’ll find a way to repay you, I promise.” Andrea smiled again.
Miranda couldn’t seem to stop her reaction. Her dream came back in full force and she was almost winded. All that from one smile? She was definitely in trouble here. “I’m sure you will,” she said quietly, offering Andrea a smile of her own.
Andrea’s eyes widened and a faint blush crept across the usually pale skin of her cheeks.
“I…we need to get going.”
Not quite sure why she wasn’t ready to see the time end, but not questioning it, Miranda called behind her. “Andrea…” The journalist turned. “Would you like to join the girls and I for dinner on Saturday?”
Taken aback was the only way to describe Andrea’s expression. Then she frowned. “I wish we could, but Chuck’s father’s coming into town that day.”
“Daddy’s coming?!” Chuck asked excitedly.
Miranda was surprised by her disappointment and the sudden flare of jealousy. “Well, perhaps some other time…”
“Definitely, I’m free…most nights. So, I look forward to the rain check.”
Hope soared anew, but it did nothing to dampen her jealousy. “I’ll have Anastasia call with the details.”
“Great.” Andrea smiled before turning to walk down the street.
“Wait, Mummy! I forgot ‘Randa!” Charlotte exclaimed, running back over to the town car.
Both women looked over at her in confusion, until she emerged from the car moments later, stuffed dragon in hand.
Miranda’s insides warmed and Andrea beamed over at her before taking the little girl’s hand once again. “Bye ‘Randa!” Charlotte waved as they walked away.