Meeting Vivian - Chapter 2 - Nigel
See Chapter 1 for notes and disclaimers
Chapter 2 - Nigel
1986
Nigel hurried to catch up to Miranda’s striding form. She had breezed into his office minutes before and demanded that he follow her. Without further explanation Miranda turned on her heel and stalked out heading towards the back hallway and the freight elevator. He shook his head as he rushed. ‘Never a dull moment,’ he thought. Once they were ensconced in the elevator car Nigel ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair as he wondered what was going on.
Miranda stared at the dull metal doors as they slowly descended. “Not long ago I met someone. It’s time I introduce you.” She adjusted her necklace as she considered what she could say to prepare her friend. “She’s a little different.” Miranda straightened her jacket as she bit her lip.
“Okay?” Still clueless, Nigel’s eyes were drawn to the display counting down the floors. He was surprised when they stopped at the thirteenth floor.
Once again Nigel had to hurry to keep pace with Miranda. He barely had time to notice the dark, dusty corridor lit by emergency lights before passing through a large open area that was equally dim and dirty. When Miranda paused he almost ran into the woman. They were standing outside of a brightly lit office. “How strange,” he murmured.
Miranda glanced at Nigel gesturing for him to follow. She glided to a stop in front of a glass-topped desk and waited.
Nigel’s mouth dropped open as he took in the bright airy office. He was admiring the view from the window behind the desk when a petite woman with gunmetal grey hair winked into existence.
The woman crossed her arms and whispered, “Boo.” She smirked at the high-pitched scream and the sight of the fashionably dressed man running from her office.
“What are you? Twelve?” Miranda rolled her eyes.
“I was just having a bit of fun.” Vivian pouted.
Miranda rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’ll bring him back.” She pointed a finger and glared at the ghost. “Be nice!” She turned and went after her Art Director.
She found Nigel leaning against the wall frantically pushing the call button for the freight elevator. Miranda pursed her lips and tried to decide how to make amends to her only friend. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I did tell you she was different.”
Nigel whirled around. “Different? Miranda, different is orange hair, a questionable taste in fashion, or having an armadillo as a pet!” He fluttered his hand towards the hall. “A ghost or, or spirit is a great deal more than DIFFERENT!”
Miranda threw her hands in the air. “I didn’t know what to say! I suppose I could have started off with Nigel Kipling I would like to introduce you to Vivian Martine, former Editor in Chief of Runway magazine. By the way, she’s dead!”
Nigel slapped his hand over his mouth. He knew that name. In fact, he should have recognized the woman. Her picture, like those of the previous Editors in Chief, was hanging on a wall in Runway’s lobby.
Glaring at her friend, Miranda started pacing back and forth before turning towards Nigel. “Linda Compton told me about Vivian a few weeks ago. I didn’t believe her but I was curious, so I came down here.” Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
“Linda, the copy editor who is retiring?” Nigel rubbed his chin and watched his friend.
“Yes. She’s been visiting Vivian for years. With her retirement she worried that Vivian would become lonely.” Miranda shrugged one shoulder and stared at the floor.
“So she asked you to do what? Ghost sit?” Nigel moved next to Miranda and leaned against the wall with her, shoulder to shoulder.
“She just asked that I deliver a copy of the magazine each month.” Miranda played with her necklace. “Vivian’s a fascinating woman. She accomplished what I have hopes of doing.” At Nigel’s curious look, she continued. “She was able to turn a failing magazine into a success. When Vivian became Editor in Chief no one believed that Runway could be saved.”
Nigel nodded slowly. “Much like now. You were brought in as a last chance for Runway.”
“Yes.” Miranda sighed. “I’ve come to enjoy talking to her. I appreciate her insight.” She nudged Nigel’s shoulder. “You’ve become a good friend but …”
Nigel gave Miranda a small smile. “But there are some things I just cannot understand in the same way that Vivian can.” When Miranda nodded Nigel took a deep breath. “Fine, let’s go back and you can properly introduce us.”
They started back down the hallway. “If she says ‘boo’ again, I’m out of here,” Nigel muttered darkly.
***
Vivian was staring out the window when Nigel tapped on the door to her office. Turning, she smiled at her visitor. “Hello, Nigel. Come in.”
Nigel waved the latest issue of Runway as he entered the office. “Miranda is out of town and asked that I drop this off.” He placed the magazine on the glass-topped desk.
“Thank you. Please, sit down.” Vivian relaxed back against the windowsill. “How have you been? I was just thinking back to our first meeting.”
Shaking his head, Nigel gave her a wry grin. “I’m fine, thank you. That was a memorable first impression. How did Miranda react the first time? Did she scream and run like a little girl?” Nigel sat in one of the chairs in front of Vivian’s desk. He crossed his legs and brushed some dust off his trousers. For the last six months he made a habit of visiting Vivian at least once a week. They chatted about photo shoots, layouts, and Runway business.
“Oh, no,” Vivian answered blithely.
“The bitch.” Nigel huffed as he folded his arms across his chest and glared at his feet.
“Well, she did go pale and clutch the back of the chair you’re sitting in. My guess is that she barely kept from fainting.” Vivian smirked as she remembered the meeting.
“Really?” Nigel uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter. “Considering this is Miranda we’re discussing that is a major reaction.”
Vivian chuckled as she returned to her desk and sat down. “She does seem to take self control to a whole new level.”
Nigel nodded. “You have no idea. The papers have started to refer to her as Ice Queen.” He frowned as he stared into space. “It’s a shame really. We go out occasionally and she is very careful of the image she projects. I have never seen her just cut loose and have fun.”
Shrugging, the former editor pulled the magazine closer. “It can be an unfortunate consequence of being a business woman in a man’s world.” Vivian sighed. “Miranda is fortunate to have you as a colleague and friend. I spent most of my career driving people away.” She lowered her head and started to page though the magazine.
“Vivian?” Nigel leaned forward in his seat. “After our first meeting, I did a little research.” He waited for the ghost to look up. “A friend of mine works at the Times. He gave me copies of the newspaper articles covering your funeral.” Nigel watched as Vivian stood and moved towards the windows.
“Linda told me it was a beautiful service. Before she could say anything else, I cut her off.” She turned and looked out the window. “I was very angry and didn’t want to hear about a beautiful service in an empty church.”
Nigel eased out of his chair and joined Vivian at the window. “The church was far from empty. The newspaper accounts said that hundreds paid their respects. The articles painted a picture of a caring, hardworking woman.” When Vivian shot him a disbelieving look, he nodded.
“They interviewed your sister. She told them that although you were busy, you always had time for her. You were with her when her son was born because her husband was stationed in Hawaii and wasn’t able to come home on leave.” Nigel gestured to Vivian’s dress. “She said that this was your favorite dress and that you treasured those pearls because they were a gift from your father.”
Vivian turned and stared out of the window. “My sister was always generous.”
Nigel mirrored her pose. “Be that as it may, several designers were also interviewed. They told stories of how you encouraged them and helped their careers. Many said they owed their success to you.” It started raining outside and Nigel traced the drops as they ran down the glass. “Runway offices were closed for the day of the funeral. Several Runway employees said you were only as hard on them as you were on yourself. More than a few of your former employees went on to have distinguished careers in publishing. Again, they said they owed it all to you.”
After several minutes of silence, Nigel whispered his goodbyes and turned to leave. Before he exited the office he heard a quiet thank you.
Three days later Vivian popped into her office. She and the models had been re-creating a particularly interesting photo shoot. She was surprised to find a folder centered in the middle of her desk. As soon as she opened the folder she dropped into her chair. There were copies of newspaper articles covering her funeral and her obituary. The interviews with her sister, designers, and colleagues were just as Nigel described. If she had been able to cry, the papers would have been soaked with her tears. One article reported on a generous donation made in Vivian’s name to the Fashion Institute of Technology. Elias-Clarke Publishing stated that this would be an annual donation.
Finally, the last items in the folder were two color photographs. The first was a picture of two gray granite headstones decorated with fresh flowers. The larger monument was carved with the names Charles and Laura Martine and the dates of their births and deaths. The second was inscribed Vivian Martine, Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Mentor. A second photo showed the back of the headstone. It was inscribed Editor-In-Chief, Runway Magazine, July 1947 - October 1963. A post-it note was stuck to the corner of the picture - You made a difference. In fact, you still do. N.
Chapter 3 - Emily
Chapter 2 - Nigel
1986
Nigel hurried to catch up to Miranda’s striding form. She had breezed into his office minutes before and demanded that he follow her. Without further explanation Miranda turned on her heel and stalked out heading towards the back hallway and the freight elevator. He shook his head as he rushed. ‘Never a dull moment,’ he thought. Once they were ensconced in the elevator car Nigel ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair as he wondered what was going on.
Miranda stared at the dull metal doors as they slowly descended. “Not long ago I met someone. It’s time I introduce you.” She adjusted her necklace as she considered what she could say to prepare her friend. “She’s a little different.” Miranda straightened her jacket as she bit her lip.
“Okay?” Still clueless, Nigel’s eyes were drawn to the display counting down the floors. He was surprised when they stopped at the thirteenth floor.
Once again Nigel had to hurry to keep pace with Miranda. He barely had time to notice the dark, dusty corridor lit by emergency lights before passing through a large open area that was equally dim and dirty. When Miranda paused he almost ran into the woman. They were standing outside of a brightly lit office. “How strange,” he murmured.
Miranda glanced at Nigel gesturing for him to follow. She glided to a stop in front of a glass-topped desk and waited.
Nigel’s mouth dropped open as he took in the bright airy office. He was admiring the view from the window behind the desk when a petite woman with gunmetal grey hair winked into existence.
The woman crossed her arms and whispered, “Boo.” She smirked at the high-pitched scream and the sight of the fashionably dressed man running from her office.
“What are you? Twelve?” Miranda rolled her eyes.
“I was just having a bit of fun.” Vivian pouted.
Miranda rubbed her forehead and sighed. “I’ll bring him back.” She pointed a finger and glared at the ghost. “Be nice!” She turned and went after her Art Director.
She found Nigel leaning against the wall frantically pushing the call button for the freight elevator. Miranda pursed her lips and tried to decide how to make amends to her only friend. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I did tell you she was different.”
Nigel whirled around. “Different? Miranda, different is orange hair, a questionable taste in fashion, or having an armadillo as a pet!” He fluttered his hand towards the hall. “A ghost or, or spirit is a great deal more than DIFFERENT!”
Miranda threw her hands in the air. “I didn’t know what to say! I suppose I could have started off with Nigel Kipling I would like to introduce you to Vivian Martine, former Editor in Chief of Runway magazine. By the way, she’s dead!”
Nigel slapped his hand over his mouth. He knew that name. In fact, he should have recognized the woman. Her picture, like those of the previous Editors in Chief, was hanging on a wall in Runway’s lobby.
Glaring at her friend, Miranda started pacing back and forth before turning towards Nigel. “Linda Compton told me about Vivian a few weeks ago. I didn’t believe her but I was curious, so I came down here.” Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
“Linda, the copy editor who is retiring?” Nigel rubbed his chin and watched his friend.
“Yes. She’s been visiting Vivian for years. With her retirement she worried that Vivian would become lonely.” Miranda shrugged one shoulder and stared at the floor.
“So she asked you to do what? Ghost sit?” Nigel moved next to Miranda and leaned against the wall with her, shoulder to shoulder.
“She just asked that I deliver a copy of the magazine each month.” Miranda played with her necklace. “Vivian’s a fascinating woman. She accomplished what I have hopes of doing.” At Nigel’s curious look, she continued. “She was able to turn a failing magazine into a success. When Vivian became Editor in Chief no one believed that Runway could be saved.”
Nigel nodded slowly. “Much like now. You were brought in as a last chance for Runway.”
“Yes.” Miranda sighed. “I’ve come to enjoy talking to her. I appreciate her insight.” She nudged Nigel’s shoulder. “You’ve become a good friend but …”
Nigel gave Miranda a small smile. “But there are some things I just cannot understand in the same way that Vivian can.” When Miranda nodded Nigel took a deep breath. “Fine, let’s go back and you can properly introduce us.”
They started back down the hallway. “If she says ‘boo’ again, I’m out of here,” Nigel muttered darkly.
***
Vivian was staring out the window when Nigel tapped on the door to her office. Turning, she smiled at her visitor. “Hello, Nigel. Come in.”
Nigel waved the latest issue of Runway as he entered the office. “Miranda is out of town and asked that I drop this off.” He placed the magazine on the glass-topped desk.
“Thank you. Please, sit down.” Vivian relaxed back against the windowsill. “How have you been? I was just thinking back to our first meeting.”
Shaking his head, Nigel gave her a wry grin. “I’m fine, thank you. That was a memorable first impression. How did Miranda react the first time? Did she scream and run like a little girl?” Nigel sat in one of the chairs in front of Vivian’s desk. He crossed his legs and brushed some dust off his trousers. For the last six months he made a habit of visiting Vivian at least once a week. They chatted about photo shoots, layouts, and Runway business.
“Oh, no,” Vivian answered blithely.
“The bitch.” Nigel huffed as he folded his arms across his chest and glared at his feet.
“Well, she did go pale and clutch the back of the chair you’re sitting in. My guess is that she barely kept from fainting.” Vivian smirked as she remembered the meeting.
“Really?” Nigel uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter. “Considering this is Miranda we’re discussing that is a major reaction.”
Vivian chuckled as she returned to her desk and sat down. “She does seem to take self control to a whole new level.”
Nigel nodded. “You have no idea. The papers have started to refer to her as Ice Queen.” He frowned as he stared into space. “It’s a shame really. We go out occasionally and she is very careful of the image she projects. I have never seen her just cut loose and have fun.”
Shrugging, the former editor pulled the magazine closer. “It can be an unfortunate consequence of being a business woman in a man’s world.” Vivian sighed. “Miranda is fortunate to have you as a colleague and friend. I spent most of my career driving people away.” She lowered her head and started to page though the magazine.
“Vivian?” Nigel leaned forward in his seat. “After our first meeting, I did a little research.” He waited for the ghost to look up. “A friend of mine works at the Times. He gave me copies of the newspaper articles covering your funeral.” Nigel watched as Vivian stood and moved towards the windows.
“Linda told me it was a beautiful service. Before she could say anything else, I cut her off.” She turned and looked out the window. “I was very angry and didn’t want to hear about a beautiful service in an empty church.”
Nigel eased out of his chair and joined Vivian at the window. “The church was far from empty. The newspaper accounts said that hundreds paid their respects. The articles painted a picture of a caring, hardworking woman.” When Vivian shot him a disbelieving look, he nodded.
“They interviewed your sister. She told them that although you were busy, you always had time for her. You were with her when her son was born because her husband was stationed in Hawaii and wasn’t able to come home on leave.” Nigel gestured to Vivian’s dress. “She said that this was your favorite dress and that you treasured those pearls because they were a gift from your father.”
Vivian turned and stared out of the window. “My sister was always generous.”
Nigel mirrored her pose. “Be that as it may, several designers were also interviewed. They told stories of how you encouraged them and helped their careers. Many said they owed their success to you.” It started raining outside and Nigel traced the drops as they ran down the glass. “Runway offices were closed for the day of the funeral. Several Runway employees said you were only as hard on them as you were on yourself. More than a few of your former employees went on to have distinguished careers in publishing. Again, they said they owed it all to you.”
After several minutes of silence, Nigel whispered his goodbyes and turned to leave. Before he exited the office he heard a quiet thank you.
Three days later Vivian popped into her office. She and the models had been re-creating a particularly interesting photo shoot. She was surprised to find a folder centered in the middle of her desk. As soon as she opened the folder she dropped into her chair. There were copies of newspaper articles covering her funeral and her obituary. The interviews with her sister, designers, and colleagues were just as Nigel described. If she had been able to cry, the papers would have been soaked with her tears. One article reported on a generous donation made in Vivian’s name to the Fashion Institute of Technology. Elias-Clarke Publishing stated that this would be an annual donation.
Finally, the last items in the folder were two color photographs. The first was a picture of two gray granite headstones decorated with fresh flowers. The larger monument was carved with the names Charles and Laura Martine and the dates of their births and deaths. The second was inscribed Vivian Martine, Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Mentor. A second photo showed the back of the headstone. It was inscribed Editor-In-Chief, Runway Magazine, July 1947 - October 1963. A post-it note was stuck to the corner of the picture - You made a difference. In fact, you still do. N.
Chapter 3 - Emily