FIC: 1 + 1 = Window [the devil wears prada, caroline, cassidy] 2 of 3
Here's Part One.
As Mum’s assistants went, there was a complex ranking system. The twins liked Rachel better than Emily and Emily better than Sarah and Andrea better than anybody. What they liked most about Andrea was her potential - she was new and didn’t know all their tricks yet. They started waiting up for her to deliver the book.
One time it was paper airplanes down the staircase (she picked them up and took them with her when she left). Another time they floated their dolls down on parachutes of Kleenex (she placed those on the table). Once they left her a cookie, the hard-won prize of a covert journey to the kitchen, fraught with creaking steps and Stephen’s slippers, which they had tripped over, both on the way there and the way back. Andrea scraped the icing off with her teeth, just the same way they would have done.
She was the best kind of pet - long legged and lipsticked and exotic. Best of all, she was smarter than any of the assistants who had come before. She clacked her way to the door, only to take off her heels and sashay back into the foyer on stocking feet to glare at them. She wasn’t fooled by puddles of baby oil on the marble floor or toothpaste on the doorknob. The one time they switched all the tabletop flowers arrangements around, she noticed and switched them back, twice as fast. And before she left, she always gave them a little wave and salute.
Yes, they liked Andrea best.
The second time either of them actually talked to Andrea, Caroline was home sick by herself (skipping a French test - it wasn’t her fault Top Model was on the night before, so Cass could go shove her goody-goody face somewhere else). She was supposed to be in bed, but this particular Nanny (also not familiar with Mary Poppins, but the twins didn’t really expect her to be, not anymore) was fond of daytime soaps. She watched them extra-loud on the downstairs TV and was a little deaf besides.
Caroline had just finished painting her toes sky-blue and was in the kitchen considering whether or not it was alright to eat a muffin (it was neither a Friday nor a Tuesday, but she had run extra laps in the gym yesterday) when Andrea tripped in the front door, Patricia in tow. It was five minutes into the game of Andrea reaching for Patricia’s leash and Patricia darting away before either of them noticed Caroline standing in the entryway, toes spread so as not to disturb the polish.
“Hi,” said Andrea, out of breath. “Can you help me-” She gestured to Patricia, who was ascending the staircase two steps at a time, leash trailing behind her.
Caroline thought about it. On the one hand, Andrea was wide-eyed and panicky and earnest and just begging to be pranked. On the other, she scraped icing off cookies with her teeth. It was a dilemma.
Caroline sighed, and whistled for Patricia who came right over, grinning her doggy grin. Andrea shifted her weight from stiletto to stiletto as Caroline unclipped the lead.
“Thanks,” she said. Caroline considered her from this newer, closer range. She was prettier than previously supposed, and Cass was right about the brown eyes.
“Would you like me to paint your toenails?” Caroline asked politely. It seemed like an appropriate peace-gesture. Plus she wanted to try out the new purple glitter-polish from Megan’s birthday party.
“Oh.” Andrea blew her bangs out of her face. She looked nervous. “Um, I kind of have to go back to work.”
“I’ll be really quick.” Caroline thought for a moment. “And I’ll tell Mum you kicked Patricia if you don’t.” She took Andrea’s hand and pulled. “Come on.”
“I really can’t be late,” said Andrea, but she came along anyways so Caroline didn’t pay much attention. She stood Andrea in the middle of the kitchen and then ran to go get the purple polish. When she came back Andrea was still there, being accosted by a wagging Patricia. Which was good; Caroline hadn’t wanted to have to have her fired.
“Sit on the countertop,” Caroline told her, and then paused. Oh yeah. “Please.” Andrea sat. “Take off your shoes.” Andrea kicked them off. “Hold still.” Andrea held. “Okay, now…”
All in all, it went pretty well. Caroline only got a little bit of polish on Andrea’s toes and Patricia licked off just the one coat (certainly not the bottle-and-a-half Andrea was making it out to be). Caroline sat back, pleased with herself.
“I really have to go now,” said Andrea, sliding down off the counter. Then she paused, looking panicked. “If I put on my shoes now I’ll ruin them.”
“Don’t worry,” Caroline screwed the top back onto the bottle. “S’Quickdry.”
So Andrea and Caroline stood by the door for five minutes, waiting. (The bottle said three, but Andrea had wanted to be extra-sure. The shoes were Bottega.) Caroline thought the purple polish looked very nice on Andrea indeed. And it was just the very little bit streaky.
“Come back soon,” Caroline told Andrea as she was slipping on her shoes. When Andrea looked up, mouth open to protest, Caroline said, “Wasn’t a question,” and raised an eyebrow the way Mum did when she wanted to end a conversation.
Andrea paused, and cocked her head at Caroline, bemused.
Then she smiled.
They planned it very carefully, down to letter. There was a system: seven o’clock was good but seven-thirty was better - enough time passed since dinner, enough time until the Book was due to arrive.
“Now?” asked Cass, hovering in the doorway. Caroline was in the armchair, eyes trained on the clock.
“Not quite.”
“Now?”
“Almost…” The digital readout changed from 7:29 to 7:30. “Okay, now!”
When they got to the door of the study, they paused; there was always the chance of being shutdown before you even began. They sent an unwilling Patricia in ahead of them as a mood tester: two pats; good, belly-scratch; very good, no physical contact; bad, no acknowledgement; very bad.
Three pats. The twins exchanged a glance.
“Mum,” said Caroline solicitously as she dropped down on the couch, “how’re the preparations for Paris going?” Cass assumed a position on the floor, close enough to use Patricia as a prop if need be. (It helped to have something to do with your hands.)
“Terribly, not that either of you care.” Miranda peered over her glasses at them. “What do you want?”
Cass reached for Patricia as Caroline dropped all pretences and sat up. “You’re not going to fire Andrea Sachs, are you?” Caroline asked.
This was a distinct possibility that had been weighing heavily on the twins minds lately; Mum’s employees didn’t tend to last long and they had grown to quite like Andrea. They had the vague notion that if things didn’t work out at Runway, she could always come and stay on with them. Possibly as a cook. Or maid.
“Not today.” Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”
Cass picked up the dialogue, “Because we’d just like to know, um, ahead of time, if you’re planning to or-”
“Is she a good worker?” Caroline cut in. Cass went back to petting Patricia.
“Good enough.” Miranda took off her glasses and gave them a level look. “Why the sudden interest in Andrea Sachs?”
“No reason.” The twins looked at each other - time for a little diversionary tactic.
“She’s just-”
“-so much friendlier than -”
“-Emily ever was, and-”
“-we were just hoping -”
“-that she’d… stick around a little longer.”
“I think,” said Miranda, smiling her tiny half-smile, “that there is a distinct possibly of Andrea Sachs ‘sticking around’ for awhile.”
The twins decided to cut and run then, Andrea’s job not being in any apparent danger. (Which was good, because they weren’t exactly sure of her cooking or cleaning abilities. Sure, she could re-arrange flowers pretty fast, but that only took one so far in life.)
“‘Stick around a little longer?’” Caroline elbowed Cass on the way back upstairs. “I have to ask; does your brain just stop sometimes?”
“Didn’t see you doing any better. ‘Friendlier?’ Seriously?”
“Well, you weren’t giving me much to work with,” Caroline huffed.
“Never mind. Just matters that Andrea,” Cass was careful to pronounce it the way Mum did, dragging out the second syllable, “isn’t gonna be sacked.”
“Yeah, see, I told you, but you didn’t listen. Mum likes her.”
“Well you’re the one who thought Mum liked that interior decorator, and just look how that turned out…”
The argument continued all the way back to the bedroom.
If Cass had been telling this story, she probably would’ve ended it here.
She might’ve added in a wedding too, just for good measure.
Part the Third