Life has been a bit, well, distracting for many months (lesbian divorce, sold home, quit job, off to Scotland for grad school). All is settling down now, so I am at last able to make final edits to this story I've been puttering about during the previously mentioned events. Well, actually only some writing and much more in the way of editing/fine-tuning. Of course, just saw 'The September Issue' which had me altering and enhancing Cora (based loosely on Grace Coddington) now that I've gotten a better idea of her personality…This story is best read after 'Mistletoe' as it follows the same events, but from Miranda's POV. Please read and let me know what you think. I appreciate feedback about what can be improved, what is/was completely unbelievable, what's over-edited, etc.
Post-Andrea: Week One
Miranda felt the world closing in around her. Her hearing became muted, and her vision blurry. She paused on the top step to that afternoon's event midway through Paris' Fashion Week.
'Where was Andrea?' Her chest tightened, and she felt hot, the air pressing down. A flash went off in her face.
The blinding light snapped on a switch in her head. She closed her mouth, willed herself not to gulp for air. She pursed her lips as both a way to regain control over her own body and as a way to slow her respirations, taking in nostrils full of air, nares flaring.
With a turn on her heel, Miranda focused on making it inside the building, her eyes searching for Nigel in the throng around her.
"Miranda, so glad you could make it," one of the presenters air-kissed the fashion goddess as he led her to a seat in the front row. He looked vacantly around her, then seemed to realize that there was no assistant and schooled his expression.
"What might we get for you?" His voice was soft, buttery. Miranda despised the fact that she was surrounded by hordes of spineless people incapable of thinking for themselves. She held back a dry heave, and again concentrated on her breathing.
"Pellegrino," she bit out.
"Most assuredly." His small, slender form slid through the mass of attendees, disappearing from sight. Miranda opened her clutch and stared at her Blackberry again.
'Should I try to call her again?' The question was rhetorical, as she had already pressed the quick-dial button for Andrea.
When the phone rang three times without answer, Miranda hung up and stared blankly at the phone while determining her next move.
"Miranda. I thought I saw Andy crossing Trocadero Plaza…" Nigel trailed off when Miranda turned her head towards him and dropped her sunglasses just enough to give the harshest glare she could muster. It was nowhere near the usual 'Death Star' level, and she knew it—so did he.
Silently, he made a motion to sit next to her, unsure if it was safe to sit in his usual position by her side, considering the current situation.
When the young man returned with a glass of bubbling Pellegrino, Miranda took one sip, then handed the goblet to Nigel. He calmly held it in one hand during the show, scribbling notes with the other on the pad resting on his crossed legs. Miranda was glad that he was there, as she had difficulty focusing her attention. The show that afternoon centered on several designers who clearly should have been scheduled for the Prêt-A-Porte' (Ready-to-Wear) show later in the year. She adjusted her sunglasses a couple of times, attempting not to notice Nigel looking askance at her each time. She was painfully aware that he was concerned she would burst into either tears or flames. She did neither.
When the show was complete, she sidestepped by designers, models, and general leaches, finding a semi-secluded spot near a ghastly fern-like potted tree. She rang Emily back in New York and verified her schedule for the rest of the day. It was evident that the young woman was curious as to why she was being summoned for this information. As Miranda never explained herself, however, Emily pushed her inner questions down.
"I will be calling you again in a few hours with further instructions. That's all." Smashing the 'end call' key on her phone, Miranda mentally ran through her dilemma. She desperately wanted to either hunt down Andrea or to hide away in her suite the rest of the evening.
"Miranda. We have to go mingle."
"Do not manage me, Nigel. I know what I need to do. This week will go down in my life as a true test. The designers are uninspired, the paparazzi bland in their queries and interest, and…well, with Andrea gone, that leaves Emily. And that's just Runway. I cannot imagine this week getting any worse."
Nigel nodded once. They had worked together for over 9 years, Nigel able to read her better than anyone. Well, up until Andrea. Andrea was almost psychic. Her throat closed at that thought, and she forced herself to swallow down the lump. She was all too aware that after Irv's failed attempt at ousting her, she could not escape any of her already scheduled appearances during the remaining two days.
Miranda focused her attention as best possible and moved among the post-show crowds, smiling and nodding when appropriate. The small talk and making-nice was going to be the death of her.
That evening, after she made her usual 15-minute appearance at three different parties, she made another call to Emily.
"Emily, once Andrea has returned to New York, cancel her company card. Do not do so until she is back in New York. No sooner, no later."
"What? When is she-"
Miranda cut her off, "Also, let HR know to start filtering applications for two new assistants. Your term is coming up in several months. London Runway has a position opening in late September, directly after London's Spring Fashion Week. I expect you to accept the offer when it is made. This should give you more than ample time to ensure replacement assistants are well prepared. Verify that I am scheduled to meet with Leslie when I return, and remind Jennifer to have the twins at home when I get there this weekend." She paused, uncharacteristically, working through her mental 'to-do' list to ensure that she hadn't missed anything of import. This was difficult as she fought down a desire to obsess over Andrea deserting her.
"Why-"
"Emily. That's all." She sighed before hanging up. Emily slowly hung up the phone on her end as well, dumbfounded. Serena took that moment to pop over and cleared her throat, expectantly.
"What was that?"
"Bollocks!" Emily slammed her fists down on her desktop and then kicked the desk from underneath with her cast for emphasis, wincing.
"That COW. I know Miranda should never have hired her." Emily scowled up at Serena, then brightened. "On the other hand, I'm returning to London this autumn."
Miranda could not believe how slowly the duration of Fashion Week went by. Those two days were longer than she could cope with. She was glad that the other autumn/winter fashion shows in New York, London, and Milan were already behind her. It was taking every last fiber of her being to get through the false cheerfulness required of her at these insipid events, and she was going to need to spend more time at home for the next few months -- her daughters would be an increasing priority now that the press would be ranting over this latest divorce.
She sat in Charles De Gaulle airport early Saturday morning, thumbing through a pile of notes that she and Nigel had compiled during the week, trying not to rip someone's head off over the flight delay. Finally, a voice announced overhead that the plane would begin boarding in a few minutes. Pulling her Blackberry out to check for any last minute messages before flipping it into flight safety mode, her eyes widened at a short message from Emily.
It seemed that the New York Mirror had called, wanting to verify Andrea's employment and terms of departure. The girl hadn't even been gone a week and had already applied to work elsewhere.
"Bloody hell." She hissed, the British accent of her youth coming through in her anger. She threw the phone across the floor, temporarily satisfied by the sight and sound of it breaking into a multitude of uneven bits of plastic and metal. In fact, she allowed herself the smallest of smiles at the small joy this gave her. No one from her staff moved or said a word. After a short pause, Nigel went over to the nearby ticket counter and caught the attention of one of the irritable boarding agents. Moments later, a housekeeper scurried over and swept up the remains.
The flight itself was thankfully uneventful. Miranda tapped away on her laptop, working on an outline of what she wanted to talk about with her daughters and also with Leslie regarding the divorce. As neither of those tasks took long, she contemplated what she would do about the Mirror's request. After some contemplation, she finally settled on a short missive regarding Andrea. It was difficult to fight her irritation over the whole situation:
"During my tenure as Editor-In-Chief, I have seen a variety of assistants come and go, some holding more promise than others. Of all the assistants I have hired, Andrea Sachs was, by far, my biggest disappointment. She possessed a work ethic and the highest caliber of performance in her duties – then departed Runway to pursue her literary desires – thus throwing away a promising career in fashion. That said, if you don't hire her, you are, honestly, an idiot."
After landing at La Guardia, Miranda had Ted stop temporarily at the office. Dropping a satchel full of Fashion items in a niche of her office, she then signed onto her office laptop briefly. A few moments later, she had print off the note for the Mirror along with her schedule for Monday. It took only a moment to get the note faxed off and the piece of paper it was print on run through the shredder. From there, she went home to see her daughters and catch up on some much needed sleep.
The girls took the news about Stephen rather well, all things considered. She explained to her daughters that she would be home in time for dinner four days a week and told Jennifer, the girls' current nanny, about the proposed change in work schedule. She was tempted to break said nanny's neck when the young woman practically jumped for joy at the idea of getting off by 7pm most weeknights.
The remainder of the weekend was spent coordinating for the master bedroom and family room to be redecorated post-Stephen, meeting with her tax attorney, and taking the girls to the Children's Museum in Manhattan. It was not lost on Miranda that Andrea had coordinated for the Children's Museum trip when Miranda had mentioned a couple of weeks ago (somewhat suggestively) that she'd heard it was due to reopen (post-renovations) soon.
By getting the fax off about Andrea, and redoing the house post-Stephen, she hoped to have washed her hands clean of both.
Miranda should have known that one of the two individuals had begun infecting her thoughts to a degree that, like a parasite, would continue to distract and confuse her in myriad ways.
Please let me know what you think (submit review). How did the chapter flow? Were the peeps in character? Did I suspend reality too much at any point? Thanking you in advance.