Trice.

That afternoon the girls had begged her to accompany them to the Metropolitan museum. They were writing a report on history of sculpture and needed her input. In all honesty, Miranda thought that their current au pair, fresh from Sorbonne with her degree in arts, would do. Besides, she didn't have much time to spare before the long vacation. But the girls insisted that it wasn't going to take more than an hour, and she gave in.

Blissfully, the holiday season hadn't really started yet, and the museum still looked like a museum and didn't resemble the Grand Central in a rush hour. Not that Miranda herself had been to the Grand Central in the last fifteen years, but people talked.

The girls dragged her through the ancient Greek and Roman halls, asking all kind of questions about statues: their poses, clothing (or lack of it), facial expressions, and so on and so forth. Unaware, Miranda became more and more involved and began asking questions of her own, challenging her daughters' answers and listening carefully to the their reasoning.

Somewhere, between ninth and tenth statue, Miranda realized she was really enjoying this outing with the girls. They should do it more often. They should. Why didn't they? Wasn't it interesting, when on a wimp they stopped by the Frick collection a couple of months ago? Or roamed the little gallery they found in the summer on the back streets of Edinburgh? Or went to that famous exhibition in the Guggenheim last January? Or--. Miranda didn't have time to think of anything else, or rather think at all, before she turned around and glanced behind her.

Well.

Of course, there was no Andrea Sachs anywhere in the vicinity. And why should she be here at all? Just because the bloody girl suddenly took a habit of appearing all over the place? Damn! And only recently Miranda noticed with a relief that she could bear a thought of Andrea without getting the feeling of aching emptiness in her chest. Sometimes. When she concentrated hard enough. But everything turned upside down, when she saw the girl on the street – the light blue scarf, the ugly messenger bag, the short haircut--.

"Mom, is everything all right?" That was Cassidy, but they both were looking at her with concern.

"Of course," she answered airy, before realizing that not only she turned around in the middle of her own question to her daughters, she didn't finish it. Bloody hell! Miranda cleared her throat and smiled at the girls. After a brief hesitation, Cassidy nodded, and Caroline followed the suite. To prevent any further unwanted inquiries, Miranda motioned them to the next statue. "So, who could tell me--."

Everything seemed to go smoothly afterwards, but as the three of them were walking out of the museum, Cassidy asked quietly, "Is someone following us?"

Miranda stopped and looked at her. "Pardon?"

"Are we going to get a bodyguard?" fired out Caroline in eager anticipation.

"A what?" Miranda furrowed her brow.

"A bodyguard, like that girl from ninth grade had. You knew her parents – Count and Countess of what's-the-name, remember?" Caroline was practically dancing on the spot. "They moved to Italy last year."

"Could you, perhaps, explain to me in a calm, lady-like manner, why we are talking about those people?" Miranda asked softly.

With a glance Cassidy silenced her sister. "Mom, we've noticed," she started in Caroline's place, "that for that last half an hour you kept on, um, turning and looking around. Hence, we thought that you, maybe, um, have reasons to be concerned, um, that someone could follow us. You."

For a moment Miranda was speechless. Then, she pursed her lips and uttered in a cold, almost office-like tone, "I do hope you can find ways of putting your wild imagination to better use than this."

Girls exchanged quick glances, but didn't say anything.

As she was stomping down the stairs, her daughters in tow, Miranda decided that she simply needed a vacation.

"A long vacation away from this town," she amended, getting into her Mercedes. She refused to look out the window, as the car began moving.

"A long vacation and more time with David," Miranda finalized as she dropped the girls at the townhouse.

It was a good thing, then, they were actually leaving for St. Marteen next week, and David was to stay with them there for at least one weekend…

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A/N Thank you all for reading and reviewing.