Week 3
Following the harried second assistant, Andy attempted to keep up as they entered the Donna Karan showroom to pick up dresses. She rubbed the back of her neck while observing the younger woman's interactions with the designer's assistant. Soon they were exiting the building with their burdens. By the time they reached Elias-Clarke, both of them carried enough items to make it hard for them to see ahead with ease. They wobbled with their burdens back to the office.
With a sigh of relief, Andy retired to "her" chair and got to work transcribing her notes and reviewing the numbers. Although she still did not attempt to speak to Miranda, her mood had improved noticeably after her outing with Nigel. She even offered coffee to Emily, who sniffed as she reached for the steaming cup. Andy merely had grinned.
Miranda glided out of the office as she ordered, "Coat. Bag." With barely a glance at Andy she said softly, "Andrea," and starting walking toward the elevators. After shooting Emily a confused look, Andy jumped up, grabbing her coat and purse before following.
"Don't get in the same elevator with her," Emily hissed. Andy nodded as she hurried toward Miranda.
Miranda donned her sunglasses as she entered the elevator. She glared at Andy before cocking her head in an obvious directive to get in. Andy did. Standing rigidly, the brunette stared at the numbers as they descended. Miranda subtly ran her eyes over Andy's outfit. She wore a camel-colored Chloé pantsuit with a navy silk blouse. Andy shifted uneasily as her eyes darted toward the silent editor then away.
Andy trailed Miranda in to the town car and then into the restaurant without receiving any indication of why she was present. Andy had planned to shadow the second assistant today and tomorrow, but obviously she would have to adjust her schedule. For the next hour, Miranda spoke to Patrick about the upcoming photo shoot in Africa for the fall line. Andy jotted down some notes while attempting to remain inconspicuous. She refused Miranda's odd offer of drink and food, not wanting to add to Runway's expenses.
When Patrick rose to leave, Miranda surprised Andy by remaining seated. Instead she ordered a half carafe of wine and had the server pour a glass for Andy. Raising a glass and an eyebrow, Miranda waited for Andy to lift her own before imbibing.
"This is your last week, is it not?" Miranda asked.
"Yes. I have to submit the report this Friday. After that, I'll come in to observe once a month for six months to determine how the changes are working." Andy held her glass tightly with one hand while her other hand rested in her lap.
"What recommendations are you planning to submit?" Miranda stared at the consultant, as if daring her to evade her question.
"Uh, well, I haven't finished my review entirely. I have to finish looking through the financial statements and detailed budget documents over the next couple of days." Andy took a sip of the wine as her eyes swung to the tabletop.
"Surely you must have some idea, though, of what you propose to recommend," Miranda rejoined in her whispery voice. Andy nodded reluctantly.
"Well, y-yess. I do have some ideas, but I don't think it's a good idea—"
"No, no, no. I want to know what you are planning, and you are going to tell me right now." Miranda stared at Andy for several moments. "Tell me," Miranda said in a soft, forceful voice.
"You are not going to like it," Andy said, her voice shaky. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "But I really believe they will help your company, help you."
Miranda's barked an unpleasant laugh. "Oh, yes, I'm sure they will be extremely helpful. Go on. I'm waiting."
"Right. Well, the first set of recommendations has to do with discarding or reshooting a layout when you do not approve of the results you receive. That will have to stop. It costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. And although it may be warranted sometimes, it has become commonplace. You'll have to have it cleared to reshoot a spread." Miranda maintained a neutral expression as her finger circled the rim of her wineglass.
"What else," she intoned.
"Um, the hiring and firing of assistants. It taxes human resources just from the paperwork and interviewing process alone. Add to that the numerous lawsuits Elias-Clarke must fight and the many times it has agreed to cash settlements to avoid costly litigation, not to mention the time as well as the expense of training new assistants, and the cost becomes enormous. I am suggesting a three-month probationary period, at the end of which time you can fire or keep the person. No medical benefits will attach until after the probationary period ends." Miranda's facial expression still seemed indifferent, but her lips had firmed a bit more and an eyelid twitched just a bit.
"Continue," she directed.
"Okay. The next set of directives has to do with previewing upcoming fashion lines. Instead of traveling to them, I am suggesting they travel to you. The time and expense from traveling to and from the designers' showrooms add up. If they are coming to you, though, you'll have more time to devote to other duties, and the expense of gas, chauffeurs, and the like will be eliminated. To that end, you will have to set concrete preview times and not change them. I am recommending that you set aside specific days and times for run-throughs, previews, fashion shoots, and departmental meetings. It will save time and help your employees streamline their efforts." Miranda took a swig of her wine and set the glass down delicately.
"Anything else," she asked. Andy nodded.
"Yes. The location shoots." Andy gazed at Miranda earnestly. "They cost too much. You can go on location in areas that are much more economical. Like the African shoot. I am recommending that it be relocated to the Canadian Rockies. Banff would serve you well. These exotic areas you choose are not always necessary. That doesn't mean you can't always do so, but I'm suggesting that it be capped to three exotic locales per year with the rest in the United States, Mexico, or Canada, and the expenditures will be capped, too." Andy stopped when she saw Miranda place an elegant hand over her eyes.
"Miranda, I'm not making these suggestions to undermine you or to suggest that you are anything but fantastic at your job. However, I was assigned this account because my superiors believe I can help your organization. They have shown great faith in me. I wish you would." After several minutes of strained silence, Miranda straightened up and waved to the server for the check. She rose without commenting on Andy's recommendations and walked swiftly out of the restaurant. Andy scampered after her.
"Andrea," drifted across the office. Andy looked up from the stack of financial reports toward Miranda's office. Hopping up, she stood before the editor scant seconds after the summons. "Are you free for dinner tonight?" Andy blinked in surprise. She gazed at Miranda who had her head tilted as she held one of the arms of her glasses near her lips.
"Y-yes, Miranda. I am."
With a nod Miranda called for Emily. "Make reservations for two at Pastis at seven tonight. That's all." As soon as Emily left, Miranda returned her gaze toward Andy. "I assume you can find your way there?"
"Of course. Seven o'clock. Okay." Andy waited until Miranda redirected her intense gaze toward the contact sheets littering her desk before leaving the office.
For the rest of the day, Andy wore a puzzled expression as she waded through the financial reports for the last five years. She flipped back and forth, back and forth, comparing numbers, researching account numbers, and computing expenses. Some of the expenses were mysterious. She was determined to figure them out.
Although no other words were spoken between the two, others noticed the shift between consultant and editor, as if they had called a truce of some sort. Everyone knew not to question their good fortune. Instead they went about the business of producing the best fashion magazine in the world.
Seven o'clock came quickly. Andy arrived fifteen minutes early only to find that the editor was already seated. Andy sat down hesitantly. "Good evening, Miranda." The older woman ran her eyes over Andy slowly, allowing her lips to upturn in approval at what she saw.
"Andrea, Valentino hangs well on you," Miranda greeted her. Andy's eyes widened in surprise. Miranda's smile became more pronounced. Any response was stopped by the arrival of the waiter. The moment passed, and Andy chose to say nothing in response.
"I have deliberated on our last conversation," Miranda began after they had ordered their meals. "I do not think you are quite aware of how those recommendations can hurt the magazine, through no fault of your own. In fact, I never thought I'd say this, but I realize I may have acted a bit too harshly toward you." Noting Andy's surprised look, Miranda flitted her hand out as if unfurling a fan.
"You must understand that Irving has tried to remove me from Runway for years. Last year he nearly succeeded. I have viewed this as merely another attempt for him to gather ammunition against me." Salads arrived, stopping Miranda's revelations.
They ate their salads in a companionable silence. When they were nearly finished, Andy said, "I'm sure you realized rather quickly that I knew nothing of the office politics. I certainly have no agenda other than to help your company save money and use your workforce as effectively as possible. Truthfully, I don't know how to make sure Irv doesn't use my recommendations against you and yet still do my job well."
"Mmm, well, I have some ideas about that. You leave that to me." Miranda stared at the younger woman appraisingly. "You are more than you seem. You have a way about you." Shaking her head, the editor sipped her wine as she continued to gaze at Andy. They fell into another silence as their entrees were placed before them. Neither seemed inclined to break it.
Eventually Andy said, "Miranda, I truly do admire what you have accomplished. I realize that probably doesn't mean much coming from me," Andy shrugged, "but I can easily understand why Runway has prospered under your leadership." Her brown eyes reflected honest admiration. Surprised, Miranda's eyes shone brightly, a smile held in them although not allowed to cross her visage.
"Thank you, Andrea. That does indeed mean something."
By tacit agreement, they finished their meals while discussing topics outside of Runway. Although they took their time and drew out the meal with coffee, eventually it was time to leave.
"Do you need a ride home, Andrea?" Miranda asked.
"No. Actually, I live right down the street. Do you, do you want to come back for a nightcap?" Andy asked. Miranda stared at the younger woman before nodding. They walked two blocks without speaking. Although comfortable during dinner, a different energy now buzzed between them—something electric and expectant.
The apartment was neat and cozy. The entrance opened directly into a living room area sectioned off by a couch to create a dining area. A kitchen bar with stools was positioned across from a sink, stove, and refrigerator with white cabinets. Two rooms were attached off the dining room area—the bedroom and bathroom. Personal effects reflected a passionate, intelligent woman. A full bookcase, high-quality pottery, original paintings, and plush afghans adorned the main rooms.
Moving into the living room, the editor seated herself on a comfortable sofa, running her hand over the blanket hanging over the top of it. Andy moved toward the kitchen area only to return quickly with a chastised expression.
"Turns out I have no wine to offer, but there's a liquor store nearby. Why don't you make yourself comfortable, and I'll buy some?"
"There's no need to go to such trouble," Miranda began.
"It's no trouble. It won't take long. I'll be right back." Andy moved toward the door before Miranda could fashion a reply.
While Andy was gone, Miranda looked around more closely, even going so far as to wander around the apartment. Poking her head into the bedroom, she saw Andy's computer set up on a small desk against the wall. The screen became active when Miranda brushed the touchpad with her finger, showing the recommendations which were due the next day. All were exactly as Andy had revealed to Miranda at the beginning of the week.
Making a decision, Miranda sat down and emailed the report to her private email. After sending it, she erased all evidence of the email from the sent and deleted folders. Next, she revised the report in several keys places so that Runway would not need to reduce their budget so drastically. After she was content with the changes, she emailed the new report to Andy's superior. Smiling grimly, Miranda sent that report to herself, too, before removing all traces of it from Andy's computer. When she was done, the original report sat on the computer screen exactly the way Miranda had found it.
Hearing the door, Miranda hurried across the hall to the bathroom, taking a few moments to freshen up before joining Andy.
"Oh. There you are," Andy said as she crossed to Miranda with a full wineglass. They clinked glasses and sipped. "I'm sorry I took so long."
"Don't think twice about it. I kept myself entertained," Miranda murmured as she returned to her seat on the couch. "You have a nice apartment, Andrea. Have you lived here long?"
"No, not terribly long. Um, I ended a relationship and needed to move." Andy looked around the room. "I like it here. It's cozy, and it's my space, my safe area where I can relax and just be me."
"Mmm. I can empathize. I'm sure you've heard about my divorce," Miranda sighed. "I will be much happier once that has concluded. It's not so much me—I don't really care about what anybody writes about me—but my girls. It's just so unfair to the girls." Miranda shook her head and looked away only to look back up quickly when she felt a comforting hand on her arm.
"I'm so sorry, Miranda." Andy's eyes reflected compassion and warmth.
"Thank you." Noticing Andy's nearly-empty glass, Miranda leaned forward and filled it. "To new beginnings," she toasted.
Each time the liquid in Andy's glass became low, Miranda topped it with more wine. Andy slouched back on the couch next to Miranda, shoes off and hair tousled from running her hand through it numerous times as they discussed everything and anything that came to mind. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Miranda Priestly?" Andy giggled.
"And if I am?" Miranda asked imperiously.
"I'd say you don't need to go to such lengths." Andy smiled broadly.
"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Miranda sniffed, but a smile ghosted her features, accentuated by sparkling blue eyes.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," Andy used both hands to carefully place her wineglass on the coffee table then she swayed toward Miranda gracelessly, just catching herself before she smashed into the silver-haired woman. "Oh! I have to send the report!" Andy jumped up, rocked on her heels, and plunked back on to the couch heavily. "Oops," she laughed. "I guess my balance is off."
Miranda placed her hand on Andy's knee to forestall her. "You already sent it, Andrea, about an hour ago. You mentioned how you hoped to get your promotion through it." Confusion danced through cloudy, brown eyes for several moments, eyebrows drawn together in thought.
"I do remember we were talking about it…are you sure?" Miranda raised her eyebrows and glared. "Oh, right. Okay." Andy smiled fully, eliciting a smile from the editor. Slowly Andy's smile faded as she continued to stare. "You are so beautiful," Andy said.
As Miranda sat frozen, Andy closed the distance between them. They kissed gently, hesitantly, but as the moments passed, they connected more firmly. Soon arms pulled each other close as faces tilted and lips opened to welcome a more intimate kiss. One kiss became two, then four, then more.
Trembling, Miranda gently pulled back, tucking her head into Andy's neck and breathing deeply. She moved one hand across Andy's back in soothing circles while keeping the girl flush with her body. After a time, Miranda heard deep breathing. She lifted her head to see Andy had fallen asleep in her arms. With a smile filled with remorse and sorrow, Miranda carefully laid the sleeping beauty on the couch, taking the time to place the afghan over her.
With one last look of regret, Miranda quietly left the apartment.