Clued UP Chapter 7.

Twenty miles further up the 1-191, Emily was thoroughly enjoying driving Serena's beautiful Mercedes Sports Car. She imagined she was Grace Kelly in an old 1950s film driving along the French Riviera coast road. She loved the car, she definitely loved her companion and she loved her job. She had invented a little justification for this escapade to settle her conscience. She was doing it all to protect Miranda from an unworthy liaison with another Stephen. Her boss needing saving from herself. Hadn't it already been proved by now, beyond all reasonable doubt, that she had terrible taste in men?

Emily would be the one to discover who the villain was, and then set about revealing his deadly deeds, so Miranda could be saved. Serena's stated suspicion that Miranda was gay, she had decided to discount. Andy's pictures had just shown Miranda dancing and enjoying feminine company, not really anything more, and Emily shied away from thinking that her own hidden sexuality, still such a tender subject to herself, could ever be the same as her boss. She put her thoughts on Miranda's mystery lover to Serena, who was sitting beside her and enjoying her profile.

Serena wasn't convinced at all by Emily saying they were looking for a male companion. She knew Emily's gaydar wasn't the smartest. It had taken her ages before she even realised Serena was relentlessly chatting her up over their endless mini-lunches, and coffee breaks. Then it had taken all Serena's guile and skills at seduction to push Emily into accepting her own gayness, which to the Brazilian, was as clear as the nose on Emily's cute face.

She had been doing her own thought processing over Miranda's mystery lover, and had come up with a possible scenario so outlandish, so unbelievable, that it could in fact be the truth. But it was crazy. Serena knew Emily had a weak nervous system, and she didn't want to risk her crashing her precious Merc, so she buried the thought in the back of her mind and didn't discourage Emily's pontificating, about the awfulness of unsuitable men in general, and their tendency to gather round Miranda in particular.

"Turn off next out," she reminded Emily, looking at the GPS screen. "What do you want to do now? Do you think Miranda will have booked into her accommodation yet, or be in the centre of P-town?"

"I don't think she'll be there yet. One can't normally book in to inns before 3pm, though of course, what Miranda wants, Miranda always gets. Let's mooch about and enjoy the beaches first. Then we can go into the centre and look at the art galleries and dress shops. I thought I might just call the reception at her hotel later and check she's arrived safely. Even she finds out, she'll think I'm calling from the office, being efficient, you know. We can then work out our strategy for detecting her."

So that is what the two young women did. Emily finally got to feel the sand under her toes, and fulfilled her dream of walking along the shoreline, hand–in –hand with Serena. There were also some athletics practice in the dunes, and the collecting of seashells.

Provincetown was certainly a very gay friendly place. Women in couples were everywhere, sitting out in the warm sunshine, enjoying drinks at the many cafes and bars. The air was so much fresher than in New York, and the temperature, in the low 80s, felt almost brisk compared to what they had endured for the last three weeks in the Big Apple.

Then, out of the blue, Emily felt a frisson of adrenalin as she saw Miranda, as large as life, wearing shorts and shades and not much else, talking to a guy in front of a real estate office across the street. He was quite a bit younger than her, very tanned, and with a Colgate smile. He was waving his arms about and seemed super enthusiastic. Miranda was her usual impassive self, but she seemed positive. They walked off together down the street, and round the corner.

"I told you!" she squeaked at Serena. "It's a toy-boy! I knew it. "

Serena chuckled. The guy looked like a realtor to her. "OK honey, you win. Now let's go do some serious shopping. I have an American Express Card just itching to be used. If I spend $ 12000 on it, I will get to take a companion with me on a flight to Rio for free. Now we know she's in town, and who she's with, we can relax."

Miranda and the realtor, who said his name was Karl (with a K, not Junior.), reached Andy, who was waiting for them with the car parked in a side street. Karl (waknj) was giving Miranda instructions on how to follow him out of town, and then left them so he could pull his own Toyota Prius out of the parking lot and lead them off to the cottage on the beach.

"It's a little difficult to locate if you don't know, it's super secluded."

"Gay couple, just 'married', looking for a love-nest," he thought to himself as soon as he saw Andy's long tanned legs, and come-hither bedroom eyes. It was going to be an easy sale. And in fact he was right. So it proved to be.

The house sold itself to them really. It was the last in a line of properties along a lane running just behind the high-tide mark, but there was a good fifty yards between it and its nearest neighbour. It had the classic beach cottage look, painted blue and white, with hardwood floors, three beds, two baths, and a wide porch running along its entire length, just crying out for a swinging seat on which to read, make love and watch the waves. The air-con was newly installed. The large refrigerator, and other white goods were included in the price. There was parking for two cars, (and a boat), and a large open-plan kitchen lounge with windows on three sides. Access to the beach was just beside the house. The scent of sea-thrift, semi-wild carnations and salt pervaded the atmosphere.

Andy loved it. She loved the seagulls calling to each other across the roof-shingles, she loved the rainbow colored windsock flying from the flagpole. She loved that you could see and hear the sea from every room. She could write here. She might even write a novel. Miranda looked at her happy face, and was satisfied. She'd warmed to it too. The girls would love it as well.

She took the young man by the arm and walked him back to the cars. "What's their lowest price?" "What's your best offer?" "For cash and a quick completion." Miranda named a figure. He said he'd call the owners. She gave him her cell phone number. By 4pm, the deal was finalised.

Karl drove away a happy man. He always loved romantics. They never fussed about things like mains drainage or re-wiring. But the women had actually done well. They'd snapped up one of the best beach front properties on his books. Another few days, and it would have been sold to someone else.

Miranda handed the car-keys to Andrea. "Now then, my darling girl, let's find our Inn. I've done enough decision making for one day. You can choose the dinner menu, and what we do for the rest of the evening."

Andrea smiled.

"That won't be difficult," she took Miranda's hand, and kissed it as they returned to the car. "I wonder what Em and Serena are up to."

Emily and Serena were busy booking into their Inn, "The Windhover", at the far end of Provincetown. It looked dreamy, the gardens were delightful, and there were a row of individual chalets each with its own hot-tub and private outside space. The restaurant had loads of stars, so Serena dragged Emily through the challenging process of deciding to dine in. Whenever she had to think about dining, in or out, Emily began to hyperventilate, but she obeyed Serena. Surely they would have some salads on the menu. While Serena was pulling suitcases out of the trunk, Emily rang the Inn where she had booked a room for Miranda and guest and checked up that the arrangements were still all in place.

"Sorry, that booking was cancelled this morning."

"What! Did they say why?"

"No, just change of plans apparently. Sorry, I can't give out more details."

Emily pondered on this. She asked Serena anxiously about it.

"Do you think Miranda decided not to stay after all?"

"Who knows? Maybe she's moved on towards New Hampshire. Didn't you say she was picking up her kids tomorrow? Anyway, stop worrying. It means she'll be far, far away and she won't catch us. You can stop jumping about like a cricket frightened of its own backside, and we can enjoy a lovely romantic weekend."

The words lovely, romantic, and weekend, all thrilled Emily, and she followed the older girl through to the chalet which was to be their own little piece of heaven for the next two nights.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Miranda and Andy also pulled their car into the Windhover parking lot, and eased themselves out of the vehicle.

"It looks fine," considered Andy, taking stock of the gardens, the smart exterior and the large swimming pool behind a rose trellis. Then she glanced up and down the line of cars beside them.

"Oh, no, you've got to be kidding!"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Look, the blue Merc! Emily and Serena are staying here!"

Miranda's eyes crinkled with a genuine, broad grin.

"Well, ain't that a thing? The fates have delivered them straight into my hands."

"But it means we'll be found out! All is lost!"

"I don't think so. I think we can have quite a bit of fun here. Go ahead and book us in, and let's relax for an hour or so. Then I'm going to pay those young ladies a little visit. "

Andrea had seen Miranda in full fury mode before, and it wasn't a pretty sight, even when she was half pretending just for the heck of it. For Emily's sake she hoped there were plenty of snacks available in their mini-bar she could feed to Miranda before she set off in search of the errant twosome. She booked them in, and managed to see from the ledger on the desk that their room was on a different pathway and round the corner from Serena's and Emily's. But the place wasn't large, fifty guests maximum, so an encounter could pretty much guaranteed, even if Miranda didn't go visiting.

For the next hour, Miranda and she unwound after their long trip, the house viewing, and hey, the house buying, and what had been an emotionally mind-blowing couple of weeks. They stripped off and sat back in their hot-tub, using the water jets to soothe tired muscles and ease away the tensions. Andy lay back against Miranda and let her explore her breasts and belly under the water. Miranda loved to play with her, and the water rippling around her intensified her responses. She began to whimper as Miranda followed her fingers with her mouth, and before long, grabbing a couple of towels, she pulled Miranda out of the tub, and back onto their bed.

"Take me now", she pleaded, "Help me come, please."

Miranda loved to see Andrea in this state, losing control, begging. It thrilled her that a person as beautiful, as fresh and pure as Andrea, could depend on her to reach orgasm, and had actually chosen to love her back so completely when she had pursued her. She felt a deep gratitude to the gods for making it happen.

She pushed Andrea up onto the pillows, gently widened the gap between those smooth golden legs, and lowered her mouth to kiss and lick her way deep inside her lover's core. In the following half hour, she managed to bring Andy to orgasm not once, which happened almost immediately, not twice, but three times. They lay together afterwards, both panting somewhat to catch their breath. Then Andy turned the tables, and gave Miranda a ride across the moon as exciting as during their first night together.

"We're both really good at this. Who would have known?"

"I knew you'd be good as soon as I observed your rear view sashaying out of my office that first day. You didn't fool me. But you're right. We are good at it, because we love each other and we want to give each other the best."

They lay together in a state of post-coital contentment, and dozed off for an hour or so. The evening was drawing in, and Miranda looked at her watch, then stood up and went for a shower. She slipped into a red dinner dress and heels and brushed her hair up and back into a slightly severe style. She put on enough war paint to fight the Battle of Little Big Horn, and a slash of red lipstick which Andy nearly kissed off at once, it looked so scarily attractive.

Andy was wrapped in a bath towel and still lay on the bed.

"Oh, dearie me," she said, "What are you up to?"

"I'm just going to rescue my Book," said Miranda, "and invite our young friends down the way to join us for dinner. Do you think I look sufficiently dragon-like?

"Absolutely. Sure you're not going to get them fried up as the dinner?"

"As if I would. As you so often tell me Andrea. I am just a pussy-cat at heart. But I won't ask you to come along with me. I know you're too tender hearted to watch Emily being eviscerated, and I'm not going to tell her who my companion is just yet. We'll save that little surprise for later!"

"Should I wish you luck, or them?"

"Luck for me won't be needed. Trust me."

Emily and Serena had also enjoyed some late afternoon sex. It was quieter and gentler than Miranda and Andy had achieved. Emily still thought one orgasm a day was the national standard, and mostly she just liked to lie next to Serena and let her draw fantastic landscapes on her body with those exquisitely manicured nails. They were naked in bed, in the warmth of the setting sun, completely relaxed.

Then out of the blue there was a sharp double knock on their chalet door.

Emily, always Pavlovian when it came to answering phones, doors or the sound of Miranda's voice, pulled on a white towelling robe which came with the room, and ventured to respond.

"Did we order room service?" she asked Serena over her shoulder, as she undid the lock and looked out.

Miranda stood there, resplendent in her scarlet lipstick and dress. In her heels she towered over Emily's cowering nudity.

Emily fell backwards, "Oh God, Mir . . . Oh God. . . . Oh "

Miranda strode in, and automatically owned the room.

"Somewhat late to call on the Almighty, don't you think, Emily?"

Serena pulled a sheet up over her naked body, and swore in Portuguese.

Miranda wasn't going to make it easy for them. She stared straight at Emily, waiting.

"Well?"

"I'm so sorry, Miranda."

"For what?"

"Well, for following you up here, for taking the day off, for not holding the fort, for the Book . . . . . I know I've let you down."

"So why did you follow me all the way up here?"

"Because . . . "Emily could feel the tears coming. Being caught smoking behind the bike sheds at school by her headmistress when she was fourteen was nothing to this.

"Because I was worried about you, for you. I thought you might get hurt again . . . like with Stephen . . . I wanted to find out."

Oh God, she was so dead. She had broken every single rule on Miranda's book. She knew even mentioning Stephen's name was a hanging offence.

Serena, wrapped in the sheet, rose up as Emily's protector. "If you want to blame anyone Miranda, blame me. It was all my idea. Emily works so hard. She never gets a day off and the heatwave has been driving us all crazy. I just wanted to give her a little adventure."

Miranda leaned back against their door frame.

"Where is the Book? I presume you have it tossed aside somewhere."

"The Book, yes of course, the Book. I have been working on it. I am up to page 57. "

Emily rushed to her bag and extracted the precious portfolio, along with the post-it notes and pen.. Miranda held out her hands and Emily gave it over to her.

She started to cry, in a very British, keep calm and carry on fashion, although she knew she wouldn't be carrying on after this. All her hopes and dreams, all her future in the fashion industry were going up in flames. Miranda was disappointed. Miranda was so cold, she must be completely furious, at being stalked, at being spied on, and now she knew Emily was gay, and untrustworthy, and . . . The tears stopped being British and under control . . . .

"Oh for goodness sake, girl. There's no need to cry."

Serena put her arms round Emily and stared defiantly at Miranda, well, as defiantly anyone in Runway ever had stared at her, (which was no-one.)

"You're making her cry. She thinks you're going to fire her. Fire me instead."

"Don't be ridiculous. No-one is going to fire anybody. I merely came to collect the book, and invite you both to have dinner with me here tonight"

"Whaat?"

"Emily, we may be in Cape Cod, but remember you are not a cod-fish. So dry your eyes and close your mouth. I was thinking of giving you a rollicking about the Book, but you obviously have worked hard on it, and haven't lost it in the sand dunes, so there's no real harm done, is there?

"I'll see you in the restaurant, shall we say 7.30? And Emily, I know what you've been doing, tracking down clues, chasing around to see where I've been and with whom all week. That has to stop. And to make it stop, I'll tell you the truth this evening. "

"Oh – ah – ee."

"Stop that ridiculous imitation of Pavarotti.

"I just want both of you to give me your solemn assurance that I can trust you to keep this confidential, that what happens in Provincetown stays in Provincetown. Will you do that? Can I trust you?"

The girls both nodded. "Yes, Miranda". "Of course Miranda."

"How did you know we were here? How did you find us?" whispered Emily. She still felt like a small mouse having a conversation with a large cat.

"You passed me on the road this morning, and we saw you at the gas station, then saw your car parked here when we signed in. I also saw you on Main Street earlier this afternoon. I must say as private investigators you're absolutely useless."

"'We' . . . ?"

"Oh yes, the person I'm dating is the person who drove up with me, the person staying here with me. As I said, we'll see you at dinner later."

And Miranda left with the Book back where it belonged, under her arm.

She made it back to her chalet without breaking into an audible laugh, but when Andy let her in, her shoulders were shaking.

"Classic. They were naked, had been in bed, obviously. Emily cried. Serena wanted to take a bullet for her. They looked so sweet together all my ire and venom disappeared. I've asked them to join us for dinner."

"But, what about? Did you tell them about me?"

"No, I didn't. I wanted to leave that until we sit down. But they have solemnly promised not to say anything about all of this."

"And you believe them?"

"Yes. They are still too frightened of me to lie. And anyway, they're not stupid. They know I could still fire them."

Andy hurried to get herself ready for the evening meal. Despite her earlier teasing, she did hope Miranda had packed something formal for her to wear, and of course her Queen had not disappointed. She slipped into the summer weight dark green silk dress, and high heeled sandals.

"Sit." Miranda pointed to the stool in front of the mirrored unit, and then began to brush out Andrea's hair.

"Thanks. "

"You know how much I like to look after your hair. Well, someone has to."

"I love you to brush it. It gives me goose-bumps."

By the end of Miranda's hair-dressing session, Andy's hair fell in a luxuriant main over one shoulder, and her face was delicately but beautifully made up, so her eyes looked like stars and her mouth had a hungry deep red curve to it. Miranda gave her a puff of hair spray, and then a longer application of her own perfume. It turned Andy's head.

"It's a little different on you than on me, but it works. I want you to wear it often. And finally, I have a little present for you, I brought it from New York. "

Miranda opened a Tiffany's small square box and took out two drop ear-rings, with tiny gold filigree holding two sparkling emeralds.

"Oh, Miranda. They're gorgeous. How can I thank you?"

"Here, let me," and Miranda hung the flashing green stones from Andy's ears. It was the same fantasy she had had two weeks before, and the look exceeded her expectations.

"Come on, we need to go over to the restaurant."

They left the room together.

To say Emily was gobsmacked, was putting it crudely, but pretty accurate. When she saw Andy come to the table behind Miranda, she went red in the face with a whole cocktail of emotions, disbelief, fury at Andy, disbelief, embarrassment at how dense she had been, disbelief again, fury again, and then finally a huge feeling of relief.

Miranda wasn't with some sweaty man who would break her heart, and make Emily's job impossible. Andy, as she had always known underneath, was a truly nice and good person, and if Miranda wanted to be in bed with a person with zero fashion sense and zero style, then so be it. The clues she had thought were leading one way, had actually all been leading in quite another.

"I guess I wasn't such a good detective after all. I never had a real clue."

They ordered food. Miranda suggested a fish platter to share, and quietly kept passing Emily small pieces of battered this and that delicacy which she was too intimidated not to eat. The four ate and drank excellent sea-food, and white wine, and eventually they got onto the subject of being gay women in a straight world.

Andy followed Miranda's lead, and told them the next instalment of her "coming out to Mother saga" she had begun in the car. Serena was so grateful, for they were helping her smooth out some of Emily's self-hatred and fear of being outed.

"Andrea and I have to leave early tomorrow, but you enjoy the rest of the weekend. You know, we bought a place here this afternoon, so we can come again for longer, when work permits. You might even join us."

"What happens in Provincetown stays in Provincetown" murmured Serena. "When we go back, I promise we'll stop all the rumors about your affair. I can do it."

"Thank you, it would be a help. I haven't even told my girls yet, so I don't really appreciate the idea of Irv getting to know before they do."

Emily and Serena stood politely when Miranda rose to leave the table. They watched Andy and her pass out of the room, and saw Miranda's hand slide down Andy's back to the curve of her hip as she went out the door.

"Well!"

"Yes. I was right then, wasn't I?"

"What about?"

"Oh, I never told you. I thought it might be Andy. I thought about it coming up. I just didn't want you to crash my car, so I never told you. "

The following Monday there was a new rumor spreading through all the Runway offices, emanating from the First Assistant's desk, (and she should surely know,) that Miranda was definitely not having an Affair after all. Serena, the Beauty Editor passed it on with great confidence, so it quickly gained purchase on the tables in the editorial offices, the art department and the post room. The walls of the washroom sucked it up and admitted they might have misheard before. It bounced through the swinging doors of their reception and even down the elevators to the foyer. Everyone accepted it as true.

Only six people knew this to be as trustworthy an idea as spindrift floating on the Providence sand-dunes. They were, of course Miranda and Andy, Roy, who saw everything but said nothing, Nigel who had known Miranda for twenty years or more, and was her main confidant, Serena and Emily. Emily guarded the secret as closely as she held the Book. Her loyalty to Miranda was now even more copper-bottomed than before, and she would die rather than tell another soul.

(But she still rather hoped Andy would continue to forget about deleting her picture file, oh, and not bother to change her password. Those evenings waiting for the Book could get very long and boring.)

Epilogue:

Andy and Miranda were grateful for the breathing space, to establish their relationship as a couple. Miranda broadened her repertoire of songs, but she never stopped singing, and Andy taught the twins all about the finer points of soft-ball, even if she no longer had time to play in the lower Bronx Ladies League herself.

She still scared Miranda to death by running between the traffic to fetch coffee, until a coffee machine was installed on the 23rd floor. They both gravitated to their home in Cape Cod, more and more, walking the beaches of Provincetown, looking for sea shells, and flat pebbles to skim across the shining water. They remain, to this day, and always will be, very much in love.

The End.