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Three hours after Miranda had left René's studio, the elevator doors pinged, drawing René's eyes to their gleaming doors, as Andy stepped off the lift.

"Please tell me that isn't what you were wearing earlier today?"

René looked down at his clothes. G-Star fawn colored jeans with tan stripped suspenders, which hung at his sides, and a Lagerfeld t-shirt with a caricature of Karl on the front. He was currently barefoot but he had a tweed pork pie hat on his head. René stood and tipped his hat back. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"You look like an American hipster!"

"You suck. If anyone's a hipster, it's you. You and your crappy Mumford and Sons, indie label music."

"Hey. Don't bring Mumford into this. They're innocent."

René had crossed the room and pulled Andy into him, both of them laughing.

At a little over 6 feet, René easily folded his cousin in his arms. Andy patted his shoulder and he stepped back. Returning to his seat, he draped his thin lanky frame over the backwards chair so his chest pushed against the back.

"No, ass. This isn't what I wore. Well, the shirt was but I had that velvet coat from Varvatos, the Joe's Brixton jeans and the black wingtips. They're over there." René jerked his thumb in the direction of the screened area. He saw something on his finger. He brought his thumb to his mouth and discretely licked it.

Andy's eyes zeroed in on his thumb and then to the table in front of him. "Did you just suck your thumb?"

René quickly pulled it from his mouth. "No."

"Yes you…oh my God." Andy's eyes widened. "You had peanut butter on your hand."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. That's why you licked your thumb."

"Maybe I was reverting to an infant like state because you were treating me like a child."

"Fuck." Andy turned around in a circle, trying to see if there was peanut butter. "Did you touch my jacket, René, I swear to God…"

"Relax. It's not like I wiped my hands on you. Jeeze. And stop spinning. You're making me nauseous." He looked over her jacket. "You're totally fine. There's nothing there."

"Asshole."

"Whatever. You want one?" René's attention flicked back to the table in front of him. He made another sandwich.

"Are you just now eating?" Andy asked, her voice carrying a tone of censure.

"I wasn't hungry earlier."

"René." Andy's tone reflected both her disapproval and worry. There had been a few years, when he was a teenager, in which René hadn't been eating properly and he had dropped down to a dangerously low weight.

"Yes Mom." He snarked back condescendingly.

"It's just…"

"I know." He cut her off. "Don't worry. I just wasn't hungry earlier. This is like my sixth sandwich. I was all nervous and shit."

"I know, I remember the phone call."

René nodded and then asked again, "So you want one?"

"Sure." Andy pulled up a chair, flipped it backwards, straddled the seat and asked "So how'd it go?"

He handed her the sandwich, swallowed his own bite and replied. "It went really well. She wanted 46 of the 52 pieces from Wednesday's show and indicated that she'd like to use more than half of the ready-to-wear collection. Plus she's like, sending a writer to interview me. And she smiled. Twice." René rushed through his words, his voice reflecting his excitement.

"I was super nervous and excited. I totally thought I would do that nervous laugh thing." Andy nodded. She was familiar with the laugh. "But I totally kept it together. Thank God Jaime was here. He took care of the coats and juice and fruit and coffee. He even went out half way through the show and got more coffee. I only had to organize the models and clothes. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I turned around and realized that this was really happening. Miranda "fucking" Priestly was in my studio."

"Please tell me you didn't call her that?"

"Only in my head." He grinned and then continued. "So anyway, the show rocked and she smiled."

"You said that already."

"Well it's a big deal." Andy indicated with her fingers for him to move on. "I had to duck behind the curtain at least twice to stop myself from shaking."

Andy smiled indulgently at René. He had always been overdramatic but he had a good heart and was a hard worker. He deserved this chance. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you again Andy for giving me this chance."

"Nonsense René. You would have made it without my help. You're very talented."

René wiped his hand on a napkin and then reached over to Andy's hand. "No." He stared at Andy trying to properly convey his point. "I mean everything, not just today or this week. Thank you for everything. You didn't have to let me come to Miragnac or put me through school. I could be living with Aunt Helen and Patrick in Ohio, working at 7-11 or some shit like that."

Andy smiled at René and gripped his hand "You don't have to thank me René, we're family. No matter what, right?"

"Right!"

They both fell silent as they finished their sandwiches. As René finished his, he stood up walked to the small office fridge he kept in the corner, grabbed to clean glasses and a liter of milk. He walked back and poured the milk. Andy finished her sandwich and took one of the glasses. Nodding her thanks, she clinked her glass against his, as was their tradition, and together they drank their milk in one continuous swallow. René wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as Andy reached for her napkin. "Gross. Use a napkin."

René laughed and then asked, "So how did your day go?"

Andy tilted her head side to side, as if she was unsure. "So, so. The plant in Pyrus is behind schedule but they think the new line will be ready by Wednesday next week. Which is good because I have a meeting with Astrium on Monday and I'd like to be able to tell them something. I think I'll need to have Amanda set up a face to face with them in London, in a few weeks to go over the new product line." Andy shrugged. "Adam has been dealing with Boeing this last week. They want a meeting. I don't have any open space on my calendar before the end of March. It will have to suffice."

"What about Bea? You takin' her?"

"Not to London but in March, yeah. We'll stay a week or two and visit with a few friends. It should all slow down around Easter. I'm hoping to spend some time at home without having to run around so much."

"Anyone else interested?"

"A few. We're hearing whispers from Lockheed and Amsat. Nothing definitive but we'll see. Hey do you think Grandmother will let me skip my birthday because I have to work?"

"Not even if you were on your death bed. How many people has she invited?"

"200, give or take."

René let out a slow whistle.

"She won't listen at all." Andy rested her forehead against the back of the chair. "René use your big brown eyes and convince her I don't need a ball."

He gasped dramatically, setting his hand in the middle of his chest, as if he had lost his breath. "But Andy every girl needs a ball," he teased, trying to unsuccessfully effect a southern accent.

She laughed. "Thanks Scarlett for your help."

She looked at her wrist. "I've got to go now. I have a conference call in an hour and dinner plans tonight. Will I see you for breakfast?"

"Sure, around noon?"

"I said breakfast, not lunch."

"Fine." René pouted. "9?"

"9," Andy agreed. She gave him a brief hug before leaving. As she left the lift, her body guard Lars met her and walked her to the car. Just before she entered, she looked up. René was standing at the window. He gave a little wave and a memory struck her. "Waving even more gently…" She wondered if her Grandmother had ever taken the time to teach him to wave properly. She waved back and then entered the car. She needed to make that call.

Miranda's town car pulled up to 73 Quai d´Orsay promptly at 6:45. A slim built man with light brown hair, blue eyes and a small tight smile opened Miranda's door. "Ms. Priestly?"

"Miranda," she automatically corrected him.

"Yes, Ms. Priestly." He leaned into the car and spoke to the driver. As the driver pulled away he turned back towards Miranda.

"Ms. Priestly, I sent your driver back to the hotel. There's no parking here and we have a driver nearby on stand-by. He'll drive you wherever you need to go, whenever you're ready." The man bowed slightly at the neck and introduced himself. "My name is Lars and if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Miranda," she corrected him again. "Call me Miranda."

"Yes Ms. Priestly." He replied with a small smile.

Understanding that she was at a disadvantage at the moment, she let it go.

"Are we dining here?" She indicated the sidewalk they had been standing on.

"Forgive me." He motioned to the glass door under the brass 73. He held up an electronic key fob and then punched in a code. The front door unlocked and he stepped to the side and waited for her to enter first. There were three doors to the right and three to the left. Miranda waited for Lars to indicate which belonged to Andréa's. He motioned them past all six and towards the back of the foyer. Discretely tucked behind a reception desk were two small elevators. He stepped in front of the one to the left and again swiped his key fob over a sensor. The elevator door's opened. Miranda stepped inside. She was slightly startled when Lars joined her.

She was only a moment from demanding he'd step out and take the other lift when he raised the key fob once more, slid it over a sensor and then keyed in another code. He pressed his thumb to the only button in the elevator and then waited. A chime sounded and he removed his thumb. He then took out a set of keys and turned the lock above the button. The elevator finally started to move. Miranda, feeling overwhelmed, tried to dismiss the entire procedure.

"Is this really necessary?" She tried to sound unaffected.

Lars wasn't sure how to answer that. He and his family had worked for Andy and her family for at least 4 generations. He had joined her protect detail when she was 16 years old. He had been 35 then. It wasn't until she started University that he had been reassigned to the castle guard. In his opinion nothing was too much to keep her safe. "Yes."

Lars took a good look at Miranda. This was the first time he had met her face to face but this wasn't the first time he had to deal with her. The last time, he had been sent to New York to check on Andy. Her Grandmother had been concerned by her recent emails. He had not felt reassured by the visit though, and had said as much to Her Royal Highness.

Andy had abandoned dinner with him because of a phone call from Miranda. She was so overwhelmed, she smacked him in the head with a taxi door. Andy had been on step away from calling the National Guard and asking for a favor as a head of state. It took a few minutes to remind her why she couldn't ask for that kind of favor for her boss.

Before Miranda could ask anything else the doors chimed again and slid open to reveal a marble foyer. "Good evening Ms. Priestly. I'll be waiting down stairs." And with that the doors slid shut leaving Miranda standing alone in the cavernous entry way built entirely of Travertino cream marble.

It took less than a second before she heard Andréa's voice filter into the foyer.

"No, I understand. Yes. Monday's fine. Before 9 though." Pause. "Adam." There was another pause. "Adam. I need to go. No, not later tonight. Okay. Yes, thank you. Good night." There was the click of a phone.

Miranda stood a little straighter, narrowed her eyes into her most chilling stare. She knew she looked intimidating. She felt like she was already a step behind and desperately needed to regain her footing. It seemed no matter how many people she talked to or what Wikipedia was able to tell her, it didn't come close to answering the questions that she had.

Andréa walked up the stairs to right of the elevator giving Miranda a moment to watch her enter. Her head appeared first. Her pixie cut framing her face perfectly. Her ears were unadorned but she was wearing a string of pearls that wrapped around her slender neck. She had donned a black wool crepe dress, Chanel, with a jewel neckline. It hugged her waist and then swirled out around her long legs. As she cleared the last stair, her shoes came into view, Ferragamo black velvet heels. Miranda nodded despite herself.

Her heels clicked, and then muffled, as she crossed the marble floors and stepped onto the Persian rug in front of the elevator. "Miranda, it's wonderful to see you. I'm so glad your schedule allowed us this opportunity." Without pausing or allowing Miranda to return the greeting, not that she would have, Andy surged forward and boldly grasped Miranda's right hand, while leaning forward and kissing her left and then right cheek.

Surprised, Miranda didn't have a chance to step back. By the time the initial shock had worn off, Andréa was already moving away. "I apologize for the delay but work never ends, as you know." Her voice lifted into a sing song tone as she explained. "Can I interest you in a drink before dinner or would you like to eat right away?"

"A drink first." Miranda struggled to make sense of this Andréa. She was supposed to be wary of Miranda. This was supposed to be the Spanish Inquisition not drinks at the Carlyle. Miranda felt very unbalanced as she followed Andréa. A drink would help. Obviously she'd needed to rethink her plan. Intimidation was not going to work here.

Andréa walked to the left of the elevator, towards a staircase. Miranda followed a full step behind her. Miranda allowed herself a brief look around her. They were ascending a marble staircase, surrounded by matching marble walls. The walls lent a claustrophobic feeling to the staircase. After 12 or so steps they reached a landing, also made of the light colored marble. The staircase turned to the right and continued up four more steps. Thankfully the right side of the wall ended, opening the space and allowed Miranda to take a deep breath. Enclosed space had always bothered her. A glass half wall-topped with a thin steel rail continued alongside the staircase. Miranda's breath caught audibly.

Andréa turned back towards Miranda and paused. There was a light blush coloring her cheeks. "I know it's a bit much but I hate enclosed spaces and I always wanted something like…well. Ah, have you ever been to San Francisco?"

Miranda nodded.

"Did you have a chance to visit the Conservatory at Golden Gate?"

Miranda still speechless, shook her head no.

"Well, it's a lot bigger than this but I wanted something to remind me of my home town and…" She motioned with her arm. "This is what groundskeeper designed. I have a personal office downstairs that opens into the space. I spend most of my time there when I'm home."

Miranda gazed out over the glass wall. Below her stretched an impressive atrium. The floor was made up of stone. In one corner there was a large orange tree, still in bloom, regardless that it was January. She could hear, but not see, moving water somewhere in the small jungle, which reached from the 3rd floor of the building to the 4th floor they were currently standing on. Miranda looked up. A skylight covered the area.

"Come with me. We'll have that drink." She motioned with her head that they should enter the open door way. Miranda looked back at the atrium. "We can take coffee down there after dinner, if you like."

Miranda nodded and then followed Andréa in a well-appointed sitting room. White, french doors lined the far wall. A large marble fireplace dominated the other and in the center of the room sat two white sofas, facing one another with an oak table, inlaid with a tortoise shell pattern, between them. The color scheme reminded her of her own office at Runway.

Andréa motioned to Miranda to sit down as she walked to the bar discretely tucked away in the corner closest to the door. "What can I get for you?"

Miranda wanted to say a double scotch, neat and then throw it back in a single gulp. Instead she thought of an appropriate aperitif. "A white wine, perhaps?"

"I have the perfect bottle here." Miranda watched as she opened a drawer and pulled out a chilled flask. "It's dry champagne. It's part chardonnay and part pinot noir from Laurent Perrier. Is that alright with you?"

Miranda indicated that yes, it would suffice. She watched as Andréa covered and then popped the cork with a simple twist. None of that complicated fanfare that the movies liked to portray. After pouring to glasses she walked over, handed Miranda hers and then gracefully sat on the opposite sofa. "Santé," they both uttered at the same time, causing Andréa to grin and Miranda to offer her own small smile.

Miranda and Andréa each sipped from their glasses. There was a silence that wasn't uncomfortable but still felt full. Miranda waited for Andréa to break it first but she seemed perfectly content to sit there, drinking her champagne and staring at Miranda.

Miranda still felt overwhelmed. She was used to having a certain power over her acquaintances. She could elevate or destroy a career with a few well-chosen words but as she watched Andréa, she realized there was nothing in her arsenal that could affect her. She lived in a house that was grander than the one Miranda resided in New York. Actually, Miranda briefly thought, this house may be worth more than both her homes, New York and London.

Just as Miranda was going to relent and break the silence Andréa spoke. "Would you like the 10 cent tour?"

Miranda dipped her head once while setting her glass down. "I would," she said, standing up from the sofa. Andréa rose and moved towards the door.

"So this is the sitting room. I don't use it very often." She used her arm, like a game show model, to indicate the area they were currently standing in.

"Why not? It's a perfectly lovely room." Miranda rather liked the room and thought it tastefully designed. Why Andréa would not use it often seemed strange to her.

"Well, it's made for company and when I'm here I'm usually alone." Andréa stepped back into the hallway and waited for Miranda to join her.

So, the husband doesn't travel with her. Maybe he stays home with the daughter. Miranda added the information to the dossier she was mentally compiling.

"Next door," Andréa continued, unknowingly answering questions Miranda hadn't asked yet, "is the formal dining room."

She opened a set of heavily carved wood doors. They swung with ease. Andréa stepped into the room and moved away from the door. Miranda followed. There, in the center of the room, sat a magnificently long table. Its surface gleamed under three large crystal chandlers hanging from a recessed ceiling. Under the table laid a peach and cream oriental rug that stretched from one side of the room to the other, ending half a meter from a great white marble fireplace. The walls were french blue boiseries with paintings of pastoral scenes framed in gold and centered on every other wall section. The ceiling was eggshell and decorated with carved cornices and medallions that had been gilded in gold.

"How very French Andréa. The boiseries are lovely though." Miranda's tone flat, as if it was dreadfully common. It was beautiful but overwrought, in her opinion. She preferred clean lines. The thought of dining alone, just the two of them, in here, was uncomfortable.

"Yes. I know it's very French. I hope you don't mind but I had planned on us eating in a smaller room off the private kitchen. This is for larger gatherings, like business functions or meeting with the Heads of State. Not that I meet with many Heads of State." She rushed to explain. "But if I needed to, I'd use this room."

Miranda noted Andréa said many Heads of State, not any. So she has political power despite being a figure head for her country. Miranda filed away the information.

Miranda waved her hand as if the explanation was unimportant. "Right, moving on." She backed out of the room and shut the doors behind Miranda. They passed a door. Miranda stopped and indicated she'd like to see inside. "Oh." Andréa stopped and looked at the door. "It's just a bathroom."

Miranda raised her eyebrow. "Right." Andréa opened the door into the bathroom. The walls were painted pale green with white boarders. There was the standard toilet and wash basin and a yellow orchid placed on what looked to be a storage cabinet. Miranda nodded and Andréa shut the door.

Miranda gave no impression of being impressed by the vastness of the home but she had been relieved at seeing such a standard bathroom in what had been an extraordinary home. In fact Miranda congratulated herself on seeming completely unaffected by her surroundings. Other than the atrium of course, she had not been able to hide her reaction to that. Even now, she kept sneaking peeks over the glass wall, searching for the source of water that was subtlety filling the air with a soft trickling sound.

They had reached the end of the left side, turned to the right and continued. "This is the household kitchen and small family dining room." Andréa pointed to the two doors. "Did you want to see the upstairs also?"

"I asked to see the house, did I not? Was I unclear? Perhaps you heard me say I only wish to see one small part of the home? That could be the only reason you are asking me to repeat myself." Miranda used her most scathing tone. Truthfully, she hadn't asked but Miranda wasn't one to quibble over unimportant things. Andréa was going to show her everything and answer every question she had before she left this building tonight.

"Great. I was hoping you'd want to see it all. Can you wait a moment? I want to pop my head in and speak to Marie." Andréa was through the door before Miranda had a chance to answer, and before Miranda could follow her, she stepped back out. "Sorry about that I needed to let her know that we'd be a little while and that the smaller dining area would be fine."

Again Miranda raised her eyebrow.

"Oh, uhh, Marie is the cook. She lives downstairs. You'll, umm, meet her later. If you want of course." Andréa seemed to lose her diction.

Interesting Miranda thought. When she glares and uses her frostiest voice Andréa doesn't react at all but a raised eyebrow and she stumbles over her words like it was her first day at Runway. Something to ponder later.

Passing the next two doors, they reached the last door on that side of the hallway. Andréa pushed it open. It was a corner room. It also had French doors lining the northern most wall. Miranda could see, through the partially drawn curtain, the street below and the Seine on the other side of the sidewalk. What a lovely view.

"This is the TV room. I'm not quite sure about anything in here. I guess," she shrugged, "if I wanted to watch TV or a movie, I could do it here. There's some sort of TV behind the paneling there." She pointed to the west wall.

Miranda walked over and spotted a cleverly hidden latch. She pressed it and the panels slid open to reveal an enormous TV. There was also a number of game systems and a Blu-ray player built into the wall. Clever. The girls would love this room, she thought.

"You don't watch TV?" Miranda asked, slightly surprised. Even she, occasionally, watched TV with the girls.

"No. I mean yes. I watch movies now and then but I use my laptop or the small TV in my room for that. I don't think I've ever turned this on." Andréa scrunched her nose as if trying to remember something. "I don't think I've ever been in this room. I mean, after they finished building it, I think."

"So all this is for?" Miranda waited for an answer.

"I didn't really know what to do with this room and someone suggested that it would make a great TV room."

"Someone?" Miranda was sure it was the husband. Husbands always wanted oversized furniture and the latest gadgets. Miranda had spied the PlayStation 4 built into the bank of systems. Her daughters' had received one for Christmas from their father. Miranda looked around. The room was completely devoid of personality. There were no magazines or remotes on the side tables. No toys or games anywhere in sight. No paintings or pictures. Just an extremely large sofa, two end tables and a small coffee table. Tasteful but bland. Either her husband had no personality or neither of them used this room.

"Yeah, but the best room is next door." Andréa's face lit up. She grabbed Miranda by the wrist and pulled her out of the TV room.

Miranda was startled. Andréa seemed to touch her quite often. She didn't remember her being so tactile five years ago.

Three meters from the TV room, down the third hallway, was another set of double doors. Andréa threw them open, like the whole point of the tour was to get to this spot. She grinned at Miranda before stepping through the doorway. Miranda curious to see what "the best room" was, was neither surprised nor dismayed when she entered.

It was a library. With ceilings at least two floors high. Books lined the walls floor to ceiling. Old books, new books, hard cover and paperback. She was sure there was an order to it all, even if she couldn't suss it out at first glance. She looked around the room. Andréa's smile was infectious and without thought, Miranda found herself smiling back.

The room had a fireplace built into the wall. It was as grand as the marble fireplace in the formal dining room. But actually quite modern in design. There were two dark leather chairs, distressed and well loved. They wouldn't have looked out of place in a stereotypical English manor library. The chairs faced the fireplace, inviting you to curl into them with a book, a cup of coffee and enjoy the heat from the fire. On the opposite side of the library were a soft white leather sofa and two more chairs with a glass table between them. Miranda turned and took in the room as a whole. There were two, beautifully wrought iron ladders that could be slid along the bookshelves. Another oriental rug covering most of the wood floor, giving the room a softer, feminine feel, despite the heavy leather chairs near the fireplace. Another set of doors opened out to what looked like a narrow terrace. Enough room for a table and chair, or maybe a sofa she thought.

This felt like a room she would have. It matched almost perfectly with her own decorative tastes.

"Isn't it great?"

For a moment Miranda forgot that Andréa was queen, that she was quite angry with her or that she had a million questions that she needed answers to. Instead Miranda just saw Andréa. Her assistant, who wanted to be a reporter but settled for fetching coffee, the girl who blushed when she walked into a room full of seminude models. The girl from Ohio who had walked around Paris in awe of its dazzling lights. The last thought shook Miranda from her wool gathering. The girl who lied. Dazzled by the light, right, she reminded herself. She practically grew up here. With that thought Miranda quickly lost her smile and stepped back into the hallway.

Andréa stepped out a moment later. She seemed shaken. Good, Miranda thought unkindly. It was time that someone else was unsure.

Andréa closed the doors. Her eyes shined a little in the light and Miranda for a nano-second wondered if she had hurt her feelings. She dismissed such a thought.

"Uh, this is the other bathroom, if you uh, want to umm, see it?" Andréa stumbled through her words and didn't meet Miranda's eyes.

"No. Let's move on." Miranda didn't need to see the other bathroom. She assumed it was as plain and pedestrian as the other.

Miranda watched as Andréa shook her head and then straightened her posture. She motioned to the last door. "This is an access room to the elevator and phone and electrical systems. I believe the maid also keeps a closet full of cleaning supplies and linens here. The door stays locked. I don't imagine there are many differences in broom closets."

"So upstairs are the bedrooms. Are you sure…" Andréa trailed off.

Miranda again lifted an eyebrow.

"Of course you want to see everything."

Miranda wasn't sure why but a little ball of guilt had lodged in her stomach. Gone was the happy tone Andréa had been using so far. She seemed a little sadder, like she was being forced to show the rest of the house. She was, of course, but Miranda reminded herself that she didn't care.

Five years ago the girl had run off and then made a mockery of her recommendation. She had felt guilt then too. It stopped her from black balling her like she should have. Andréa had been so young. She had wanted her to succeed. She didn't want her to starve or take a job at some fast food place to make ends meet. Starve, Miranda thought as they walked up the staircase to the 5th floor. She was never in danger of starving.

Miranda realized they were standing above the foyer now. The elevator doors stood to her left side. The lay out was the same as the floor below. She peaked over the rail and still couldn't see the water feature. She could see that there were a number of rooms around the atrium but a full glass wall separated them from the actual plants and forming an open glass hallway.

Andréa waited for Miranda to take a step back from the rail. Walking down the hall, Andréa pointed to the first 3 doors. "Those are guest rooms. They're almost all the same but you're welcome to look."

Miranda opened the first door. There was a bedroom with what looked like a connected bath. It was a dark blue room with white trim. There was nothing special or amazing in neither this nor the next two rooms she peeked into. A full bed, with fresh linens and well-appointed bath with clean towels and new soap. Disappointed she looked towards the other doors. There were two more.

"This is my daughter's room."

Finally, new information. Miranda eagerly opened the door into the room. It was actually two rooms and a bathroom. The first room had a simple wainscoting around the walls instead of the more elaborate panels downstairs. Pale peach and white were the primary colors. There was a small half size bed in the corner with a gossamer canopy. Next to it was a half size nightstand with a nightlight Miranda knew well.

Cassidy had been afraid of the dark when she was young, frequently waking up in the night and crawling into her bed. Miranda had spoken to a child psychologist about what to do; his only advice had been to get a night light. Honestly, Miranda had been hoping for something more. She contacted a friend of hers who knew of a new must have toy that worked as a night light. At first, she thought it ridiculous, but tried it anyway. Cassidy never climbed into her bed again. It was so popular that Caroline demanded one too. They still have them. Twilight turtle. In gold and green.

Apparently Andréa's child also needed one because there was a purple turtle sitting beside the bed.

Miranda went to step in further to look at some childish drawing that had been tacked to the wall, when Andréa spoke, startling Miranda. "Please."

Miranda turned to look at Andréa and took a step back. Andréa cleared her throat and motioned back towards the staircase. "I believe that concludes the 10 cent tour." Her voice had regained its original carefree tone.

Miranda looked towards the unopened door but Andréa was already walking back towards the stairs. Briefly Miranda thought of just opening the door, just to look, but realized that would appear insane. Instead she followed Andréa back downstairs.

When she reached the doors into the small dining room Andréa stopped and waited for Miranda. Miranda had stopped outside the library doors once more. Miranda looked at them standing closed and swallowed the guilt that swam in her stomach. To hide her reaction she peered over the rail again. She still couldn't see a source of water.

Shaking her head she walked towards Andréa who was waiting. "What are you looking for?"

"The water."

"Water?" Andréa parroted back.

"Yes, I can hear it but not see it." Miranda said back, a little exasperated sounding.

"Oh." Andréa laughed a light tinkling laugh.

Miranda drew herself up. She wouldn't stand being laughed at. Andréa placed her hand on Miranda's forearm and guided her to the rail. "See there." She pointed at a black wall under the library before Miranda could jerk away from her. "It's a water wall. Because it's black, it's hard to see the moving water in the evening and there's no pond under it so there's no splash to draw your attention. When we enter the lower floor the lights will turn on and highlight it. I normally keep the lights off because when I'm in my office or the library I can't see it anyway."

"Where's your office?" Miranda's curiosity about the water finally subdued.

Andréa smiled as she pushed the door open, "Downstairs. We'll see it when we take our coffee in the atrium."

Miranda stepped into the small dining room. The space was lived in and completely unstated. There were 6 chairs around an ordinary oak table. The table was oiled and shining under the recessed lighting but it wasn't anything special. Like the bathroom it was a standard family dining room. Miranda spied a child's booster seat in the corner and a stack of recipe books on a shelf. Miranda could see into the kitchen, which was separated from the dining table by a breakfast bar. The kitchen itself appeared to be all modern with its steel counter tops and white cupboards. The stove top was induction and there was a coffee machine at the end of the bar.

"Thank you Marie. I'll serve." Miranda watched as Marie bowed and backed out of the room.

"Wine?"

Miranda nodded. She watched as Andréa plated their food and opened a bottle of rosé wine from Chateau Barbanau. She set the wine down first and then brought over two seared Tuna Carpaccio with a teriyaki mayonnaise. Andréa poured two glasses of water and set them next to the wine glasses.

"Do you often serve yourself?"

"Yes. Usually. I'm home quite late when I'm in Paris. So I often just eat out or grab whatever is available. Marie usually sets a few meals in the fridge to choose from. Or I make a peanut butter sandwich."

Miranda frowned at the thought of peanut butter. "So much sugar."

"I know, that's what's so great about it."

Miranda looked up, surprised. She didn't realize she had said that out loud.

They continued to eat silently after that.

Andréa removed their plates and wine glasses. She brought out two more wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir. She poured and asked "So how was fashion week?"

"Really Andréa?" Miranda asked dryly. "Are we already to small talk?"

"Well we could just sit here not talking." She walked back into the kitchen and came out with two small cups on two long plates. "It says on the instructions from Marie that it's Mushroom Cappuccino and Icelandic Langoustines."

Miranda looked at the small cup wearily. "It's what?" She pushed it slightly away.

"To be honest I'm not sure but she's not poisoned me yet."

"That's not terribly reassuring."

Miranda watched as Andréa took the first spoonful.

"Oh, it's mushroom soup." And then she processed to demolish the entire cup.

Miranda ate slowly. It was delicious but filling. She sipped the wine between mouthfuls.

She normally sipped at champagne when she was out at parties. She switched out glasses often to give the appearance of drinking but wine had always hit her strongly. After two glasses she switched to sparking water. Very few people ever noticed. This was her third glass of wine in an hour and a half. The effects were noticeable to her.

"So fashion week? Besides René, how did it go?"

Finished with their soup, they both relaxed in the respective chairs. Andréa swirl the wine in her glass before taking a sip. Swirl, sip, and pause. It was mesmerizing. Miranda set her wine glass back on the table. If she found swirling wine to be mesmerizing then she had had enough.

"I'm sure René filled you in on our meeting today." Miranda sniffed like the conversation was below her and she was being drawn into it unwillingly. She was actually interested in how René saw her.

"He did. He said you reacted favorably and he hoped that he would develop a good working relationship with you. He adores you and Runway, so this is a dream come true for him." Andréa replied honestly. "And the rest of the week? Did it live up to your expectations?"

"It surprisingly did. I enjoyed most of what I saw this week and I feel interested in coming back here in a few weeks to see the fall and winter collections." Miranda uncharacteristically answered. It's the wine she thought. It had to be the wine.

"I'm glad to hear that. I know how you hate disappointment." Andréa fell silent as did Miranda. They both thought of five years ago, when Andréa was Miranda's biggest disappointment. Andréa was the first to recover.

"And the girls? How are they doing? They must be getting ready for college." She asked refilling both their wine glasses.

Miranda happy for the change of topic, found herself talking about the twins and how much they'd grown and what they had planned for their future and by the time she stopped talking she had finished another course and another two glasses of wine.

"Marie has made a fruit crème brulee but after that last glass of wine I'm not sure I can handle anymore carbs tonight. Would you like to go to the atrium and have a cup of coffee?"

"That's a lovely idea. Will we also stop by your office?" Miranda took a sip of the still water that had been poured for her at the start of the meal.

"If you like." Andréa replied.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Miranda felt slightly more than tipsy but not quite drunk. She had had more than twice her normal amount and in a very short time. She slowly rose from the table and followed Andréa as she led them towards the staircase.

Thankfully they took the elevator down. As they exited the elevator the area flooded with light. The tops of the trees were lit, the flower beds had small lights tucked into them and the source of her earlier frustration, the water wall, now gleamed in the artificial light.

Miranda took a moment to look around. Andréa took a step back while she bent to inspect an orchid. When she stood again, she turned to ask Andréa a question but the words died in her mouth. Andréa was watching her with such a soft expression that Miranda was hesitant to break the silence. A moment later Andréa shook herself out of what ever thought she had been having.

"The coffee machine's in the kitchen. I can get the coffee if you'd like to sit down over there." She pointed to a previously unseen table and chairs.

Miranda had a moment of confusion. Why hadn't they taken the coffee with them? She looked up at the room they had just left. Andréa, correctly interpreting her look, answered the unasked question.

"There's a professional kitchen down here." She pointed to the doors at the back of the atrium. "That's the staff quarters." She waved her hands toward the doors that lined the hallways, separated by the glass atrium walls. "If they wish to live here, there is a series of rooms provided for them."

"How many staff live here now?" Miranda looked at the doors counting four on each side.

"There are three here now. But I also have quarters on the second floor for my security staff. Two are full time and three travel with me. So another five people are currently in residence." Andréa nodded as if she was satisfied with her accounting. "So coffee?"

"I'll accompany you if you don't mind."

"Be honest Miranda."

Miranda looked shocked at the charge she was being dishonest.

"You just want to see the kitchen and know all my secrets." Andréa laughed as she walked away.

Miranda smiled. She followed Andréa out of the atrium and into the glass hallway. There was a stainless steel door to their right. Andréa pushed it open. It was a swinging door which surprised her and yet made total sense. Inside the room was a gleaming professional kitchen. It could have been in any restaurant anywhere in the world. There were steamers and fryers, bread ovens and a dozen appliances she had no name for. All gleaming in their stainless steel glory.

Andréa walked up to another coffee maker. A replica of the one upstairs. Jura. Not that Miranda knew anything about it, but it seemed serviceable.

"Skim, latte, without foam?"

Miranda nodded and watched as Andréa spun a dial on the top of the machine. She used a touch pad to select the grind, the temperature and foam levels and then added in the amount of milk desired. Miranda watched as she hit select and a moment later a tall latte filled the glass Andréa had slid under the spout.

A second glass and a single button pressed, Andréa also had her own drink.

Miranda peered at the machine in closer detail. It was exquisite. She took a sip of her coffee. Perfect. She looked at it again.

"It's Swiss."

Miranda made a note to look into one. The machine she had at home needed replacing. It no longer produced coffee as hot as she liked.

"Come on. We'll go sit in the garden."

Miranda followed Andréa out but not before she looked once more at the coffee machine. Jura Giga. She made a mental note to research it.

They settled into the chairs. The water providing a soothing background sound as they sipped at their coffees.

Neither Andréa nor Miranda spoke. They just sipped and thought.

When the cups were empty. Andréa stood. "Come, I'll show you my office."

Miranda went with her. The effects from the alcohol had subsided while she had drunk her coffee. She had been thinking about how this night had gone. She felt as if she had been oscillating between anger, guilty and awe. The fact that this had been one of the more pleasant dinner she had had in recent memory, had not helped her settle her emotions. Something about this woman had always flummoxed her. And now she was following her into the last room of the house. This was the end and Miranda had not a single explanation for the last 5 years.

Andréa opened the door to the right of the kitchen. It stood directly across from the atrium and Miranda understood what Andréa meant earlier about not seeing the water feature. Although the bulk of the greenery could be seen, if you left the door open, the sides of the atrium were out of view.

"I'd offer you something to drink, "she motioned to the bar on the left, "but I think both of us are better off with water or a soda. Would you like water, or something else to drink?"

"Water would be fine." Miranda looked around. There was a sofa on the right side of the room, two chairs across from it and a small table between the chairs and sofa. A small bookshelf stood against the left wall next to the small bar, along with a small file cabinet. Andréa's desk was made of heavy carved oak. A laptop was lying on top of it, closed.

There were framed pictures all around the room. Miranda stepped closer to one, realizing this is what she had been looking for in this giant house. There was a picture of Andréa and an older woman, both wearing crowns. Another of her wearing a Northwestern jumper next to a young man with curly black hair. A candid picture of Andréa and her Emily. There were picture of Stanford and holidays. Of people Miranda knew and some that she didn't. A dozen pictures of a little girl around two. A couple of Andréa holding an infant. None of the man who was her husband. All the answers to her question but none of the context.

"Here." Andréa broke Miranda's concentration as she stared at a black and white picture of a little girl laughing. Other than her blonde hair, the child was a mirror image of the woman handing her a glass.

"We should sit down." Andréa sat on one of the chairs, while Miranda took the sofa.

Miranda stared at Andréa waiting for the answers.

"I'm sorry. I owe you an explanation for everything. I wanted to tell you when I left New York but by then I didn't know what to say and it's not like I could call you up out of the blue and just tell you. I didn't tell anyone."

"Is that supposed to be better, Andréa?" Miranda dragged out her name anger, coloring her voice. "Is it better that you abandoned your friends too? Is it supposed to make it all better that you were sorry that you lied to every person you came in contact with?"

Years of anger and disappointment filled Miranda. A white hot rage, unlike any she had ever known filled her. In that instant she could have strangled Andréa. Her anger knew no bounds and she unleashed it the only way she knew how.

"Is this the time you've set aside to humiliate me and yourself? Show and tell, dinner and then this? You wanted me to see your house. Was I supposed to be impressed? Maybe be grateful that I could say I knew you when you wore sweaters that should have been made into rags? Was it fun to play dress up in pauper's clothing and have to work for a few months?" Insult after insult flew from Miranda's lips with cold, quiet accuracy. And Andréa sat there, doing nothing, not even crying, which only fueled Miranda's anger until finally she stood.

With every intention of leaving, Miranda took a step towards the door. Andréa's hand shot out and gripped her arm. "If you are quite done I'll answer your questions now."

Miranda had no intention of sitting down and listening to Andréa and what every self-serving explanation she was going to say. She moved to pull away but Andrea pulled her back towards her. Miranda, not expecting any sort of physical response stumbled into Andréa's arms and was pulled unceremoniously into her lap. Miranda struggled to free herself.

"Sit still and I'll let you go. You've had your say and now it's my turn. Sit still."

Miranda stilled and was slowly released. She sat in the chair opposite of Andréa. The anger that had flooded her system, receded and then rushed back again.

If glares could kill Andréa would have died on the spot. No one had ever laid a hand on her, and this woman had the nerve to do so, and then command her like a dog to sit.

Miranda sat deathly still and glared. Daring Andréa to begin explaining herself.

Andréa took a deep breath and stood, pacing. "You make everything so damn hard. I had decided to let this all go and move on but then René wanted this life and with it comes you. I knew we'd meet. I tried to avoid it. I thought if I didn't come here now. If I didn't come to René's show or party…" Andréa for the first time that night, showed signs of anger and hurt. She ran her hands through her hair and dragged in another breath.

Miranda on the other hand had lost hers. The anger that had been filling and receding and then filling her again, flowed completely away. If she hadn't come to the show or the party, Miranda wouldn't have seen her again. This dinner wouldn't have happened and she would have looked for chestnut colored hair and warm chocolate eyes in every crowd for the rest of her life. She would have never known what had happened that made her assistant run and disappear when she had offered the world to her.

Miranda found her voice and breath. "Start at the beginning and don't leave anything out."

Andréa's head snapped up and met Miranda's eyes. She nodded once and then sat. She took a long sip of her water and began telling her life story.

"I was 15 when my grandmother came to visit me in San Francisco. My father had died two years before. I never saw him. He'd send me gifts for my birthday and Christmas, but that was the only interaction we had ever had. I had never met my grandmother…" Andréa told Miranda about Lily and princess lessons. Miranda smiled at the make over and Pablo breaking her glasses. She grew upset, that even then, Andréa's friends weren't friends at all and her mother didn't fight hard enough for her at school. Instead she dated a teacher. If some cheerleader pushed one of her daughters around she'd sue the school so fast that their heads would spin. Media crews and tabloid press hounding a 15 year old. Shameful.

Andréa told her about coming to Genovia every summer and studying. She needed to learn all the laws, the politics, who the crown supported and who it didn't. It seemed like an awful way to grow up.

She told Miranda about Stanford and the classes she hated. About turning 21 and her grandmother finding a suitable consort for her. Arranged marriage at 21? Was this a third world country? She told of a political coup and her success in avoiding both the loss of the crown and the escape of her marriage.

Miranda listened as she told the story about rejecting Stanford Law and applying to Medill at Northwestern. Of begging for more time. To learn to be herself. Of losing herself in a fake persona. Of the boyfriend who only saw her as Andy the girl next door. "We could have never worked. He thought I was busy working for you. He'd never live with my schedule now. And to be called Consort. His ego wouldn't have survived."

"That was then Andréa. What about now?" Miranda's voice was softer, more understanding. Andréa may have had privilege and money, but the responsibility heaped onto her shoulders at 16 was too much. She would never have made her daughters face that kind of decision at 16. She wasn't even old enough to vote.

"Now I have my daughter. And a business that I like."

"And a husband." Miranda reminded her, although the thought bothered her greatly.

"And an ex-husband Miranda."

"I was under the impression that you were still married."

"No. We divorced last year. There was an incident." Andréa explained.

"Incident?" Miranda repeated.

"I should start at the beginning."

"I already told you to leave nothing out. You know how much I love repeating myself." Miranda intoned drolly and then smirked.

"Right, of course. Sorry Miranda." Andréa looked up through her eye lashes and then smiled in jest.

Miranda's breath caught unexpectedly at the look and what started as a small joke, The Editor and The Assistant, turned into something else.

Neither looked away at that moment, when they should have. Neither spoke, when it would have been wiser too and neither laughed to break the spell. They sat there, drawing the moment out, imbibing it with a seriousness that neither could deny.

It was the sound of a police car outside which finally released them from a spell of their own making. Andréa drew in a shaky breath.

"So, uh." She blew out forcefully. "I, umm. I had just come home from New York. My grandmother had had a stroke. She was fine but I no longer had the luxury of running away from my responsibility. She officially retired as Regent and I was crowned Queen."

"Then the problems started. I wasn't interested in marriage, and although my kingdom had agreed that I could choose my own husband, they wanted me to do so sooner than later. I was no longer a girl of 21 but rather a woman of 26 and the game had changed."

"The man I had been arranged to marry was of the right social station. He had lands and title in England but no claim to the throne. Now that Prince William has had a son, I think he's 127th in line. Or he was. He renounced his claim when we married. It was the perfect match on paper. He didn't mind that I didn't love him and he didn't love me."

"I've found that marriages are not like business agreements and rarely work out when treated as one." Miranda interjected. She didn't really want to hear the story of Andréa getting married anymore, but before she could ask a question that could lead them away from this topic, Andréa had returned to telling it.

"Well ours didn't work out. Or it did if you speak to the right people." Andréa shrugged. "I got pregnant after 4 months. We shared a bed so infrequently that it was a surprise to us both. He was in love with the idea of being a father. I didn't love him but I did care for him. He had convinced himself that he loved me and I'd come around in time. Why do people always want to change who you are?" Andréa asked rhetorically. "Beatrice was a month early and I almost died during child birth."

Miranda sucked in a breath.

"The doctors said I'll never have more children. Bea's enough for me but I wish I had been able to have at least one more. Not because she should have a sister or brother but in case she wants to do something else with her life. Now she's 3 years old and her life is already set in stone." Andréa stopped speaking and took a sip of her water.

Miranda could feel her own sympathy well up for Andréa's daughter.

"So, anyway, things were okay. I was happy with having only one child. Michael was in love with Bea. We were the happy royal family." Andréa made a face at that statement.

"Bea was a little over a year old when I had taken her with me for the day. It was around 11 and she started to feel warm, so I decided it was better to go home and not risk her getting sick. And that's when the Incident happened. I caught him and my former secretary together. I would have swept it under the rug with all the other skeletons we had both put there, but he came to me that night and confessed. She was 3 months pregnant and she was keeping the baby. We had a row. And then divorced."

"I still see him. Things are better between us now. He is free to leave Genovia whenever he likes but Bea can never be with him. So he lives there, on my grounds, with his new wife."

"I'm not sure I could have someone who betrayed me live that close to me."

"Well I have 320 acres of land; we don't bump into each other unless it's by design. Besides I hurt him too."

"Well, you're far more forgiving than I would have been. The girls will be 18 in two months and I have not spoken face to face with their father since they were four."

"Like I said I hurt him too."

Andréa stood and refilled her glass. "Would you like more coffee or another glass of water?"

"Coffee would be lovely but only if you show me how to use that machine."

Andréa smiled and then laughed. "Deal."

They walked back into the kitchen. Miranda watched as Andréa explained the buttons and knobs. The screens that lit up and the programing features. She watched her, not the machine.

"What is it you do Andréa? Besides run a country? You said you were very busy. Busier than when you worked for me? What is it you do?" Miranda's voice trailed off to a whisper, her lips centimeters from Andréa's. If Andréa hadn't turned her head to meet Miranda's eyes when Miranda started speaking, there would have been a respectable distance between them. But she had, and now there wasn't. All she had to do was lean forward. Andréa licked her lips and swayed towards her. And then the coffee machine started grinding the beans. Miranda shook herself out of the moment and took two steps back.

Andréa turned back towards the machine, running a hand through her hair. Just like René, Miranda noticed. She wondered if that meant she was nervous like her cousin had been.

As soon as the machine stopped Andréa handed Miranda the cup and then leaned back against the counter top.

"I make batteries and thermal control systems"

What? Miranda thought. Miranda blinked to clear her mind, and then asked when she found her voice "Did you get an engineering degree also?"

"Well, no. I should say my company makes solar batteries and thermal control systems that prolong the life of satellites by 5 years or more."

"I fail to see how this is possible. Explain." Miranda commanded.

"Can we go back to the study?"

Miranda waved her fingers signaling to Andréa to proceed.

"Genovia is famous for its pears."

"Pears?"

"Yes. Pears." She said as they took their seats in the office. "There are a lot of other things also but pears are our specialty. Now it doesn't take a genius to figure out that if there are 2 or more years of bad weather, or a drop in prices, our economy will suffer."

"So when I took over as Queen I started to propose ideas to members of parliament. We opened up ski resorts and expanded our agriculture programs, but still we were dependent on weather and other people's purchasing power."

"In 2010 there was a little company in the capital, Life Systems. The owner came to me and asked if we could have a sit down meeting to discuss a new venture he wished to embark on. I took the meeting and he explained that he had been working on a solar battery for years and he now wanted to build one, but there was no bank that would loan him money."

"Why would he come to you?"

"Besides the fact I'm Queen?" Miranda nodded. "The Royal family controls all the banks in Genovia and has a regent fund of a little over one billion euros. I am the Royal family."

Miranda leaned back in her chair and held up her hand. She needed to digest that. She, personally, had a significant amount of wealth. She could retire tomorrow, and still leave enough for her children to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, but what she had was nowhere near a billion dollars, let alone a billion euros. Realizing that the amount was too high to comprehend at the moment she waved Andréa on.

"So he came to me for a loan. But I don't loan out money. Instead I bought his company. 51% of it. He and a board of directors control the other 49%. I acts as CEO and I get to use my language skills and International Policy degree to facilitate contracts between different governments. My writing skills are also handy. I write all the manuals for the average person."

"Life Systems is now the leading designer of solar batteries that are specifically used for all major satellites and thermal control systems that prolong the life a satellite, leading to less space junk."

Miranda watched Andréa as she explained. If she were a dog, her tail would be wagging. She really loves it, Miranda realized. Traveling and working. It wasn't a pastime. Or something she did because she was bored. She found a way to be Queen and have a career.

"So you found a way to save the world? Solar batteries and space junk?"

Andréa grinned. "Yep and it only cost me 100 million euros in startup cash."

"That doesn't seem like a good investment."

"Well it's been only four years and the company is worth more than it was when I invested. Most importantly it brings jobs to my people and isn't dependent of weather."

"I see."

Miranda finished her coffee and stood. "I must go now. It's far later than I had anticipated."

"I understand Miranda. I had a lovely time." Andrea walked with her through the atrium.

Miranda curled her lip and raised an eyebrow in disbelief as they stepped into the elevator.

"Okay I had a mostly lovely time and I'd like to have dinner with you again."

Miranda watched as Andréa produced an electronic fob and slid it over the sensor. Miranda agreed it had been a mostly wonderful evening.

"I wouldn't be against that." She replied coolly as the elevator descended.

"Good night Miranda."

Andréa went to kiss her left cheek and Miranda, miss read the signals, she turned head just a little too far to the left and the gentle bussing that was planned turned into a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Andréa blushed but Miranda just took a step back. "Good night Andréa."

She slid into the waiting car and was back in her hotel room within 15 minutes. She undressed and prepared for bed. As she crawled between her sheets she thought about Andréa and the almost kiss. And then it hit her, she should have turned fully into those lips. It's what she had wanted to do in the kitchen also. She wanted to kiss Andréa.