The day dawned early and Miranda rose slowly. She hadn't had time to look over the book last night. She instead awoke an hour earlier than usual. She dragged herself into the shower and turned the water to hot and high. The water beat down on her as she leaned her forehead against the cool tile. She had not had a restful night. There were too many issues to deal with and problems to solve. Thankfully Emily and Nigel buttoned down the last of the details for the photo shoot yesterday so she could clear that from her mental check list. It seemed that every year, the to-do list was longer and the days were shorter. Miranda finished in the shower and prepared to greet her day.
As Miranda came into the kitchen the new coffee machine came into view. Taking a moment to look it over she figured out what went where. She walked over the fridge and took out the container of skim milk. She set it into the container. Selecting her preferred beverage she pressed select. The coffee poured out just like it had at Andréa's. Perfect. Miranda decided to stay in the kitchen and look over the book. An hour later Agnes walked in.
"Do you know how long it took me to figure out that machine?" She offered Miranda in lieu of a good morning. "I had to mess with it for 20 minutes. If you're going to replace things you need to tell me. Next thing you know I'll come in here and the stove will be gone and then where we be."
"Good morning Agnes." Miranda offered the woman without looking up. "I don't understand what you're talking about. I just pushed a button and everything was fine."
"Of course it was fine. I programmed it for you. You need coffee if you are going to survive the next two weeks. I'll make you breakfast now while you go change."
Miranda took that as her cue and went upstairs to finish dressing for the day.
After another cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled egg whites and toast, Miranda was picked up and delivered to work.
Her day went downhill from there. As she entered the building, Nigel called her. There was a usb stick with 6 photos missing from his office. She entered the elevator and her phone rang again. Kanye's manager had gotten her number from someone and called to tell her that Kanye wanted to meet with her before his photo shoot on Thursday. As she stepped off the elevator Jolene greeted her with the news that two advertisers had not renewed their contracts and that the marketing department as a whole did not want to face her wrath, instead had passed the message to Jolene via text message.
"Call Kanye's manager and explain there would be no meeting and if he called her direct line instead of the office line again, she would personally make sure that A.P.C. was never featured in any magazine ever. Then call marketing. I want Thomas and Silva in my office in the next fifteen minutes. Have Mark go help Nigel. I want those dresses found before 9. Have Serena come by at 10 with the samples I gave her yesterday. I want to see Jocelyn today at 1030 and have lunch delivered at 11:30 today." Miranda tossed her jacket and purse on Rebecca's, her second assistant's, desk.
It was going to be a long day.
It was 7 o'clock when she finally had a moment to breath. Six meetings, a dozen problems and a bevy of last minute choices that all had to be decided today. It was only Tuesday and already Miranda was tired. Miranda took a sip of her fresh coffee when she remembered Andréa. She should send an email thanking her. Miranda found her email address and thought about how to word the letter.
Dear Andréa,
My weekend was quite satisfying, thank you for asking. The coffee machine was an extremely, if unexpectedly, well-timed gift. I have already put it to good use.
You, of course, were wrong, neither the woman nor the man was okay in that video but it was informative never the less.
Sincerely,
Miranda
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were nearly the same as Monday and Tuesday. A million issues packed into days that never lasted long enough. At least Nigel's photo shoot went well and the pictures would work perfectly in May's summer issue. As she knew they would.
Miranda let herself into the house at 10 on Friday. The girls were out with friends and would be staying overnight. They'd spend Sunday together. Miranda swung by the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. It really was a great addition to her kitchen, which reminded her that she hadn't heard from Andréa.
Taking her coffee and the book into her office, she flipped on the pc while opening to page 215. She circled and set a post it on the top. "TOO RED." She flipped the page. 216, fine, 217 fine, 218 "MISSING COMMA." 219 fine, 220… and so on and so on. When she reached the end of the book she started to go through her recent emails. As she scrolled down she saw an email from Andréa. Clicking it, Miranda read her response.
Chère Miranda,
I am sorry it's taken so long to respond. It's been very busy here with the rains that are decimating my country. Thankfully no one was hurt with the recent avalanche and mudslides we have been experiencing with this warm winter weather.
I am happy to hear that the coffee machine was well received and immediately put to use. New York Fashion Week starts next Thursday and I could only guess that coffee would be appreciated. Worse case scenario was that you hated the machine and gave it to Nigel. I know his coffee addiction almost rivals yours.
How has your week been so far? I've been up to my knees in mud. And after looking at that video again, I bow to your superior criticism. I'm glad you found it informative.
Cordialement à vous,
Andréa
Miranda decided to email back right away.
Dear Andréa,
I'm sorry to hear about your countries recent troubles. It's a relief to hear that no one was injured. Why were you up to your knees in mud? Are you also the head of your National Guard?
I would sooner buy Nigel a year's supply of Starbucks then give him the coffee machine. I find the coffee to be equal to Starbucks and the convenience of having it ready 24 hours a day with the press of a button was a godsend this week.
This week has been long. Fashion Week, and the week before it arrives, is always a busy time for us. I look forward to relaxing in London. It will be nice to sit and watch Harold and Caroline have a turn at running around and dealing with models, photographers, press and the designers.
It's like herding cats.
Sincerely,
Miranda
Miranda clicked send before she changed her mind. The first email was to say thank you but now she was… What was she doing? Small talk? She had decided to not think about Andréa until her turn to Paris and here she was trading banter in the form of emails. She shook her head. Two emails. She logged out of her account.
Miranda then turned off her computer and went to bed. She had another day of work before she'd be free to enjoy Sunday with her daughters.
The weekend passed in a blurry of paperwork, deadlines and a disappointing trip with the twins to the New York MOMA. At least when they went out for dinner that evening the food had been acceptable. Cassidy was far more upset than Miranda herself, railing against the waste of film, as the paparazzi had hounded them in and out of the museum. Caroline had just pointed out that when the twins attended different schools in different countries, it would make it more difficult for the photographers to identify them. "Instead" she pointed out, "they'd most likely be told they looked like someone famous. Because now photographers just looked for twins with red hair."
Then Caroline proceeded to remind them all of the time they were swarmed by a group of tourists because they thought they were the twins from The Parent Trap and no matter what they said no one believed them. The girls laughed about that. They had spent the afternoon making up answers to questions about working with Dennis Quaid and Natasha Richardson. The tourist just wouldn't believe that they weren't Lindsay Lohan and that she didn't have a twin.
After arriving at work, providing her list of things to do to Jolene and discarding her coat, Miranda turned on her pc to check her email. Nothing from Andréa. Miranda chastised herself. She had far too much work to be sitting here waiting for emails. She turned away from her pc and instead looked through the contact sheets Nigel had dropped off sometime last night or today.
After lunch, as she flipped through the new layout, she saw an email pop up from Andréa. Setting her work aside, she opened it.
Chère Miranda,
Am I Head of the National Guard? Yes, actually. We have no standing army so our only defense is volunteers. What kind of Queen would I be if I asked my subjects to do something I would not do? Thankfully we have not been at war since 1958 when we finally signed a peace treaty with Germany. We had originally been forgotten in the peace treaty ending World War II until then.
But in this case it wasn't the National Guard that landed me in the mud. With all the heavy rain, my land has become water logged in some areas. I was helping free two of my horses from a particularly muddy area. Unfortunately, the very next day, half my sheep got free from their pens and ended up scattered over the countryside. I've just spent four days crawling through brush and bramble to find them all.
I saw you and the girls in the paper today. Did you enjoy the MOMA? It was one of my favorite places to visit while I lived in the city.
Although I've never herded cats, I imagine it's a bit like leading petty politicians. This week I wish to dismiss my entire parliament and have re-elections. Technically, I could but the headache of a constitutional crisis is just not worth it.
You mention Caroline in charge of the London Show. I'm guessing your daughter has not been chosen to run the British Fashion Council. Although she couldn't have done worse than last year's council.
Andréa
P.S. I've enclosed a picture that René took after I finished dragging back the last sheep.
Miranda clicked open the picture and had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing out loud. There was Andréa in a field of mud. Her hair was windblown. There was a streak of mud on her forehead and cheek. Her face was ruddy from being outside. The wool sweater had seen better days. Its front had a wet looking brown spot that covered most of the fabric. She was wearing a pair of brown riding pants that were tucked in high black boots. While you couldn't see the back of her pants, the sides were completely caked in mud, leading one to guess that she had fallen over at least once. A small looking, bedraggled sheep was escaping her grasp as she threw her head back and laughed. She was a mess and Miranda found herself running a thumb over the picture before she could stop herself. Miranda wrote back.
Dear Andréa,
Sheep herding looks a bit messier than cat herding, as that is mainly an indoor sport. I'm enjoying the picture immensely and have plans of framing it.
You're Queen, head of the National Guard , C.E.O of a company and sheep herder. Is there nothing you won't try?
As for my Caroline, she is not running Fashion Week. I privately agree with you she could have done a better job than the BFC did last year but Caroline Rush is working along Harold Tillman so I expect things will be better this year.
I too enjoy the MOMA but Sunday's visit wasn't as pleasant as I had hoped. With Fashion Week only 3 days away the paparazzi are rabid. We were ambushed by a group of 10 camera welding stalkers on our way into and out of the museum. I'm sure a few of them tailed us through the inside too but the guards helped with enforcing the no flash photograph rule.
Why do you want to disband your government? Although, if they are anything like the board of directors here, I could understand the impulse to have them booted out the door.
Miranda
Miranda looked at the photo once more and then printed from her personal printer. "Jolene, find me a frame." Miranda called out to the front desks. Miranda smiled again and then turned her mind back to her work. A million things to do…
Miranda didn't hear anything back from Andréa although she did check her pc more than once. The picture of Andréa sat on her desk at home, next to the one she kept of her daughters. She went to bed, tired but pleased. The day had gone well.
Miranda walked into Runway, tossed her coat to the second assistant and went straight to her pc. Jolene was already running errands. Miranda had called her from the car to save time. There was no email from Andréa. Miranda felt a momentary twinge of disappointment. No matter, she thought. There was only two days left before Fashion Week.
Miranda checked her email multiple times before lunch. She was staying on top of problems. That's all. There was no email from Andréa that day. She fired Silva from marketing.
Tired and drained Miranda dragged herself home. It was only 9 but she was exhausted. She didn't need to go over the book tonight because she had been able to edit it while waiting for Nigel to finish editing an article she wanted to place in between photo layouts. She turned on her pc out of habit. Miranda looked at her email. There were three new emails from Emily confirming a variety of bookings, two from Jolene, one confirming her vacation plans at The Viceroy in Anguilla. Miranda opened it. It was a four bedroom villa on an island in the Caribbean. Tropical, private and relaxing. There were enough things for the girls to do but the island itself seemed rather undeveloped. Good. There wouldn't be too many paparazzi to deal with then. Miranda printed the brochure, she'd let the girls look over it, and saved the email. As she went to click the email from Emily, Andréa's name popped up. She smiled, feeling less tired, and clicked it open.
Chère Miranda,
You had it framed? Really? I don't know if I'm pleased or worried.
I'm not sure if my parliament is as bad as your board. Right now they are delaying spending for clean-up of the major towns and our city. It's the people's tax money. I believe it should be used to help the people who need it. Eventually it will get done but they drag it out forever.
There are many things I haven't tried but herding is not one of them. My Grandmother demanded that I learn about all the animals we have on our land. I've spent countless hours mucking stables, feeding the pigs, shearing sheep, hauling hay, etc.
Her reasoning was that if the Queen OF England could work as a mechanic during World War II, I could at least learn how to take care of my own animals. I think it was supposed to be a lesson in humility and work ethic. Which worked of course, but I don't think she was expecting that I'd enjoy it so much that if I'm not working in the office or home, you can find me cleaning stables and feeding animals outside. I like helping out.
According to my secretary it's good publicity. The Queen saving sheep and freeing horses, shows a sense of solidarity with the common man.
Have you ever done anything to generate good publicity?
Andréa
Miranda smiled and began typing. There was a knock on her door. "Come in." She minimized the email window as Caroline walked in.
"Hello honey, what can I do for you?"
"Your home early mom. How's the week going?" Caroline asked.
"Fine, fine," Miranda waved her hands. "It's busy like it always is but next week should go smoothly. Would you like to look over the resort I've picked out for us to visit during Spring Break?"
Caroline took the printed pamphlet and looked it over. "It's great but why 4 rooms?"
"There isn't a smaller villa and this has its own pool and a place for a chef to come in and prepare meals while we're there. I'm sure you and Cassidy could each bring a friend if you think it's too boring with just the three of us." Miranda explained. She hoped to just spend the time with the girls but she realized that they would be 18 and both would probably want to hang out with people their own age instead of her.
"I don't want to bring anyone but Cass might. She's been glued to her pc all week. Mathew has been emailing and texting her all the time. She always has this stupid look on her face and she's printed like a million pictures of him. She's like the over-attached girlfriend without being the girlfriend." Caroline rolled her eyes.
Just then Cassidy walked in.
"What's this about a boy named Matthew?" Miranda asked.
Cassidy blushed and then glared at her sister. "It's nothing. We're just friends. He's like totally funny and smart and he like, gets me. We just hang out and stuff."
"So you're not dating?" Miranda asked slightly unsure. It sounded like dating.
"No, we're…" Cassidy started to say.
"You totally want to be though. You have like every picture of him and I've seen the way you watch him. Admit it. You want to kiss him. You're like totally flirting." Caroline interrupted her sister.
"Shut up Caro!" Cassidy yelled.
"Both of you stop. Caroline stop teasing your sister. Cassidy stop yelling. Now finish what you were saying Cassidy." Miranda stopped the two from bickering.
"I was saying," she paused, to glare at her sister. "That we aren't dating. Maybe a little flirting but it's nothing yet. We just really enjoy talking and I like him. A lot, but right now we're just friends."
Miranda nodded okay. "Tell me if it changes."
"I will. Anyway I just came in to say good night. Will we have dinner together next Thursday? After the shows finish up?" Cassidy asked.
"Of course we can but wouldn't you rather go out on Friday?" Miranda flipped though her desk calendar, circling 6pm Thursday.
"Mom," Cassidy said. "Friday's Valentine's Day. We both have plans."
"Right. So it is." Miranda answered. "Okay then Thursday. Pick where and I'll arrange it."
Cassidy kissed Miranda's cheek. "Good night mom."
"Good night, darling. Oh Caroline has the brochure for the resort I've picked out for Spring Break."
"Okay. I'll look at it tomorrow."
"Good night mom." Caroline picked up the brochure to take with her and kissed Miranda's cheek. Just like her sister did.
"Good night honey. Sleep well and stop picking on your sister." Caroline just grinned and left the room.
Those two, Miranda shook her head. She maximized her email again. Cassidy and Caroline's words came back to her. I like him a lot. We just talk and maybe flirt a little. A million pictures. Miranda looked over at the framed picture on her desk. We email and talk. She's glued to her pc and emails him all the time.
Miranda pushed herself away from her desk. What is she doing? First she wasn't going to have any contact or think about Andréa until Paris. Now she's checking her email often. Miranda was honest with herself. It was more than often. She looked at her email every hour, sometimes multiple times in an hour. When Andréa didn't email her earlier today, she was miserable but as soon as the email came, she was smiling. She can't do this.
She erased the email she had begun writing and typed out a new one.
Andréa,
How you feel about me printing your picture is up to you. I personally use it as a charming reminder that no matter how high you climb in life you're one step away from landing in the muck.
Positive PR. Of course. What did you think my last relationship was. It may have not worked out but then most things in life don't.
Miranda
With the email sent Miranda turned off her pc. She wouldn't be dragged into the muck because a charming woman made her smile. Miranda decided to go to bed. She suddenly felt extremely exhausted again.
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