Chapter Ten
— Six months later —
"Okay, Miranda, our time is up almost for today," he said. "I know I've been saying this for the past few weeks, but really, I don't think you need to maintain this frequency."
"I can afford it. I think it helps," she said.
"How have the nightmares and flashbacks been? You haven't mentioned them, so I presume they disappeared."
"Not entirely. There are still flashbacks, but not of Stephen or his body. It's her. It's as if I can feel her and smell her, but I can't see her face."
"Oh, well that is interesting. What are you doing when you get those flashbacks?"
Miranda blushed and looked at her hands in her lap. "Sleeping—err, laying in bed. It's right before I fall asleep."
"Have you thought any more about reaching out to her? You've made such remarkable progress with everyone else in your life. I really think that a conversation with her would be the final step to bring you peace."
"I have peace. It's her…"
"What is it? You can say it."
"No, it's ridiculous. I can't."
"Miranda, you know as well as I that if you can't say it during therapy, we have bigger issues at hand," he warned.
She sighed and straightened in the chair. "I want her back in my life. That's all."
"And what have you done to try and get there?"
"Nothing. I know. I'm just…I don't want to turn the memories sour. If all I have to hold onto are flashbacks of her arms around me, it's better than remembering her laughing at me or walking away."
Dr. Thomas Prindle took a deep breath as he leaned back into his chair. "It sounds like you're afraid she will laugh at you, think you're a foolish old woman," he said.
Miranda pursed her lips and shrugged.
"You're not. And I think you might be surprised by her if you let her in. Not all twenty-somethings are insensitive. There are genuine, caring, people out there, and I think you and I both know that she cared about you," he said.
"But she hasn't even tried to call or email me," Miranda whined. She shook her head and stood from the chair. "Look, I'm in a good place when I don't think about her too much. I have a great relationship with my daughters for the first time in my life, my ex-husband is a supportive co-parent, and I've managed to get my staff in a place where they're not too scared of me. I'm not going to go searching for unhappiness. I am happy. If she contacts me, then maybe I'll think about it, but until then, just let me enjoy this."
Thomas nodded. "Sounds like a fair assessment," he said. "I don't mean to rush you, but I do have another patient waiting. Was there anything else?"
"No, that's all," she said. She reached out and shook his hand. "As always, thank you for listening to me, Thomas."
Later that afternoon, Miranda entered the townhouse carrying three bags of groceries. "Girls? A little help?" she called.
Cassidy came running to the door and took two bags from Miranda. "Sorry, Mom. We didn't hear you."
"It's okay, thanks," she said, shutting the door behind her.
"What's for dinner?"
"I picked up some angel hair pasta and fresh mozzarella. I thought we could use those tomatoes and basil from the garden," Miranda said, setting her things down on the kitchen counter.
"This looks like more than pasta and cheese," Caroline said, joining them in the kitchen. She helped her sister unload the bags and put the groceries away in the fridge and pantry.
"I bought the ingredients for creme puffs so we could make them on Saturday, and then some snacks in case we decide to do a picnic Sunday," Miranda said as she quickly checked her email.
"Are we having a party? I thought that creme puff recipe makes hundreds of them," Cassidy said.
Miranda smiled. "We can make a few different varieties—vanilla, chocolate, banana, maybe lemon—and whatever we don't want, I'll take to work on Monday for the production team. They've been putting in a lot of extra hours this week, and they loved the little cheesecakes we sent a few weeks ago," she said. "Caroline, honey, can you please put the water on in the big pot to boil? I have to make one quick phone call."
"Sure," she said, digging the pot out from one of the lower cabinets.
Miranda walked into the living room to make her call. "Where are we at with the cover?"
"Hi Miranda, you're on speaker," Nigel said. "We have it narrowed down to two photos, either of which would work for the cover, though they might be a bit too dramatic for an interior page."
"Do you have them up in front of you?" Emily asked. "I emailed them ten minutes ago."
"I do not," Miranda said calmly.
"Right. Well, in both photos, Kate is wearing the Siriano white sheer crop-top and full midi skirt. They look amazing," Emily said.
"In photo A," Serena continued, "she's wearing a sun hat, and her arm is up, holding it down against the wind. She's laughing, and it's really stunning. Photo B is without the hat. She's wearing the red Asos bow heels, and she has her hands on her hips, looking straight on the camera."
"Which shoes are in A? Neutral?" Miranda asked.
"Sort of—the pale mint Jimmy Choos," Nigel said.
"Can we do a close-up of photo A for the cover, then use B for the interior page, but scale it down sixty percent or so? And use it for a 'Get the look without breaking the bank' feature? I know H&M had a midi skirt like that, and we could pair it with a Free People or DKNY top. There are probably some Madden heels, too. And maybe feature some locally-sourced accessories or vintage items? Can you pull that together?"
In the conference room, Miranda could just imagine everyone exchanging glances.
"Nigel," Miranda said. "Are you still there? Can you pull that together?" she repeated slowly.
"Yes, yes, of course. We're on it now. The final should be ready within a few hours. Would you like it messengered over?" he asked.
"No." Miranda thought for a moment. Several months ago, she decided to no longer bring work home, with the rare exception of a weekend when the girls were with their father. Even though the print deadline was only hours away, she refused to make an exception. "No, I will come in. Have Paul call me when he's printing it," she said.
"Thanks, Miranda," they all said.
"Thank you, everyone. Emily, please order some salads or snacks or coffee for everyone. I appreciate you all staying to get this finished."
"Of course. Have a good evening, Miranda."
She ended the call and headed back into the kitchen, eager to get started on dinner.
"Mom, is everything okay at work?" Cassidy asked as she carried in a colander full of grape tomatoes from the garden.
"Yes it is. I will have to run back for a few minutes later tonight, but I won't be gone more than an hour. Do you mind?" she asked.
"Nope. Can we come with?"
"Of course," Miranda said. In an effort to spend more time with her daughters, she had been letting them spend a few days a week in her office while they were on summer break. Today, they stayed home by themselves.
On the other side of the kitchen, Caroline turned the iPod on that was connected to the kitchen stereo. "Mom, you have to watch this, okay? We've been practicing all day," she said.
Miranda finishes rinsing the tomatoes and set the colander in the sink to drain. "Alright, what am I watching?"
"Just watch!" Caroline said, pressing play and running to get into place next to her sister.
Miranda leaned back against the counter and smiled as she watched her girls dance to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Just last week they tried to teach her the dance to Britney's "Oops, I Did It Again" on a rainy Saturday afternoon.
"Girls, that was impressive," Miranda said when they finished. She didn't want to admit it, but she would for sure have the tune in her head for the rest of the day.
After they ate dinner, they piled on the couch and watched the American Idol results show. It was down to four contestants, and one would be voted off tonight. Partway through the show, she received a call saying the cover was ready for review. Since the girls couldn't pull their eyes away from the television, Miranda slipped out on her own and promised to bring them ice cream on her way home.
The cover turned out perfectly, and she was glad that she went into the office because it gave her the opportunity to personally thank those staff members who put in the extra time to have it done correctly.
"Do any of you know where I can find some ice cream around here at this hour?" she asked as she was about to leave. "Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes. "I know you all monitor your calorie intake closely, but I promised my daughters I would bring them ice cream and I would appreciate if I didn't have to traipse all over the city to find it."
"Smith's Fresh Market, two doors down from Starbucks." Jocelyn said. "I noticed they have a gelato cooler in the back, and you can buy it by the pint. What? They have a good salad bar," she added with a shrug.
"Thank you, Jocelyn," Miranda said. "And I don't want to see any of you here before nine o'clock tomorrow. No arguments. Good night," she said.
Miranda headed across the street and purchased two pints: chocolate almond for the girls and pistachio for herself. As she was exiting the store, she was too focused on finding a cab that she nearly ran into someone.
"Sorry—"
"Oh, excuse me."
"Miranda?"
Miranda looked up and met eyes with Andrea Sachs, former assistant and object of her nightly flashbacks. "A-Andrea."
"How are you? I didn't expect to see you here at Smith's," she said, glancing down at Miranda's bag to see that she had, in fact, made a purchase at the market. When the woman didn't respond, Andrea continued. "I'm working the overnight shift today, updating stories on the website, so I just came to grab a quick salad before they close," she explained.
"Oh, um, I'm bringing the girls gelato," Miranda said, holding her bag up. "Your job—it's going okay?" She mentally cursed herself for not being able to string together a sentence.
"Yeah, it's great. The first few months were rough, but I'm not the rookie anymore, so it's better. And you're doing okay? Runway? The girls?"
Miranda opened her mouth to answer just as a taxi pulled up for her. She looked to the impatient driver, then back to Andrea. She closed her eyes for a second. "Would you like to come by tomorrow? I can't talk right now—the gelato, and—" she reached for the door of the taxi before he drove away.
"I would love to," Andrea said with a smile.
"Oh, you would? I mean, great. We will be home all day, so whatever works for you."
Andrea was a little surprised at that, but decided not to think too much about it. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night!" she called.
Miranda smiled and waved before closing the door to the taxi. She tried to calm herself down. Just because she invited her doesn't mean she will show up. She probably only accepted the invitation because she was caught off-guard. That's okay, Miranda thought. She wasn't going to say anything to the girls because she didn't want them to be disappointed when she didn't show up.
That night, they indulged in their gelato and no one said a word when Miranda ate directly from the container.
The next day, Miranda wanted to be prepared no matter what time Andrea might show up. If she showed up. She made heart-shaped Belgian waffles for breakfast at Caroline's request, and spent the majority of the early afternoon cleaning out the kitchen cabinets while the girls were on their computers or reading.
After lunch, Caroline and Cassidy helped her to make over two hundred creme puffs. Cooling racks were setup all over the counters, and once they were no longer hot, they had plans to fill them with vanilla and banana pudding.
Miranda couldn't help but watch the clock. She told the girls she was just checking on the oven or making sure they didn't sit out too long, but it was painfully obvious that she was watching the minutes tick by as Andrea failed to show up.
A short while later, when the puffs were deemed cool-to-the-touch, the girls pulled the pudding from the fridge and helped Miranda to fill. And because Caroline always insisted on playing that iPod whenever they were in the kitchen, the three of them were laughing and singing along to Kesha's "Your Love Is My Drug," so engrossed in what they were doing that no one heard the doorbell.
Andrea stood outside on the front steps. She could hear noises and what sounded like music coming from inside, so she knew someone was home. After almost a minute of waiting, she fished the house key out of her purse and opened the door.
The sound she heard was definitely music, and it was definitely coming from the kitchen. Andrea thought it sounded like Kesha, but she wasn't sure. Now, it was a different song—something older. She shut the door behind her and slowly walked towards the source of the sound, freezing in place when she reached the kitchen.
"Why do you build me up — build me up — buttercup, baby, just to let me down — let me down — and mess me around…"
Andrea brought her hand up to cover her mouth as she watched the three Priestly women singing and dancing in the kitchen.
"I need you — I need you — more than anyone, darling," Miranda sang, tapping each daughter on the nose. She stepped to the side to begin working on the next tray of creme puffs and quickly turned around to face Andrea. She offered a tiny smile before turning her head, blushing furiously. "Caroline, turn the volume down, we have a guest," Miranda said.
"I—I—I—I need youuuoouuuu," the girls sang in chorus. It wasn't until Miranda physically took her daughter's shoulders and turned her around that she stopped and ran to the stereo, turning off the music.
"Andy!" they shouted, running over and hugging her. "Why are you here?"
She smiled and looked up at Miranda. It seems she hadn't told them about their encounter the previous night. "I was just in the neighborhood and I remembered I still had a key to your house," she said, holding the key up. "And it's a good thing, too, because I don't think you heard me ringing the doorbell or knocking on the door."
Cassidy pushed the key back towards Andrea. "You should keep it for next time. We sing a lot around here, right Mom?"
Miranda smiled. "Yes we do. Girls, can you finish up the creme puffs while I catch up with Andrea?" she asked.
"Sure," Caroline said. "Are we going to put them in the fridge?"
"Yes, but I can help. If you want, you can move things around to make some space. Once they're filled we can squeeze them all onto one or two sheets," Miranda said. "The pudding just needs to stay refrigerated, so don't let them sit out too long."
"Got it."
"Andrea?" Miranda said, leading her into the living room.
"This is so surreal," she whispered, sitting down on the couch.
"What?" Miranda asked.
"This. You. Being back here. You being…normal," she said. "Oh, no offense, I just mean, well, down-to-earth maybe?"
Miranda smiled. "You are correct in sensing a difference. A lot has changed—I have changed. For the most part, I think it's for the better."
"So you never answered me, how are you doing, Miranda? It's been what, six or seven months?"
Miranda smiled again. "It will be seven months next Tuesday. And, I'm doing really well. Thank you for asking."
"Good, good," Andrea said, looking down at her hands. An awkward silence punctuated the air. It appears neither of them knew what to say next.
After a few minutes, Miranda stood and walked over towards the window and sat along the windowsill. "I took some time off work after everything. I started seeing a therapist, and I even went on a three-week retreat. I really needed to get my priorities straight," she said, looking out onto the street below.
Andrea felt the familiar cadence of the older woman's speech. She knew she would continue talking, and she silently applauded herself when she did just that.
"I'm sorry for how I treated you, Andrea. You supported me and my family from the minute you received word in Paris about the attack. There were moments when I was completely out of my mind with grief, but that was no excuse for my words or actions. You deserve better, and all I can offer is an apology. I hope you can forgive me," Miranda said. She continued to stare out the window, not sure she could handle the disappointment on the young woman's face.
Andrea got up and stood next to Miranda. She softly grasped Miranda's hand, and the action must have surprised the editor because she jumped just a little. "Of course," she said with a smile.
"I would really like to start over with you," Miranda said, grasping Andrea's hand with both of her own. "I'd like to take things slow, and from the beginning."
"With me?" Andrea asked. Her voice cracked just a little, and Miranda looked up. Andrea's eyes were wet, brimming with tears.
"Yes," she replied quietly.
Andrea shook her head and looked up to the ceiling. "You finally get your head screwed on straight and you want this…with me?"
Miranda shrugged and nodded her head.
"Yes," Andrea said.
"Yes what?" Miranda asked, confused.
"Yes to everything," Andrea said, squeezing her hand.
Miranda smiled a genuine smile for the first time that afternoon. "Oh, darling," she said, cupping her cheek. "I don't even know where to start."
Andrea gently tugged her away from the window and led her to the couch. She took the seat next to her and draped her arm over the woman's shoulders. Miranda curled naturally into her side. "Let's start with something simple," Andrea said. "Why don't you tell me how the—" she paused to think for a moment, "September issue went? That should have just gone to press." She could already feel the tension melting away from the woman.
"I'll tell you on one condition," Miranda said. "That when I'm through, you tell me all about being a 'rookie' at The Mirror. Deal?"
"Deal," Andrea said as she pressed a light kiss to the top of Miranda's head.
Miranda's heart fluttered at the simple, loving gesture. She took a deep breath, and began to tell the young woman all about the latest issue.
This, Miranda knew, was her second chance.
The end.