A/N: I probably won't be able to update again until Thursday or Friday as I have some pressing deadlines in the next couple of days. But the next two chapters are written, all I have to do is final cleanup so they will be forthcoming! Thank you again for all of your excellent feedback I have been amazed at the response to this story. All disclaimers apply, see Prolog/Chap01 for full disclaimers; although it bears repeating that I'm making no money off of this.

Chapter Ten

The always implacable editor found she was quite unable to work, focus shattered; she abandoned her laptop even though her now idle state only invited a plague of worry and sorrow to nest in her conflicted thoughts.

I almost lost her…my last words to her were for her to leave…will she forgive me? I've already forgiven her; I understand better what she was trying to say I was just so damn frustrated by her stubborn refusal to listen.

Her eyes flicked up from where they had rested on their joined hands to watch the steady rise and fall then moved towards the room, looking at the man who had been so, so… she didn't have a word really to discuss the depths of ignorance that the man possessed. Lily, mercurial, loyal, she'd hit the nail on the head with him; the editor was used to dealing with some phenomenal male egos but never one so maddeningly self-righteous. It was actually baffling.

Much like Andrea's insistence on paying her own way, which she still thought ridiculous; there was no way she could keep up with Miranda's wealth, so why make an issue? Why was it necessary that she try and barring that, refuse to accept what was so freely offered?

An argument over money; how absolutely not important, especially now; I almost lost her! And our final words to one another would have been in anger? But an argument over something so trivial was exactly what had driven her to days of bewildered sadness, fearing that Andrea would decide it just wasn't worth it, that her "commitment phobic" lover who was nearly twice her age was just not worth it.

The fear was still there, gnawing steadily at the frayed wires of her composure. Perhaps it was good that Richard was such an ass, it allowed her an opportunity to release some of the berserker that was clawing its way around inside.

She contemplated the bigger picture of the situation; confined to a room with two people who before yesterday did not know of her involvement with their daughter. They'd both thought there was to be plenty of time to ease the Sachs' into it; that the only threat had been a vindictive co-worker and a rabid press. Even then, she wouldn't have had to meet them for a while; and a long while, if truth be told, would have been her preference.

But that wasn't to be, and faced with the reality she looked for the good to be found. This time with Andrea's parents was allowing for a greater understanding. She felt the awareness of the "why" flutter at the edges of her perception, the root perhaps of Andrea's inability to accept that she wanted to give her things.

Miranda had long ago reconciled that money was a tool, she had no attachment to it, yes it allowed her to live as she wished and she had more than she knew what to do with but she didn't give it any particular power over her. The power dynamic in society often dictated that the ones with the money retained the most power, but this wasn't necessarily always true because there was still an element of choice involved; a person with money only had power over you if you allowed them that privilege. She'd learned that at the age of eighteen and had never relinquished the lesson.

The realization dawned on the contemplative woman; Richard had molded his child in more ways than one. In his bluster he gave away his power to everyone, in his insecurity he hammered in misconceptions, many of which were rejected, but some were more subtle, cast into soft clay and fired, hardened, hidden perhaps but set to surface at the most inconvenient times.

Somewhere along the line her Andrea was told she was only worth that which she was able to contribute and if an imbalance was present that she was in essence prostituting herself if she chose to accept the inequity.

An even deeper loathing for the man bubbled to the surface, weak bastard; she had to nearly grasp the arms of the chair to resist the impulse to fly over to him and slap him hard across the face. But that wouldn't do, no, violence, doing physical harm as the result of anger; that was not what she had built herself to be. So instead the driven woman focused on her breathing, on calming the dragon and letting go the lingering doubts regarding Andrea's desire to still be with her; freeing her to replace the negativity with love and once again visualizing the all-important healing.

l l l l l l l

Someone had turned on the television and the large flat screen mounted on the wall was tuned to one of the national news programs.

"Sources have now identified the Angel of the Broadway line as Andrea Sachs, twenty-eight, of the Upper West Side…"

All eyes suddenly became riveted to the images flashing, of subway riders surfacing, emergency workers and vehicles as the voice over continued.

"Anita Jimenez was on the same train as Ms. Sachs and described how the brave woman had saved her little boy, Joshua."

"…He had dropped his Spiderman doll and wouldn't come with me. I could barely keep him from climbing back up on the train as I had my baby, Marbella, and just couldn't. I saw a shadowy figure that was already away from the train turn around, running back to us and the next thing I knew the woman who I would see every morning, who I know now goes by Andy, was skidding up to us, sliding on the muddy ground between the tracks trying to keep her footing as Bud started screaming that whatever was on the train was doing something.

Andy grabbed Joshua while Bud started running with me, keeping my balance, I wouldn't have made it without him." The woman wiped tears away and continued.

"Joshua kept struggling, and I was looking back and could see she had to keep stopping and picking him up, finally, Bud got us to the bend then went back. He put the flashlight on her and then at her feet so she could see and ran back to help her. Joshua was finally staying still and Andy was almost…" She broke into a sob suddenly and the anchor patted her hand and told her to take her time. After several inhales the woman continued. "… someone pulled me back keeping me from running towards them, then it was like the world ended, it was a boom so loud and stuff was flying everywhere, I could hear it hitting the walls away from us. I saw Bud, he had fallen back but he just sprang up and ran for them. Once again I tried to go but this other guy wouldn't let me and then the worst sound, worse than the explosion, the ceiling caved in and then nothing..." The tears were falling constantly but she choked out, "all I could do was pray…pray they weren't crushed, that my little boy wasn't dead!"

"Thank you Ms. Jimenez…"

Doug turned down the sound and everyone in the room stayed silent. It was one thing to have heard a clinical accounting of the incident, quite another from someone who was there. Then more mention of Andy and the volume was once again raised.

"…is a reporter for the New York Daily Mirror. Before that she worked as an assistant to Miranda Priestly at Runway Magazine. We've tried to contact both Greg Hill, her managing editor at the Mirror and Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway magazine and board chair of Elias-Clarke Publications to get comments but have been unable to reach both. She's a graduate of Northwestern University and originally from Cincinnati, Ohio. We understand her parents arrived early this morning and are currently at her bedside at New York-Presbyterian Hospital. Stay with us as we work on this developing story."

Doug clicked the mute button and tossed down the remote. He looked at Miranda and Lily shaking his head. "Damn, and so it begins."

Lily laughed but it wasn't humorous. "The irony would be fucking hilarious if it wasn't going to suck so bad."

Both Richard and Louise looked on in confusion; Louise tossed out the question with no little pique. "What's going on, what do you mean?"

Miranda murmured. "The slumbering beast awakens and has in its nostrils the scent of its prey".

Louise shot her a look. "Riddles, really Miranda? I didn't take you for one who indulged."

"No, generally I don't but suddenly this has the feel of a Shakespearean drama. One of the pressing issues of our recent relationship, between your daughter and I and my daughters," she noted the surprise on both the Sachs' faces at their mention, really was the concept that I have children so far-fetched? she thought indignantly before continuing "… had been how we could best manage the press storm that was sure to arise with discovery. Already someone at her work was spreading rumors, pure speculation, but they were jealous of her recent success and she feared that they do more than just gossip."

Louise still didn't seem to understand the scope. "Ooookay, maybe I'm naïve, but what's the big problem? The press finds out, there's a story and then it goes away, right?"

Miranda shook her head sadly. "That's was your daughter's initial perception, a week or two of scrutiny and then it would pass. But that's not how it works with the paparazzi, once you become a commodity you are as valuable as gold. They vie for anything that will sell papers and online hits, photos, stories, anything they can get and it doesn't have to be true."

She leaned back in her chair slightly and stretched her back which was suddenly very tense and looked at the now peaceful woman still unconscious. "But eventually the worst would have passed, and maybe it would only have been a few weeks or month; I am a public figure, true, but there are far more interesting than me and I have a powerful network that I pay well to handle the worst of it. But this, suddenly it is Andrea that has become the public figure, a hero, no less. And while I am in wonder that she is so…" Her voice trailed off in contemplation. "…so amazingly selfless and good I can't help the knowing that I have of the meanness that so pervades this voracious machine. Every angle of her life will now be examined and our connection, when unearthed, will only intensify the scrutiny; in effect, a 'perfect storm'."

The editor raised her head and looked around the room, measuring the impact of her words. "I already have my publicist working on this, Leslie is the best, but still, no matter what is done it won't change the fact that your daughter," she looked at both Sachs "and your friend," then at Lily and Doug "and now, by extension, each of you, will have to endure a long and frustrating gauntlet of probing questions, many of which will make you want to kick their teeth in and damn them to an eternal hell."

She focused then on Richard. "And I can tell you, anger only makes them worse. Each of us will need to be as calm as possible. Any outbursts will only make it worse for her. Do you understand me?"

Richard was still in shock over the earlier incident and now this? "I don't know why you're looking at me."

Miranda shook her head and purposefully hardened her voice, knowing that this was not going to help the situation but needing the man to get a hold of it sooner rather than later. "Tell me Richard, how will you react the first time someone asks you how it feels knowing that your daughter is consorting with 'The Devil' herself? When they question her integrity, inferring that she is only with me for my money, that she is nothing but a gold-digger 'whoring' herself out." She closed her eyes briefly and swallowed, nearly sick to her stomach, when she opened them again she noted Louise staring at her intently even as Richard's expected outburst tried all of their nerves.

"I would make sure that whoever had the nerve to ask something so disgusting would regret it!"

"Right. How? By shoving their camera back into their face or grabbing it and breaking it? Screaming at them? Punching them? You need to imagine every horrible thing they can ask and then remember that you love your daughter and that the only way you will not make things worse for her will be by remaining calm and ignoring them or keeping to polite answers."

"This is insane! If you really loved her you wouldn't put her through this. When you get tired of your latest toy what will she have left? Her reputation will be shot! If you leave now they'll never know."

Miranda bristled at his perception but ignored it, sticking to the point. "Believe me, I've thought about it, but that's not my call to make. I love your daughter enough to endure this coming media free-for-all and if she so chooses I will not abandon her just because it's going to get difficult. If she were to decide differently then I will leave, but it's her decision, I won't disrespect her by removing her power of choice. But remember, our relationship is now but one facet, Andrea is a story unto herself and it will be intense as the press vies with one another to get that story; my leaving would not change that."

Richard sat back, ignoring the second half of the woman's statement and looked at her, deciding then and there that if it were as simple as his daughter deciding to leave the bitch then he would wait until she was awake and help her make the right choice. He would bide his time.

Miranda noted the self-satisfied smirk and wanted to wipe it off his face but once again resisted the impulse. Instead she sent another silent plea towards the younger woman, Andrea there is so much to say, all I ask is that you at least listen, please.

l l l l l l l

Somewhere around mid-day one of the concierge staff entered the room and handed the editor a small bag. Miranda had been silently attempting to do some work, exchanging emails with her staff members and accepted the interruption gratefully. "Your housekeeper, Cara, dropped this off, said it had been delivered late this morning. She said that they'd asked that you be informed that the person who'd sent it had requested it be delivered yesterday afternoon and they were sorry at the delay."

Miranda tipped the man and then turned to the bag, wondering why Cara had deemed it important enough to have it brought to her here. Just then her cell notified her of an incoming text and she stood, heading towards the back of the room. She paled immediately at the message, Cara informing her of the bag's sender, and leaned on the counter to steady herself. Louise noticed and moved towards the usually composed woman.

"Are you alright?" The voice was laced with concern and Miranda merely nodded. Her eyes settled back on her unconscious lover, wishing that they were alone.

"I, uhm," She cleared her throat and found she didn't know what to do, every molecule had her wanting to remain by Andrea's side but she didn't want to look at the bag's contents with the others so close. Lily had returned to work as she had to get ready for a gallery opening that weekend and had no choice but Doug and Andrea's parents were still present. "I'm going to go into the back. Please don't disturb me unless it has something to do with Andrea." Then she turned and walked through the outer suite to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She absently lowered her body to the edge of the bed and stared into the bag, a small box was contained within and a card was tucked in next to it. With trembling hands she removed both, setting the box on her lap, as she ran her hands over the familiar heavy weight paper of the envelope.

Finally she inhaled once more and found her courage opening the flap and drawing a single sheet of stationery folded in half. Her eyes watered as she took in the neat handwriting; Andrea had written this with her own hand, the familiarity comforting her like a caress. She scanned it once and not sure it was real, a second time and then, unable to bear the intense relief she let it drop into her lap as she released every fiber of doubt into a flowing stream of tears.

Miranda,

You are not the only one who is not going to let the matter of a few days stop her from bestowing a gift early.

All I can say to you is that I am sorry from the bottom of my heart. I really messed up Miranda; the words, misguided, ill-chosen and hurtful were said in anger and fear. I have been so turned around by what I was taught growing up and the fear I've been having over this whole paparazzi threat, that I lost perspective and took it out on you. That is so, so wrong and I apologize with the whole of my being. I love you so much and only hope that I can prove myself worthy of your trust once again.

With that said, please accept this gift, I had it made for you as it expresses how I feel about what we are to one another. The explanation of the design is enclosed in the tiny square of paper beneath the velvet box bottom.

I love you.

Forever; please never doubt that.

Your Andrea

Minutes elapsed until she was finally able to muster the strength to rein in the uncharacteristic display. Ordinarily she would have chastised herself, she had cried more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the past ten years. All because of this impertinent young woman who had no pretense, no artifice and no agenda outside of loving me. It was unasked for and unsought and yet, here it was and she had nearly lost it. Never again. She vowed, she was not going to let this go if she could help it.

Eventually she became aware of the unopened box, although now she truly had a greater understanding of what the earnest reporter was attempting to tell her a few days before. She didn't need a gift; the words, and the intent and feeling behind the words, were enough.

Opening it she found a round medallion about an inch and a half in diameter crafted from a metal that was burnished to near gold but she guessed by its weight was actually bronze. Throughout the intricate design there were elements comprised of sterling silver, the contrast and detail wrought in both metals, stunning. It looked familiar and she remembered something similar that they had used a few years before in a spread on sub-continental Asia and the region's influence in design; if she recalled correctly it was a yantra.

It was beautiful and she realized when she turned in over, custom made. The words inscribed on the solid brass back inspired more tears but they were gentle and she allowed them to fall without care.

Power of will
Power of knowledge
Power of action

For my Miranda
Forever Yours
Andrea

Miranda looked at the incredible intricacy of the sculpting, a true craftsperson had wrought this and she realized that it was something that had to have been planned some time in advance for it would have taken weeks to complete. She dug out a folded sheet of paper and affirmed what she had thought, a Sri Yantra.

The Shri or Sri Yantra is a yantra formed by nine interlocking triangles that surround and radiate out from the central point, the junction point between the physical universe and its unmanifest source. It represents the goddess in her form of Shri Lalitha Or Tripura Sundari, "the beauty of the three worlds".

Four of the triangles point upwards, representing Shiva or the Masculine. Five of these triangles point downwards, representing Shakti or the Feminine. Thus the Sri Yantra also represents the union of Masculine and Feminine Divine. Because it is composed of nine triangles, it is known as the Navayoni Chakra. Together the nine triangles are interlaced in such a way as to form 43 smaller triangles in a web symbolic of the entire cosmos or a womb symbolic of creation.

It was beautiful, simple yet complex. Miranda lifted it by its simple brass chain and placed it around her neck where it nestled nearly two inches or so below where her collarbones met at the base of her throat. It immediately warmed to her skin and she swore she could feel a kiss placed on the base of her neck as she settled her hair back into place around the chain as a feeling of well-being and optimism overtook her.

Andrea was not going to cast her out and the relief was so palpable that she found her head suddenly heavy. She allowed her body to follow its whim and lower itself to the welcoming softness of the comforter and pillow, card tucked safely in hand as sleep reached forward to further heal what had nearly been broken; her heart.

l l l l l l l

Miranda had been gone for over an hour and Louise kept looking at the door, expecting her to return at any moment. I can't believe I'm actually concerned about her! She was seated in the chair on Andy's left side, holding her hand; vigilant.

She considered all that she now knew, all that had transpired. When Madeline had first told them about Miranda she resisted, her mind could not wrap around the icy queen of her industry showing even a modicum of emotion, couldn't see her fitting with her daughter. Andy needed someone who was passionate and available, willing to give of herself and not some cold-hearted bitch, she shamed at the sexist trap she had fallen into with use of the word, who would only string her along. The view she had had of Andy's former boss was shaped by her daughter's time in the demanding woman's employ and, she sheepishly admitted to herself, by the very tabloids and media that lurked outside even now, hoping for a scrap of her baby.

But miracle of miracles, Miranda let them see beyond the façade; she could have held herself apart, and in some ways did, although she intuited that it was more of a self-defense against her impossibly hostile husband, but not completely. Her emotions had been laid out for all of them to see and when Andy's heart stopped she didn't refuse Louise's sudden need for comfort from the one person in the room aside herself who understood how devastating a loss it could have been.

So, she was grateful, now in a far better place of understanding regarding her daughter's relationship and knew she would be able to support it no matter what. The age difference still troubled her as the odds were such that Andy would have to endure her own horrible loss at some point; that she wouldn't be able to grow old with the woman, but, she internally snorted, look where I am. There's not much of an age difference between Richard and I and I'm probably going to end up without him; so there's just no guarantees.

Twenty-four hours, what a difference it has made, I almost lost my baby and I've found that I can no longer stand by my husband. She shook her head again and squeezed her child's hand, deciding that she needed to check in on the editor, just to make sure she was okay.

l l l l l l l

Louise tapped lightly on the door and when she got no response edged into the quiet room, cold winter sun barely gaining access through the partially closed blinds. The editor appeared to be sleeping, curled up on top of the covers, but seemed to not to be in distress so she turned to go when a voice rough with sleep asked.

"Is she okay?"

"Yes, she is." Louise suddenly felt a little foolish but decided to explain anyway. "I was more worried about you."

Miranda had been in the process of sitting up and at the admission her head turned towards Louise, about to assure her that she in fact needed no one to take care of her; at least no one conscious. But she stopped the impulse; the woman was reaching out and had actually been a decent human being to her.

"I am fine. Well, I am now. Thank you."

Miranda stood, ordering her hair with her fingers and turned to face the door. Louise observed the stationery still in hand and the pendant hanging in the "v" of her blouse. Miranda noted the silent question and moved towards the sofa in the corner of the room, sitting at one end, a silent invitation to join her.

Miranda, still slightly groggy, waited for Louise to settle, remnants of a very vivid dream with Andrea still with her. "Your daughter is a most remarkable woman."

Louise chuckled, "It's still difficult for me at times to think of her as a woman."

"I know what you mean, my twins are only twelve and I find I still think of them at time as babies."

"That doesn't ever really stop you know."

The normally reserved features crinkled into a slight smile. "I'm beginning to see that. But I have a completely different perspective on your daughter, not a girl at all. Oh, perhaps she was when I first met her but that changed for me drastically one day after she'd worked there perhaps a month or two."

Andy's mother looked with a question in her eyes and Miranda snorted. "This is a strange conversation to be having with you, you know. But, well, it was the Chanel boots." At the continued look of expectation she continued. "You haven't seen them I gather? Well, they are black, baby soft leather and come to oh…" she indicated with her hand a place a little higher than mid-thigh and watched as the woman's eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead. "… about here. Yes. Combine that with an extremely short skirt and a lovely Chanel prep school jacket and well you may guess that I realized at that moment what an exquisite young woman she truly was. Not that I had any other thought about her at that time. I was very married then and I assure you am not one who chases my assistants about my office."

Andy's mother caught something in the inflection of her words and asked boldly. "Are you British?"

"You are a very astute observer Mrs. Brownly-Sachs, much like your daughter."

Louise waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yes, well, lawyer and all that, not much escapes me, well at least where other people are concerned. I'm afraid I can't say the same regarding my own life."

Miranda caught the inference and the countenance darkened by regret. "I don't believe we see more than we are ready."

"Small comfort, but I know you're right. I'm considering filing a divorce once we return home, I just can't see myself with him anymore; he's not the man I married and I've been avoiding it for a long time now, hoping perhaps it would just somehow improve."

"I am sorry. I understand how difficult it is to consider."

"Yes, you have had the experience once or twice, correct?"

Miranda saw no reason to correct the woman and merely nodded. "Of course for me circumstances were such that I did not have the luxury of prevarication, Jeremy was literally caught with his pants down by the tabloids and Stephen, the last one, well, it only took three years for each of us to realize the mistake. I actually think I knew before I married him but I was operating under some misguided sense that my girls needed a 'father-figure'. They have since assured me that they do not."

"How are they with Andy?"

Miranda related some of what occurred in the past couple of months and the difficulties that Caroline had first presented. "Your daughter was quite good with her, she treats them both with respect and listens to them and Caro responded to it once she got over her fears of being the laughingstock of her school whenever this should tumble out into the press."

"That can't be easy for them."

"No, but such is the way of things. I do what I can to be there for them; protect them. It's been difficult lately, since I've taken over the Elias-Clarke board but they know they are loved and are bearing with me. Of course Andrea has helped also, she's been spending time with them, even without me present and I think it's making a difference." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I think that in a way has made this even more difficult, to have lost her for myself is inconceivable but when I think of how devastated they would be, well…as it was they were trying to figure out what had happened between us." This last she hadn't meant to say; it had just slipped out, more as an afterthought than anything and she grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

"We had an argument on Sunday evening and she left before dinner. I hadn't talked to her since and…"

"Oh my God, this must have even been more horrible for you!"

The silver hair dipped in front of her eyes as she tilted her head down in relief.

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"For not immediately jumping to a conclusion and telling me she's better off without me."

"I don't think I believe that anymore."

"I'm glad. This has been hell on top of bloody hell. My last words were for her to leave my house; we had both said unfortunate things in the heat of the moment and I just wanted her to cool off, well both of us actually…"

"She gets that from her father."

Miranda stared blankly and said with all dryness. "Really; I never would have guessed."

Then they both laughed. "You're right, but whereas my husband has all of the self-awareness and finesse of a blind and deaf bull Andrea always calms down and thinks, puts herself in the other person's shoes then comes back and apologizes. She'll do it again, I promise you."

"She already did." Miranda held up the envelope and fingered the pendant.

Louise tapped Miranda's knee lightly. "See, I know my daughter. She loves you, I could tell she was hiding something, something important, and given a conversation we had at Thanksgiving where she proceeded to extol your numerous admirable characteristics…"

"She did no such thing; we hadn't even met again then."

"No, she did, your name came up and she defended you with much vigor. So yes, she's never spoken, or not spoken, of anyone else in quite the same way."

Defended, hmmm. But she let that slide eyeing her in a new light. "I think I may very well like you Louise."

Andy's mother smiled, and it was so reminiscent of her daughter that it clutched Miranda's heart for a moment. "Well good because I think maybe I like you too Miranda."

"Sounds like you are still withholding judgment." She said with a touch of reserve creeping in.

"Well, she is my daughter and it has been less than twenty-four hours, give a woman a break will ya?"

l l l l l l l

Around four o'clock in the afternoon Miranda looked across the bed at Louise and then stood. "I need to leave for a little bit; check in on my daughters. I'll only be gone for a couple of hours, perhaps when I return you and Richard would like to go to your hotel and get a change of clothes, sleep for a bit?"

Louise considered, Andrea was improving, as much as she did not wish to leave her daughter's side it would make sense for them to be fresh in the morning.

"I think that might be a good idea; Richard?"

Andrea's father looked over from where he was watching a news program, uttered a quiet, "Fine" then turned his attention back to the television.

Louise clenched her jaw and nodded. "When you return we'll go; it would be good to get some fresh air if even for a little bit."

l l l l l l l

As Miranda pushed open the door into the entrance hall a cascade of smaller feet all but tumbled down the stairs.

"Mom!" Both girls practically shouted as they flew into her arms.

Usually she would have reprimanded them for the unladylike entrance but simply held onto them both.

Caroline pulled back and looked at her mother with concern. "Is Andy okay?"

Cassidy let go and stood next to her sister, scanning the tired face, seeing the worry and stress.

"Yes Bobbseys; Andrea is recovering."

She started to move towards the kitchen, needing to speak with Cara.

Each girl took a hand and walked with their mom, noticing her gait wasn't its usual confident stride and that she didn't let go of them once they crossed the threshold into the welcoming, brightly lit kitchen.

"Hello Cara, it smells wonderful in here."

Cara moved away from the convection oven, having just finished basting a roasting chicken. "Miranda! How is Andy?"

"She is doing well enough for me to leave for a few hours, her friend Doug and her parents are still with her."

The four sat at the kitchen table and Miranda gave a very edited account of the reporter's injuries.

"What do broken ribs feel like mom?"

"I don't know darling, I've never had them before."

"What about a concussion?"

"A very bad headache."

"Stitches?"

Miranda answered all of their questions and when they got to the one they most wanted to know they leaned in a little closer to her, all the while feigning nonchalance. "So, can we see her?"

The editor sighed, hating the need to remove the hopefulness from their expressions. "Not yet girls, she's still in a place that does not allow children. Once she is moved from the Critical Care unit, then we will make sure you are able to see her, alright?"

"We miss her mom."

"So do I girls."

Cassidy looked at her mom for a minute, biting her bottom lip with her teeth as if in debate of something.

"What is it Cass?"

"Once Andy's better is she still going to be your girlfriend?"

Noting the look of surprise on her mother's face Caroline jumped in. "We knew you had a fight on Sunday and…"

"…and she left. You were really sad then. Will she…"

"Yes, it's going to be okay; I…" She hastened to reassure them, no need for them to be anxious about this too but how much to say? "Andrea sent me a letter and this on Monday, but I didn't get it until today." Her eyes cut to Cara and she mouthed a thank you as she lifted the pendant for both to see.

The girls pressed in closer, fascinated.

"Cool!"

"Wow!"

And then both girls exhaled in relief. "We were really worried mom."

They didn't specify as it was understood, all of it had taken a toll on them and Miranda once again sent a thank you to the universe.

Miranda's manner was subdued and she looked up at Cara as she continued to caress the pendant. "I am only going to stay long enough to have dinner and gather a few things. Do you have any obligations that would keep you from remaining with the girls?" Even though the housekeeper had an apartment on the uppermost level she didn't want to assume.

"No, mother is doing well, it's not a problem."

"Good, thank you."

l l l l l l l

The taxi pulled under the awning of the stately hotel and both Louise and Richard couldn't help the astonished looks as a valet opened the door for them. Miranda had offered the use of her chauffeur and car but Richard had vigorously refused. Louise, not in the mood for yet another argument and feeling slightly overwhelmed, had not countered him and now she watched as if in a dream as they were presented two electronic keycards and were escorted into an opulent elevator.

The doors slid open directly into the suite and then they were left alone.

"We can't accept this, this is outrageous!"

The room was large, double the size of their living room in Cincinnati, terminating on one end with a kitchen area, a door that led to an office space and another to what looked to be a good sized bedroom. The other end of the suite had a large television mounted to the wall in front of a seating area and another door. In between was a dining area and a large expanse of glass that provide a view of the many tall buildings of mid-town, heavily shadowed and rose-tinged in the setting sun.

Louise wandered around, impressed despite the surreal feeling of it all; curiosity and wonder driving her to explore. The master bedroom, the sole room behind the television wall, already had their luggage arranged and opened, was complete with a comfortable seating area, walk-in closet double the size of her own and a master bath one could become lost in. She sat on the bed and contemplated the wealth needed to command accommodation such as this; what it meant for her daughter in a manner both positive and negative.

"We can't stay here Louise."

She shook herself out of her reverie and nodded, but unsure. "Madeline had said that there wouldn't be anything else available."

"And you believed her? Surely it can't be that difficult." He looked around for a yellow pages but gave up. "What the hell kind of hotel doesn't have a phone book?"

"Somehow I doubt that whoever can afford this would need such a thing."

He snorted and then remained silent.

"I'll call my sister." One of Louise's sisters, Tessa, was a travel agent, if anyone could find them something else it would be her.

But after an hour of waiting the news was not good. "Madeline was correct, the only rooms available are in New Jersey…"

"Well, why not? Call her back…"

"You don't understand, with traffic Tessa said it would take an hour and a half at least to get from the hospital to the room, that's crazy!" She watched as he actually considered it then dismissed him. "I'm going to get a shower and then some sleep; you do whatever you feel you must." The implication that she was staying rather clear.

l l l l l l l

Miranda sat alone in the room next to Andrea's bed, enjoying the solitude. Doug was in the other room working on his laptop and aside from the machines, it was very quiet. She had work she should be doing but for the moment was content, knowing that Andrea still loved her and wanted to be with her had quieted a good deal of the rampant worry she had experienced before the arrival of the letter.

In one hand she held the pale fingers, mindful of the tubes connected to delicate veins, while her other lightly traced the ridges and bumps of the intricate design of the pendant.

After an indeterminate span of time in which her mind wandered, she felt a sudden compulsion to not just be idle and reached into her large Prada bag for the sketchbook and pencils she had brought from home. Not that she wanted to forever be reminded of this terrible time but the peacefulness of the scene, the fact that Andrea still lived and breathed was enough to spur her hands to action with a grace and skill many could only hope to achieve.

l l l l l l l

Louise arrived back at the hospital alone.

Richard had called his brother who knew a lay deacon at a local church and the man had offered him a room that they used for the parishioners' relatives and family in need. Louise had given him a long steady look and bent her head; he was on his own, she had no desire to stay in a location such as that, not because of its supposed austerity or that it lacked amenities, but because it was not who she was. Of course the understated opulence of the suite wasn't either but after further consideration a refusal of the hospitable gesture was not the message she wished to convey to her daughter. She was able to look beyond the trappings and see what was truly important; to refuse Miranda's kindness would be a symbolic refusal of her daughter's choice in a companion.

She walked quietly back into the room, it was late, the lights were dimmed and Doug was nowhere to be seen; Miranda was slouched slightly in her chair, asleep. She removed her coat and hung it in a closet at the back of the room then grabbed her own laptop case and moved towards Andy's bed. She was surprised when the silver head did not rise to attention, she must be exhausted, and moved to wake her and suggest she retire to the other room when the open sketchbook in her lap drew her attention.

To say she was shocked was an understatement, the nearly completed sketch before her was incredible in its accomplishment, capturing both the fragility and beauty of her daughter in this moment. She stared mesmerized at both it and the slender hand resting next to it, pencil held with slack fingers. Not wanting to embarrass her by being found gawking she moved away and settled on the couch, placing her laptop on the coffee table and making enough noise to rouse the sleeping editor who turned and met her eyes before closing the book and stretching.

No words were exchanged as the two women resumed their shared vigil.

l l l l l l l