Chapter Fourteen
"Where's Andrea? Did we miss her?" Cassidy said, climbing into the backseat next to Miranda.
Miranda pulled her hand from her cheek and turned to her daughters.
"See, Cass, I told you that it wasn't her," Caroline said.
"Girls, what is going on?"
"We wanted to meet your friend Andrea—the one you always talk to on the phone."
"Dad said someone from LA was staying with you and we were hoping it was Andrea," Cassidy explained. "Who was it?"
"I see I need to speak with your father about privacy," Miranda said.
"Does that mean you didn't want anyone to know? Like a secret?" Caroline asked.
Miranda's eyes widened. Admitting that would certainly be like admitting she was embarrassed by or ashamed of Andy, which she absolutely was not. "No, Bobbsey. I just meant that I would prefer he doesn't tell you things that it's my place to tell you." She took a deep breath and stared at twin sets of blue eyes. "Okay, yes, I did have someone from Los Angeles staying at our house this weekend, and yes, it was my friend Andrea. Remember I told you she was trying to get a job as a journalist? She had some interviews on Friday, and since I knew our house would be practically empty, I offered her the guest room so she could save money on a hotel."
"What did you guys do? Did you go out to dinner?"
"Did you watch any movies?"
"Did you make her breakfast?"
"My darlings, she was here on business, so no, we did not go for dinner or watch movies. I did make breakfast for her, though, because when you have a guest staying with you, that is what you do." Miranda wanted to remove any implications of a relationship from the girls' minds, since she herself wasn't sure what was going on.
"What did you make her?"
"Banana pancakes, and then french toast."
Caroline's jaw dropped. "Mom, you only ever make those for us!"
"Darling, I hate to inform you, but I don't know how to make too many breakfast foods. I'm not a chef. And also, since we gave Cara the week off, the refrigerator was pretty empty."
"Oh," Caroline said. "Uh, do you still have enough bananas and stuff to make more for us?"
"It's noon—didn't you eat at your father's?"
"Yeah, but, um, he doesn't cook at all. We had cereal."
Miranda smiled. Despite her lack of cooking skills, she would always be better than James in the kitchen. And her girls knew it. "How about we have pancakes tomorrow? Cereal is a perfectly healthy breakfast," she said.
Roy pulled the car to a stop outside the house. "Okay, help Roy bring your bags inside. And I want everything in the laundry hamper—don't even think about putting it back in your closet!" she called after them.
Later that afternoon, Caroline was reading a book on the couch while Cassidy was playing on her iPad. Miranda, too, was reviewing the Book since Emily dropped it off earlier that day with the revision to the designer feature.
"Mom, how did you and Andy meet?" Cassidy asked.
"Darling, I told you. I met her when I was in LA for the Edith Head exhibit at the Getty Museum."
"I know, but I mean, she's a detective, right? Why was she there?"
Miranda could feel the panic rising in her throat. With the choice between lying to her daughters and telling them she was raped, well, there really was no choice. "She was working security for the event," she said. Looking up at Cassidy, she could see that she wasn't buying that answer. "And," Miranda said with a sigh, "she had on these horrific Doc Martens from 1997. I may have commented on them."
"Mom! Those are classic Docs. You can't just walk up to people and tell them you don't like their shoes!" Caroline said, joining the conversation.
"You can't. But, as Editor-in-Chief of the top fashion magazine in the United States, I can," she said with a smile.
"Remind me never to bring any boyfriends home. Ever," Caroline said, digging back into her book.
"What made you ask that, honey?" Miranda asked Cassidy.
"I was reading something online and saw a bunch of pictures from the Getty. I saw you and Stephen, but didn't see Andrea anywhere."
"Sweetheart, we've talked about this. I don't want you looking at these photos online. I know it's hard. I don't mind if you read an article about Selena Gomez or whichever celebrity you like, but we do not read the stories about the people in this house. Got it?"
Cassidy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I remember. We're not the Kardashians," she said.
"You two look tired. Why don't you go upstairs and get cleaned up, then maybe we can watch a movie in bed," Miranda said.
"I call bathtub!" Cassidy shouted, tossing her iPad on the sofa and sprinting up the stairs.
"Not fair! I got stuck with the shower last time!" Caroline groaned.
"Bobbsey, come here," Miranda said, setting the Book on the ground. She hugged her daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "I missed you and your sister while you were with Dad. It was lonely here."
Caroline hugged her tightly and kissed her back on the cheek.
"Baby, you can use my bathtub if you'd like," Miranda said, pressing a soft kiss to her daughter's hair. "And you can use my bubble bath and shampoo, too."
"Aw, yes! You're the best, Mom!" she said, hugging her tightly then running upstairs.
Miranda made her way into the kitchen for a glass of wine. There was nothing open, and she didn't want to bother with a corkscrew, so she returned to the den and poured herself a glass of bourbon. She sat staring at the wall, where a replica of one of her favorite Klimt pieces hung.
Her thoughts drifted back to the young woman and the feel of her lips against her skin. It was such an unfamiliar feeling, she couldn't determine whether or not it really felt good. It was something she would certainly need to feel again to be sure. She blushed at the thought and pressed her lips again to her glass, allowing the liquid to seep down her throat, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in its wake.
The sound of Caroline's voice quietly reverberated throughout the den, which was directly below the master bath. The young girl was singing, and it brought a smile to Miranda's lips.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text: Back in LA. Thanks again, talk soon. x
Miranda smiled and quickly wrote back: Thanks for letting me know. By the way, what does 'x' mean? -MP
She received an immediate response: x = kiss, o = hug. -A xox
Miranda's face flushed as the thought of kissing Andrea seeped into her mind. No, not just kissing. A hug sandwiched between two kisses…
"No," she said aloud, standing from the couch. She carried her glass to the kitchen and poured the remaining amber liquid down the drain. It was clearly affecting her better judgment. She took a few deep breaths and decided that she, too was tired and should go check on the girls.
Cassidy was finished with her bath and dressed in her nightgown with her hair in a towel as she brushed her teeth.
"Sweetie, would you like me to dry your hair?" Miranda asked. She desperately needed the distraction, and was not often able to spend time like this with her daughter one-on-one.
"Sure," she said. She took the towel off her hair and hung it on the rack to dry, then sat indian-style on the floor. Miranda kneeled behind her and pulled the dryer out of the basket under the sink. She pulled the top half of Cassidy's hair up in a clip and began combing through the bottom half.
"Want me to blow it straight?"
"Yes, please."
Miranda nodded and started the dryer. Both her girls had long, curly hair, but Cassidy always wanted hers straight. Miranda remembered that as a child, she wanted just the opposite. Her hair was straight, and she always loved when her mother would put it up in curlers the night before a special occasion. As she continued drying, she thought about her mother. When she was a little girl, her mother always seemed so much older and she wished for something like an older sister—even an aunt or a cousin. Was that how Caroline and Cassidy looked at her now? She wanted to think they didn't, but she could only imagine what the girls' friends said about her. Some of their mothers were in their early thirties. She could practically be their grandmother.
"Ow!" Cassidy said, jerking her head away. "Mom, that was burning me."
"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said, switching the dryer to 'cool' and blowing on her scalp. "I'm almost finished. Can you reach the dry oil?"
Cassidy pulled the Aveda Dry Oil from the cabinet. "Tell me when you're ready," she said.
Miranda turned off the dryer. "All set," she said, holding her hand out. Cassidy squirted some oil into Miranda's hand and Miranda softly ran it through her daughter's hair. "So beautiful, my baby," she said when she finished.
Cassidy stood and faced the mirror while Miranda used the vanity to help pull herself to her feet. Her knees were killing her, but she didn't want Cassidy to feel bad.
"Mom, I'm almost as tall as you," she said. "With my hair poofy like this, I'm as tall as your shoulders!"
"It's volume, darling, not 'poofy,' and I don't want you growing up so fast." She wrapped her arms around her from behind and kissed her on the cheek.
Cassidy rolled her eyes. "We'll always be your babies, Mom," she said, turning around and hugging her. "Thanks for doing my hair."
"You're welcome, darling. Did you still want to watch a movie?"
"No, I think I'm just going to play on my iPad for a while then go to bed. Is that okay?"
"Of course. I think I hear your sister in her room already. Goodnight, Cassidy. I love you."
"Goodnight, Mom. Love you, too," she said, crawling into bed. Miranda shut the door quietly, then walked through the bathroom to her other daughter's room. "Caroline?"
"Hi Mom," she said. "Are we still going to watch a movie?"
"Maybe tomorrow. Your sister is tired, and I have to go in early tomorrow morning," she said, remembering her 6:30 AM appointment with Gwendolyn. "Sweet dreams, darling," she said, kissing Caroline on the forehead. "I'll come say bye before I leave for work."
As she closed Caroline's door and made her way to her bedroom, she felt utterly exhausted, despite not doing much at all during the day. She proceeded to pick up the towels that Caroline left on her bathroom floor, then washed her face and crawled into bed, knowing her alarm would go off at 4:45 AM.
She drifted to sleep thinking of the young detective in Los Angeles—of her lips, her hands, her arms, and what it would feel like to have her arms around her while she slept…
"No! STOPP!" she screamed, jumping up into a sitting position.
TBC