I'm back.
~Naralanis
It was only once Miranda was enclosed in Andrea's vehicle – along with an over-excited child – that she came upon the realization that she and the brunette had never discussed the logistics of their little outing. While the paparazzi might not be too keen on remaining at Andrea's doorstep 24/7 anymore, West End was a completely different story. How on earth were two of the biggest names in fashion going to make their way in without throngs of people in their wake? Miranda knew Andrea did not wish for the photographers to hound her daughter, so something had to be done.
Despite her worrying realization, the editor neglected to point it out to her companion. Allie was excitedly naming all things she saw on the street – in French – while Andrea's hand drew wickedly lazy circles upon Miranda's thigh, so really it was forgivable. After zoning out for most of the ride, Miranda finally noticed the car had stopped by some building in construction.
It took her longer than she'd ever admit to realize that said building was the very theatre they were supposed to be seeing the children's musical in. She turned to Andrea, eyebrow preemptively cocked in question, but the brunette was busy speaking to the driver.
"Yes, just in there please." Andrea said, directing the vehicle into an entrance hidden by scaffolding. Several men in vests and hardhats walked about carrying bags of cement, tools, or miscellaneous pieces of construction material. One of them – a foreman of some sort, Miranda surmised – walked towards their car with a smile on his face. Upon his approach, Andrea beamed at him, while Allie giggled as if she were in on a big joke along with her mother.
"Hiya Ms. Saxton. Everything's up and ready for ya."
"Thank you, Jack. Looks good so far, any problems?"
"None whatsoever, Ms. Everyone's ready for ya, have a grand time."
Andrea let Allie out first, and the child bounded away with the so-called Jack. The brunette then quickly rounded the car to let an increasingly confused Miranda out.
"I thought we were here for a musical" Miranda confessed.
"So we are." Andrea replied, her smile never waning.
"Then why does it look like we're about to strike a deal with the mafia?"
Miranda would have found Andrea's snort of laughter rather ungrateful once upon a time, but it, along with so many other of the woman's qualities, had become rather endearing. It was unnerving.
"Worry not, Miranda; you're not escaping Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Even though the mafia is more your caliber." The brunette joked.
Miranda sniffed.
"Honey, you have no idea." She said, not expecting Andrea's startled expression in return. "What? Was it something I said?"
"You called me 'honey'. Miranda Priestly just called me 'honey'!"
Miranda blushed, thinking that her massively expensive Clé de Peau personalized foundation better be making itself worth the money by hiding it. Still, by Andrea's expression, it seemed it was a futile endeavor – she could see it in her eyes.
"Don't you dare get used to it." She threatened.
Andrea beamed.
"Wouldn't dream of it… peaches." The brunette added to a scandalized Miranda.
The editor was about to retort before she remembered where they were.
"What is the meaning of this? I was not aware the musical had some sort of industrial element to it." She quipped.
"I mean, it is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Andrea laughed. "But this little thing, well… There's no renovation. I just had it arranged so we wouldn't run into any crowds." She said sheepishly.
Miranda turned to her former assistant, unable to conceal her surprise.
"You… you hired a construction crew to give us privacy through scaffolding?"
"Of course not! I hired an acting troupe to play a construction crew to give us privacy through scaffolding." Andrea retorted.
"How… Who… How did you manage this – no, wait, more importantly, how did you cut through all the famous English bureaucracy to pull this off? I can think of at least a doze permits you would need to get this started." Miranda rambled, to Andrea's amusement.
"Let's just say I've got friends in high places. Also, actual renovations are scheduled to start tomorrow, so it's no biggie."
Miranda wanted very much to say that yes indeed it was a biggie, but she did not have the chance. An impatient Allie peered out from the theatre doors, motioning for the two to join her.
"Hello! Mum! We're going to be late, do you want them to start without us?"
The editor wanted to laugh; she doubted anyone would start anything without Andrea's presence.
"We'll be right there, sweetheart. Why don't you grab us some seats?" Andrea countered, stopping Miranda in her tracks after Allie huffed and went back in.
"Before we go in, I just need to say something…" she said, her voice as timid as it had been when she was Miranda's assistant.
"Oh?" Miranda said simply.
"As much as I would like to, this is not quite an entirely private viewing."
"Oh."
"There are only a few people there – couples mostly. I figured Allie would have more fun seeing this with some of her friends from school rather than with some boring adults like us, and she hasn't seem them in a while because of the whole paparazzi thing, so I just thought… Anyway, it's just a few kids and their parents, but I can assure you everyone has been properly warned and no one will breathe a word of this to anyone and I just wanted to…"
Andrea was stopped in her worried tirade by a gentle finger to her lips.
"Andrea. I am sure everything will go swimmingly. I only wish for you to stop your babbling. It truly doesn't become someone like Alexandra Saxton." Miranda said softly.
The brunette smiled.
"Sorry. I promise everyone will be uh… cool about it, I just wasn't sure what your thoughts would be." She confessed.
Miranda chuckled.
"No need to worry, I promise I will be… cool about it."
In a fit of brazenness, Miranda took Andrea's arm and confidently walked into the theatre – she could already hear Allie's and other children's impatient shouts. Instead of fretting about it, she took the bull by the horns – or rather, her lover by the arm – and strode into the mostly vacant theatre. She could see a small conglomeration of children close to the stage; some adults conversed a few rows back.
"Miranda, these are some of our friends – their kids all know Allie from school. Everyone, this is Miranda" Andrea introduced them, and Miranda could not help but notice the little hint of pride in her voice. It made her smile.
Instantly she recognized a few faces in the crowd. Diplomats, a famous British children's author, a big-time Iranian designer, and a well-known Russian photographer were among them. It seemed Alexandra Saxton and Andrea kept the same circle of friends, at least.
The children's excitement did not allow much time for full introductions, but nevertheless, the group struck Miranda as quite respectful of whatever relationship she and Andrea shared. No one asked questions, no one even seemed to notice as the two women sat by one another, holding hands. Maybe the presence of another same-sex couple helped – the author and his husband were very openly affectionate. Miranda was thankful for the absolute lack of interest. There was no need to discuss whatever they had with other people, not yet, not when they had yet to figure out a way to navigate their relationship.
Thankfully, all such thoughts were immediately banished as the lights darkened and a string of dancers wearing heavy orange make-up came down the aisles between seats. Miranda barely caught the bar of chocolate as it was tossed in her direction; the children went wild.
"Oy, vey." She murmured to herself. Andrea chuckled.
Claire got out of her steaming hot bath after a good hour of soaking. Her fingers and toes were pruned from the long time in the water, but she did not mind; a good bath was wonderful for her tired muscles.
She had gone out for a run in the morning, which turned into an impromptu walking field trip through the city that lasted all the way into the afternoon. Even in her excellent shape, she knew she had pushed it; her joints would surely be complaining tomorrow.
Still, she had no regrets. It had been a wonderfully sunny day, and she actually enjoyed the outing. Truthfully, she would have found any excuse to be out of the house when Miranda Priestly came back.
She huffed, toweling her short hair in annoyance. It needed another cut, soon. As much as she hated the Runway Editor, she had to admit the hairstyle suited her. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery and all that. In any case, she hopefully would not have to deal with the woman any time soon – Miranda was due back in New York by the next day, so whatever she had going on with Andrea would be at least on pause until then. On a professional setting, Claire could function. It was when things got personal that all shit hit the fan.
She hated what Miranda Priestly did to Andy. Not exactly what she did, but how it made Andy feel. Before now, anytime the name 'Priestly' was even so much as whispered in her direction, Andrea would have a near-panic attack. Who knew that all she needed was for the Bitch in Heels to swoon over some sketches for her to find some courage that didn't come from a bottle?
Claire felt remotely bad for being so harsh on her boss; her ex-girlfriend; her friend. Still, all she had wanted was to protect her and little Allie from whatever heartbreak was sure to come from the Ice Queen. How many husbands had that woman gone through over the years? How many careers had she destroyed?
The blonde was interrupted from her musings with the sound of the back door being unlocked. Despite knowing Andrea's security detail was present, her heart skipped a beat. Who on earth would be coming in from the back door at this hour? Andrea's outing was surely not over, and Bartley always made his presence known via the intercom.
With trepidation, Claire slowly made her way downstairs in her robe, wishing she had let Andrea keep that blasted baseball bat around. Whoever had just come in did not care to be quiet; they stomped around like they owned the place.
Purely instinctively, Claire grabbed one of the silver candelabras from the side table in the corridor. Just in case?
"Who goes there?!" she shouted.
Her exclamation was promptly followed by a resounding crash and a yelp of pain. Claire ran towards the intruder, only to find none other than the one other person she could say she hated in the world under the heavy wrought-iron coat rack.
"Mrs. Sachs?"
After one of the most awkward reintroductions she had ever been through – which consisted of her lifting the coatrack and then tending to the older woman's knee, all in her bathrobe – Claire found herself in the kitchen making tea for Helen Sachs.
A day like this one warranted an early night.
"I am so sorry for just coming in here. Andy didn't tell me she'd be out today." Helen said apologetically.
"It's quite alright. I wasn't aware that she had given you keys." Claire said coldly. For Andrea's sake, she'd be civil to her mother. Anything more than mere civility was off the table as far as Helen Sachs was concerned.
"Oh, yes. She only gave them to me last week, really. So I wouldn't go through all that security, you know? I guess it's a long way from jumping the back gate, huh?" Helen Sachs babbled on, much like her daughter used to do when she was nervous. Claire said nothing.
"Anyway, thank you for the ice-pack. That coat rack is so gosh-darn heavy, I wonder how I even knocked it over in the first place." The older woman continued, wringing her hands together. The tall blonde sitting across from her only sipped her tea.
"Oh well, I guess I'm just such a klutz, you know. Wonder how I can even walk without tripping everywhere, Andy is just like that. Or well, she used to be when she was a teenager, gee, you wouldn't know it was the same woman walking around those stilettos today, it's just so…"
The more Helen Sachs babbled, the more attention Claire paid to her tea. It took a few more false starts until the older woman could determine Claire Murdoch did not care for small talk.
"Well… this is quite awkward, isn't it?" Mrs. Sachs said at last.
"Indeed, it is." Claire agreed.
"You must hate the very sight of me."
"You assume correctly."
Claire's assumption did not seem to startle or upset the Sachs matriarch, which confused her greatly. Instead, Helen merely laughed; an empty, bitter and defeated kind of laugh.
"I don't blame you, Claire. I said and did some horrible, horrible things to you… to Andy, to my own daughter. I was nothing short of a… I was really a complete and utter- "
"A complete and utter bitch." Claire completed, getting another bitter chuckle from Helen.
"That's right. But… I'm never, ever going to ask you or Andy for forgiveness. What I've done, there's no forgiveness for that. For turning my own daughter away. I saw you as some wicked woman who had seduced my daughter somehow… But now I know better. I can only apologize; God knows it isn't enough, but I apologize."
Claire merely nodded in acknowledgement. She knew Andrea had been meeting with her mother almost weekly in order to rebuild their relationship and introduce her to her granddaughter. And while part of her commended the two women for trying to work it out, she would never, ever be able to forget the pain Helen had caused her own daughter and herself. No, Helen Sachs and Miranda Priestly would always be at the top of her "Could Live Without" list.
"Frankly, Mrs. Sachs, thank you for your apology. I cannot and I will not accept it for now. Andy is out for the day, would you like me to give her a message that you stopped by?" The dismissal was clear, though Helen Sachs did not seem bothered by it in the least.
"Oh, no. That's very kind of you, but… I wanted to tell Andy in person, but I guess I can leave a voicemail or something. I have a flight to the States tonight."
Claire quirked an eyebrow. Tonight? For all she knew, Mrs. Sachs was planning on staying in London for at least another month or so, to get to know her granddaughter.
"So soon?" She asked despite herself.
"Well, yes. I have got some urgent business to attend to"
The woman's timidly sad tone took the blonde by surprise. What sort of 'urgent business would a retired teacher need to attend to?
"Urgent business? May I ask what it is about?"
Helen Sachs looked as if she was debating telling her for a moment, before conceding.
"Please do not speak to Andy before she receives my message. It's her father."
"Her father?" Claire asked. Andy's break from her father had been even more bitter than from her mother's. Her knowledge from Andy's recent conversations with her mother informed her that the Sachs' had separated a few years ago.
"Yes, well. I am still technically his wife, and… He's sick."
WHEW! Sorry I've been away for such an ungodly amount of time. Real life was taking over, but mostly in a good way! Ya girl just GRADUATED with a BA and a shiny 4.0! So very sorry for this intermission, it was for a good cause, but we are back to business. Thank you all for your support, your reviews, and your messages begging me to continue with this story. You make this all worthwhile. Onwards!
