Chapter 4

Although the trial did not conclude early, Miranda didn't use any of the incriminating information Andy included in the article, perhaps because she had no need. Andy was surprised Stephen didn't settle out of court, but it was possible Miranda was unwilling to give him anything, and he was too stupid to admit defeat. When the verdict came back with a resounding, "You ain't getting shit!" on Friday, Andy didn't even try to withhold the broad smile that split her face. She would have whooped out loud if she thought she could get away with it. As it was, the crowd in the gallery erupted in a cacophony of conversations while reporters rushed the doors to get their copy in to their publications. Andy stayed in place, taking a few photos of her finished sketches to send to CNN.

The first picture was of Stephen dragging himself up the aisle, head hanging, coins and dollar bills spilling out of his pockets. Each coin had Miranda's face, and each bill has a different word like "cheat," "embezzle," "fraud." People gawked at him, and a child was bending toward a coin, his mother holding his hand back and shaking her head.

The second picture was of Miranda in all her glory: eyes blue as the sky, signature white coiffure, smirk in place, head tilted, hips caught in a well-known sway as she strode up the aisle. She wore a fitted aubergine dress that highlighted her figure and coloring. Andy was surprised to find she recognized it as the work of Roland Mouret, a distinguished French designer. I guess some of the lessons I learned at Runway stuck. Andy drew Miranda wearing an open forest-green fur coat with bell sleeves and over-sized lapels—the look told everyone that she knew what she liked and was wearing it no matter what anyone else thought. No look would be complete without her Prada heels. She looked regal and victorious and vindicated.

Once she submitted the drawings, Andy packed up her belongings and stood. It was then she noticed Elizabeth Conway waiting for her with a small smile. "I liked your article, Andy."

Andy chuckled. "Thanks." She made her way to the aisle and fell into step with the attorney.

"Miranda's waiting for you in her car if you are available to see her."

"Oh." Andy hadn't expected Miranda would want to see her so soon.

"But if you aren't available, she's glad to schedule a meeting at another time," Elizabeth added.

As Andy processed those words, she stopped walking, cocking her head. People walked around them, but Andy paid them no mind. It boggled her mind to hear Miranda was willing to work around her schedule. She blinked several times in quick succession, astounded to find she was fighting tears. Dramatic much? She chided herself. Hearing a gentle clearing of throat, Andy realized the attorney was waiting for a response. "Now's fine," she said with a smile and nod. They began walking down the main staircase, and Andy glanced at her clothes, fretting. She wore black Chanel pleated wool trousers and a vintage jade-green cashmere sweater she found at a designer resale shop. She had shined her Giuseppe Zanotti ankle-high black leather boots this morning, so she knew they looked good. As they made their way outside, Andy pulled on the black Rebecca Taylor winter coat she'd snagged while working at Runway, but she chose not to don her green knit hat or matching gloves. No need to look like a total dork in front of the Fashion Queen.

"Have a good evening, Andy," Elizabeth said, a smile directed Andy's way before she turned away.

Andy opened her mouth to ask her where Miranda was when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

"Roy," Andy said in surprise. She should have realized he would be driving Miranda. It was nice to see a familiar face.

"Nice to see you. Ready for Christmas?" he asked when Andy got close enough.

"Just about. I have a few more gifts to get, but I have some ideas in mind. How about you?"

"All set, thanks to the missus. She takes care of most of it. Well, if I don't see you beforehand, happy holidays." He opened the back door for her, a smile on his lips.

"You, too." Andy wasn't looking at him, though. She was peering inside the car, captured by a penetrating stare. She slid in to the interior, focused on Miranda. "Hello." She stopped herself from saying anything else, something she'd worked on as a newspaper reporter once she began interviewing people. It was hard for her not to break the silence, but she'd learned that most people tended to fill it.

"Hello, Andrea." Miranda had a small smile on her face. "Is this a good time for you?"

"Yes." She hesitated, finding it hard to believe that Miranda had nothing better to do. After all, she'd just spend the last two weeks in court. "How are you?"

A soft look was directed Andy's way, leaving her breathless. "Much better now that the trial is concluded. It was an utter waste of my time, although your entertaining sketches helped me not to lose my mind."

"Well, um," Andy paused, not sure how to respond. "I'm glad you liked them?" She winced as she heard the question in her remark.

Miranda chuckled. "Yes, I did. In fact, it made me wonder what other talents you kept hidden during all those months you worked for me. For example, you've turned into a passable writer."

Feeling her eyes widen, Andy sucked in a breath. "That's kind of you to say. Thank you, Miranda."

"It was unfortunate, although not unexpected, that the Mirror turned digital. Print media is an antiquated industry. We're all feeling the threat of technology. That coupled with people who are always on the go, their attention spans shortened by their need for instant gratification." Miranda shrugged. "Even my girls seem unwilling to read for more than a few minutes at a time."

"I guess I'm part of a dying breed. I prefer to have a hard copy in my hands instead of a tablet." Andy looked down at her lap, her hands resting on top of her sketchpad.

"May I see?" Miranda asked, gesturing toward it.

"Oh, um, yeah. Sure." Andy cleared her throat, as she handed over the drawings. She stared out the window, willing herself not to stare at the editor. Andy was afraid to see her reaction to the drawings. It was too easy to imagine the well-known pursing of lips, signifying her disapproval.

"Did you send in all of them or choose a small selection to submit for publication?"

Andy looked over at Miranda. "I chose them." Blue eyes met hers, and Andy held back a gasp when she noticed how dark they appeared.

"You have a discerning eye. Your attention to detail is what sets these sketches apart. For those who know where to look, you reveal so much." She tapped the pad with her index finger. "For example, these drawings of me."

Andy folded into herself, and she felt her face heat up. This was it. Miranda was going to mock her. She was going to point out how inept Andy was with capturing court events, or really at memorializing anything. A soft sigh interrupted Andy's thoughts. Biting her lower lip, she glanced up through her eyelashes, daring to peek at the editor. Andy didn't recognize the expression on Miranda's face, but it made her feel as if she were sipping hot cocoa while watching snow fall outside. She unfurled into the comfort of the car's leather seat, releasing her insecurities, and tilted her head in question. A warm hand landed on her knee, as Miranda began to speak.

"I told you once that you were able to see beyond what others wanted and choose what was the best course of action. These drawings reflect that ability. Is there bias in them? Yes. Of course. But not without reason. I saw it in your drawings for other trials, too. You control the narrative without saying a word. Hold on to these pictures, Andrea. Some day in the not-too-distant future, others will want to buy them. You are witnessing some of the most notorious court proceedings, capturing the salient points of them, and providing commentary, to boot."

"I don't know what to say, Miranda. I think you give me too much credit." Andy's eyes blurred, and she wiped away the wetness. Miranda's words meant so much. They validated Andy's work. She was certain that Miranda would never say something she didn't mean. It's why people across the industry trusted Miranda's word.

Andy eeped when Miranda squeezed her knee. "Not at all. I am very interested to know what you were thinking when you sketched this one," she said, pointing to a sketch of Miranda sitting at trial, a pensive look on her face.

It was one of the sketches Andy didn't submit. She drew it early in the trial. Miranda seemed far away at that moment, and Andy felt compelled to draw her. An air of solemnity pervaded the scene, swirling grays and blues enveloping Miranda.

"You seemed sad. Tired—not so much in a physical sense, but perhaps mentally or emotionally. Resolved. I could see that you were ready to fight Stephen and put that relationship behind you."

Miranda hummed. Before she could say anything, the car stopped. "I hope you don't mind if we stop for a bite to eat. I'm famished."

"Oh, not at all."

"Good." Miranda exited the car and surprised Andy by extending a hand to her. After a small pause, Andy grasped it and climbed out of the car. Miranda tucked Andy's hand into the crook of her elbow, and they walked into a nondescript building.

"Where are we?"

"The Meatpacking District. This is an exclusive members-only restaurant a dear friend of mine opened a few months ago."

A tall, thin man approached them at a brisk pace, his arms extended.

"Stefano, thank you for having us."

"Miranda, you are always welcome here," he answered, leaning in to deliver a kiss next to each cheek before turning his attention to Andy. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"Andrea, this is Stefano, one of the best chefs in the city and a childhood friend. He's like the younger brother I never wanted." She chuckled at the look of outrage that crossed his face. "Stefano, Andrea is the courtroom sketch artist I mentioned."

Stefano's eyes widened, a boyish grin transforming his face. "This is your Andrea?" he asked before redirecting his gaze to Andy. "I've been following you for months. Your drawings are extraordinary. I am honored to meet you." He bowed low before Andy, who felt her face flush with the attention.

Andy noticed some of the nearby patrons glancing their way, no doubt their attention drawn by Stefano's exuberant reaction. He wore a ten-button executive white chef coat with black trim, his name embroidered on his breast pocket, and a black toque. With his jet-black hair, heavy dark eyes, and muscular build, he attracted many interested eyes, but Andy found her eyes returning to the woman beside her.

"Thank you. You're too kind." Andy slipped her hand from Miranda's elbow and pulled on her fingers, struggling to keep his gaze. She knew her drawings were good, but being the focus of anyone's attention while with Miranda was nerve-wracking. She felt pressure on her lower back, and warmth stole through her when she realized it was Miranda's hand. She struggled not to sink into the subtle support.

"And well-deserved," Miranda murmured. "Shall we?"

"Of course. Please come this way." Stefano swept his hand out before them.

They sat in a cozy booth toward the back, the dark wood of the table and comfortable leather seats screaming opulence. Across from them crackled a roaring fire in a gigantic stone hearth. A blood-red velvet curtain separated them from the adjoining table, creating privacy and a feeling of intimacy. Andy didn't see a menu, but she didn't dare ask.

The sommelier came to their table with two glasses of prosecco, the dry, sparkling white wine aperitif a perfect beginning to their meal. After taking a sip and humming her approval, Andy glanced at Miranda, surprised to find her staring. Andy held her breath, allowing herself to study the editor. Her eyes were shadowed, the low lighting adding to the ambiance but robbing Andy of the crystal-clear eyes she'd memorized long ago.

"That sketch we were discussing in the car. You told me what you saw when you drew me. Now let me tell you what I saw."

Miranda leaned forward and placed her hand on Andy's hand. Andy gasped. Since day one of knowing Miranda, Andy was instructed never to touch Miranda. She assumed it had to do with the editor not liking to be touched. Over her brief tenure as junior assistant, Andy saw time and again how others were careful not to crowd Miranda. Even those Miranda knew well would lean in for air kisses, not quite touching her. Yet Miranda was touching Andy—had done so several times. Andy didn't know what to make of how tactile she was acting. Each touch made Andy's heart race.

Miranda's hand was soft, her palm warm over the back of Andy's hand. Andy resisted the urge to flip over her hand, pushing away all erotic thoughts of their palms rubbing together were she to take such action. It led to other thoughts, other urges, other fantasies that she dared not entertain while in the same room as Miranda. Andy sipped from her glass, using it as a shield while she fought to contain her emotions. Miranda's smooth voice caught Andy's attention once more.

"You used cool colors to portray the courtroom, but warm colors for my face, my clothes, even the air surrounding me. My eyes reflected deep thought, my lips determination, my forehead serenity, and my body language acceptance. Whenever you sketched Stephen, his features were always washed out, sharp, and cold, whereas your drawings of me were always warm, soft, and open. That drawing, though, told me more. It told me you were really seeing me. You understood what I was feeling. It reminded me how you always did see me, even when I was unkind to you."

Miranda squeezed Andy's hand before pulling back enough to slot their fingers together, causing Andy to shudder. She stared at their joined hands, mesmerized as Miranda rubbed the vee between Andy's thumb and forefinger with her thumb. She whispered, "And I saw more, Andrea. I saw how much you care for me, even after all this time, even after I rejected your attempts to help me when my world was falling apart in Paris, even after I dared to voice such egocentric hubris as to compare you to me. Every one of your drawings shouted to me that you still care, and I cannot walk away without attempting to claim that affection and admitting my own feelings for you."

"Holy shit," Andy whispered, heat rushing to her cheeks when she realized what she said out loud. She glanced over to find Miranda smirking at her. "You have feelings for me?"

"I do. I would like to explore them with you. Are you willing?"

"Yes." Andy smiled so widely her cheeks hurt. A moment later she nearly wept with joy when Miranda smiled. It transformed her face, lit her up from within, and Andy's fingers itched to reduce the vision to paper. The promise of more opportunities stopped Andy from whipping out a pen and drawing on the cloth napkin. She settled for soaking in being on the receiving end of that wondrous smile, watching as Miranda's eyes softened, a tender look crossing her visage as their gazes held.

A server arrived with roasted scallops and a matching wine, other plates and wine pairings arriving as soon as they finished the food before them. Andy loved everything the chef sent, and she relaxed into the experience, grateful to be spending this time with Miranda. Andy felt sadness steal through her while they drank their cognac, the digestif coating her tongue and warming her belly. She stared at the fire, not wanting the evening to end.

"What are your plans for the holidays, Andrea? Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"I do. I'm going back to Ohio next Thursday to visit my family, but I'll return on December 30th to ring in the New Year here." Andy fiddled with the stem of her glass. "I realize you are a busy woman, but do you think we can see each other before I leave?"

"I would like that. In fact, if you don't mind sharing me, I'd love for you to come to my home for dinner with me and the girls on Sunday. They admire your drawings, and they miss talking to you."

Andy's eyebrows rose. "I'd love to come over. I'm surprised your daughters remember me. It's been a while."

"You were nicer to them than most of my other assistants, even after they tricked you into climbing the stairs the first time you delivered the Book."

A laugh burbled up, as Andy remembered how terrifying those moments were and how unpleasant the fallout was. Time had helped her to reassess that disaster and so many other moments she experienced while working for Miranda. She could see the humorous aspects of it, the naivety she wore like a cloak. "Well, after I got them the Harry Potter manuscript, they seemed to tolerate my presence. That, and I questioned everything they said to me instead of blindly trusting them."

Once out of the restaurant, Miranda insisted she drop Andy off at her apartment. They sat during the car ride in silence, their hands clasped loosely between them. Andy felt giddy, her mind whirling as she tried to grasp all that happened. Feeling the car stop, Andy turned toward Miranda. "Thank you for a wonderful evening. I'm looking forward to Sunday."

"As am I."

Although she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss Miranda, Andy recognized the large risk Miranda had already taken by revealing her feelings. She would wait for Miranda to initiate any further intimacies between them. The last thing she wanted was to risk her chance of spending more time with Miranda. She squeezed Miranda's hand before letting go. "Good night, Miranda."

"Good night, Andrea."

Andy climbed the apartment stairs and waved at Miranda, even though she couldn't see her through the tinted windows, before moving inside the building. A smile split her face as she made her way to her apartment. As soon as she walked inside, she saw Lily on the couch, wine glass in hand.

"You look like you had a good day."

"I did. The trial ended, Miranda took me to dinner, and I'm seeing her again on Sunday." Before Lily could utter a word, Andy walked toward her room. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Now I just want to live in this haze of pure bliss and fall asleep remembering her smile."

She closed her bedroom door and fell on her bed. She was astounded by all that happened. Before she went to sleep, she sent a text to Miranda, telling her how much she enjoyed dinner. The reply text made Andy feel on top of the world.

It said, "That was the first of many meals we will share. And I look forward to sharing other firsts with you. Sleep well."