The Guest Editor – Chapter Four
A/N: Hello! I hope this chapter doesn't sound too rushed. I've crammed a lot in! I'm keeping the second 'e' in 'Priestley' for now. It looks more natural. I'll probably change it later. I hope you enjoy!
"Miranda Priestley's office, how can I help you?"
"Andy? It's really you?" came the voice down the line.
"This is Andrea Sachs, who is this?"
"I'm almost offended you don't remember us."
"It has been some time since I worked for your Mom. I'm surprised that you remember me! Now, which twin am I talking to you?" Andy smiled into the phone.
"So you did know who it was."
"I know it's one of the twins."
"Are you going to guess which one?"
"Nope. You tell me."
"It's Cassidy. I'm calling to thank you for the flowers. We were trying to work out who 'AS' was, took us most of the afternoon."
"How's your Mom?"
"She hasn't woken up yet." Cassidy sighed. "Are you coming to visit?"
"I—" Andy was tempted to try and dodge the question. She was here to edit, not to nurse.
"Andy?"
"Well—"
"You know she missed you after you left. I remember she came home Paris all flustered that year…and a bit bitter. We didn't ask her what was wrong, but you stopped delivering The Book so we kind of guessed you had left. She would have said if she had fired you. So you must have quit…"
"Yes, I quit."
"She didn't hate you enough to ruin you. That's a plus right?"
"I'm still surprised she didn't."
"I read some of your stuff in the newspapers from time to time. How come you are back at Runway? The note was watermarked."
'Of course it was.' Andy thought. "Your Mom wanted me to take over whilst she is sick," she said gently.
"That's great!"
"There is a lot to be done."
"There always is at this time of year. The fashion weeks are coming, I guess Mom won't be able to make it. Will you be going instead?"
"I really don't know. I'm not sure I'll be in her chair for that long. Depends on your Mom."
"Mom is unconscious in a hospital bed right now."
"I know and I'm sorry."
"What for? You aren't the incompetent assistant who gave her a heart attack? I never did like her any way…none of her assistants were as impressive as you."
"Cassidy, I had my reasons."
"I'm sure you did, but you're back now and that's what matters. No point dwelling on the past."
"I guess not."
"So will you be visiting her?"
"Cassidy—"
"I understand you have a lot to do."
"What I was going to say Cassidy," Andy smiled into the phone, "is that I'll drop by tomorrow afternoon."
"If she's awake, I'm sure she'll appreciate it."
"I'll give you my cell number so you can get in touch if anything changes. I'll be working from home all day tomorrow."
Andy and Cassidy exchanged contact details for herself and Caroline.
"Andy?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you leave?"
Andy groaned. It was the million dollar question.
"Andy?"
She decided that honesty was the best policy. "Your Mom did something to a friend of mine that was cruel and humiliating and then made me realise that I had done something similar to somebody else and I didn't want to be that person anymore."
"Oh," came Cassidy's voice down the line.
"Yeah, well as you said, it's all in the past. No point dwelling on it. Besides, we've all moved on."
"I'm not sure she has?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's just…ah just forget I said anything."
"Cassidy!?"
"Well why did she ask you? You, of all people to come back? You to take over?"
"I don't know."
"Andy?"
"That's the truth of it."
"I suppose we can only ask when she wakes up."
"I guess so. Listen, I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. I'll text you. Call if there is any change in her condition."
"Sure."
"Look after yourself Cassidy. Say hello to Caroline for me."
"Good luck Andy. We'll be there when you visit tomorrow."
"I look forward to it."
"See you then."
"Good bye!" Andy hung up. She slumped in her old office chair as she contemplated Cassidy's words. Had Miranda moved on? Surely she had if she was going to let Andy edit Runway. She decided not to dwell any further on it and left to take the subway home.
Andy spent most of her Sunday going through fashion magazines in her apartment whilst listening to music on her iPod. The sun was streaming through the windows as she worked. Her apartment was the loft of a converted warehouse, still on the Lower East Side but in much better shape than the walk up she had shared with Nate ever was. In any case, the place she had shared with the chef who had gone to Boston had been condemned and demolished six years ago.
She ate lunch on the subway on the way to the hospital, she supposed she could have called for a car but it was the weekend. Andy didn't want to adopt the editorial executive persona quite yet. Tomorrow would be the day for power dressing and intimidation. A small part of her wondered if she could scare everybody the next morning with a whirlwind arrival before she remembered that she intended to be the first one in on Monday morning. Miranda striking the fear of god into everybody on the nineteenth floor of the Elias-Clarke building every morning would forever impress her. Andy wasn't quite so sure she could imitate it.
Although the Miranda who scared the clackers every morning seemed only distantly related to the patient lying in the hospital bed in front of her, hooked up to countless machines and displays. Andy just stood there for a moment, trying to take it all in. Miranda looked so small in the bed. Without the killer heels she tended to wear, Andy had forgotten how small Miranda actually was. Her hair was a mess and the lack of make-up aged her otherwise youthful features. No doubt Miranda would have called her hospital gown a crime against fashion if she was awake to see it.
It hadn't registered with Andy that this was the first time that she had been in the same room as Miranda since Paris all those years ago. She'd seen her on TV and read the magazine from time to time but any personal connection had died. All her connections with Runway quickly evaporated once she had quit. Calling Emily to give her the rest of the clothes from Paris had been the last time she had heard from the British assistant, now artistic director.
Changing address once Nate had left for Boston probably didn't help any effort to stay in touch. Neither did leaving the Mirror months after she had started to start working freelance. Nor did having her bag containing her phone and address book stolen on the subway one evening. She supposed they could have contacted her – her credentials were readily available online – but they didn't. Besides, she made new friends every time she took up a new job.
Friends or colleagues? Lily moved to LA soon after Nate left for Boston. Doug was her only friend left from the 'old' days but they saw each other less than they would have liked. 'Friends' she made at the Mirror or Associated Press or Reuters quickly became acquaintances retained on Facebook for future reference – that or she followed them on Twitter. What journalist didn't have Twitter? A quick check on Andy's phone established that Miranda had an account on the social network – albeit having only sent eight tweets and having been left unused since 2010.
She could not imagine Miranda texting, let alone tweeting.
The twins arrived moments after Andy did so, snapping her out of her reverie.
Caroline and Cassidy would still look identical had Caroline not cut her hair. She was sporting a pixie-cut. Cassidy had her long hair hunched into a pony tail. Both were staring at screens.
They hadn't noticed her at first. Then Cassidy looked up from her phone.
"Andy!" she said brightly, " you came!" crossing the room to hug her.
"Yeah," Andy replied as they hugged. "You've grown."
The twins gave her a look as if to say 'duh?"
"I guess this is a 'welcome back'," Caroline sighed.
"Cassidy said I was missed." Andy hugged Caroline.
"She missed you most." Caroline gestured to Miranda.
"She told me that too Caroline."
"How are you coping?"
"Fine." Caroline said. Cassidy nodded.
"So what's the diagnosis?" Andy looked at the hospital bed.
"Mom had a ST segment elevation myocardial infarction or STEMI. One of her coronary arteries had a blockage. The surgeons operated on her after she came into the ER. They cleared the blockage and installed a stent. She's been dosed up on medication ever since. If all goes to plan, she can come out of hospital in two weeks," explained Caroline.
"She won't like that." Andy said.
"No but that's what the doctor said and I agree with him," said Caroline.
"No need to show off Caroline. You haven't graduated yet," groaned Cassidy.
"Wait, you're 21, both of you. You should have graduated."
"I'm reading Medicine at Oxford." Caroline said. "She, on the other hand, just finished an English degree."
"Where did you go Cassidy?"
"Princeton."
"How did you find it?"
"It was great. Not sure what to do next though."
"Yeah, figures. I didn't know what I wanted to do once I graduated from Northwestern."
"But you still came to work for Mom," Caroline said. "I've got another four years at Oxford to get through."
"I still haven't decided if working for your Mom was a blessing or a curse," Andy smiled.
"She respects you, you know." Cassidy said, looking at her mother on the bed.
"Who know what goes on in her mind? She left editing Runway to a political journalist so go figure."
"But you're good at what you do. The Times is a good paper. We Googled some of your articles last night. They're interesting." Caroline insisted.
"The first day I started working for your Mom, I didn't know who she was and I had never, ever read the magazine. I had absolutely no head for fashion, I still don't. I worked for your Mom for less than a year. That's all my experience of the fashion industry. So beyond editing, I really don't have a clue what I'm doing."
"You'll learn." Caroline said confidently.
"Quickly." Cassidy added.
"I guess I will."
"What's it like, working for the New York Times?" Cassidy was genuinely interested. Being a journalist was an option that was open to her.
Andy talked to the twins for what seemed like hours. They managed to avoid the subject of Andy suddenly upping sticks and disappearing for the time being and only left Miranda's room when the nurse chivvied them away.
They didn't realise that Miranda had been listening to them talk the whole time.
"Well this has been fun guys. I should be going."
"We should have lunch one day, and you should visit again." Cassidy said.
"You've got my number."
"I'll call your assistant and arrange it."
"You probably know where to have lunch around here better than me. I usually settle for a bagel or a wrap or something at my desk."
"We'll have to treat you then," smiled Caroline.
"It was good to see you both."
"Likewise."
"Call me if her condition changes."
"Of course."
"Do you want a lift Andy?" asked Cassidy, gesturing at a cab waiting at the kerb.
"I think I'll enjoy a walk in the park. But thanks for the offer."
"We'll be in touch!" called Caroline.
"I look forward to it!" Andy replied.
Monday morning came all too quickly.
Emily Charlton hadn't enjoyed her weekend off. Weekends off were a rarity. Had it been in more pleasant circumstances, she might have actually been able to relax or go shopping. As it happened, she spent most of it in her apartment clutching her phone waiting for either Nigel or the Twins to call her. Serena had taken her out for lunch on both days, and dinner but she had little to no appetite. Her boss could be on her deathbed and she could do nothing for her.
Monday put her in a panic. Nigel had told her not to come in until Monday morning and then she had received a text from him telling her that they would be meeting in Miranda's office at seven thirty on Monday morning. It was logical that she would take over Runway whilst Miranda was away. This merely confirmed it. Although looking back in hindsight, Emily wondered how her addled mind could delude itself in such a manner. She had been Deputy Artistic Director for three years before Nigel left to set up Men's Runway four years ago. Then she was promoted to his old job. She was experienced. She was loyal. She was dedicated to the magazine. Why shouldn't she become the Acting Editor-in-Chief?
Emily had forgotten that there was more to editing Runway than simply photographs and font styles.
Nigel on the other hand was just looking forward to the fireworks in Miranda's office when Emily discovered who would be taking Miranda's chair for the next month. If he wanted to take the experience further, he could have brought popcorn. Although that would have been very professional. He was immaculately dressed that morning, as always.
He got to the office at seven twenty-five that morning to find the Runway offices very empty. It seemed that everybody complied with his instructions not to enter the office until seven thirty. Miranda's office door was uncharacteristically closed. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen, but Andy's old desk was now occupied by a blonde he had never seen before.
"You must be her new assistant." Nigel said.
"Charlotte Kershaw. You must be Mr Kipling."
"Nigel, please."
"You can go on through, she's expecting you."
"Has Emily arrived yet? We have a seven thirty?"
"Not yet, I'll send her through when she gets here."
"Thank you." He went over to the door to the lion's den – or what had been the equivalent of the lion's den when Miranda was queen of all she surveyed. He swallowed, not knowing what to expect before knocking politely.
"Come in!" Andy called from within.
She looked good. There was no denying it. Safe. Classic. Timeless. She obviously hadn't forgotten everything he taught her in the Closet. The black Chanel blazer was back, coupled with the Louboutins and white blouse. The skirt was once again unremarkable, but the cut suited her. She was wearing her hair down.
She was glaring at the door before Nigel entered, though her expression quickly softened when she saw her visitor.
"Expecting somebody else?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
"No, trying to work this crossword clue out," said Andy, exasperated. Only then did Nigel recognise the day's Times spread out on Miranda's desk. He chuckled.
"What's the clue?"
"Krupp Works city."
"Got any of the letters?"
"Nope. I know the name 'Krupp' though. It's German. Ah well, no chance of beating my personal best today." Andy flung the paper aside, swivelling her chair to look out of the window.
"What is your personal best?"
"About 15 minutes. Tell me Nigel," she beckoned him to the window. "What do you see?"
"Sixth Avenue on a Monday morning."
"Do you think they know what is done in this office? Do you know if they think it is important? How many people do you see reading Runway or Vogue in the morning?"
"None. But that doesn't mean that they don't read it. Neither does it mean that it's unimportant."
"Can I just say, reading back to back editions of those magazines, bored me to tears yesterday."
"Well—"
"I mean, who actually needs fifteen pages on accessories, most of which cost more than my monthly rent?"
"Well—"
"It's just all a bit predictable. December issue – snow scene for the cover. August issue – beach scenes. It's almost boring."
"Maybe that's why she has brought you in."
"Perhaps. But I can't see the magazine reaching new audiences if it is just more and more of the same. I looked at the numbers over the weekend, the print edition barely covers its costs. Runway makes its money online through advertising revenue. I still think it's insane that we spend a quarter of a million dollars on a single photo shoot. It's insane."
"Its high quality."
"But I bet it can be done cheaper. All you need is a guy with a decent camera, a model, the clothes and a good images editor. You don't need to hire out a load of divas every time for a shoot that you are likely to have redone any way."
"You're in charge."
"I know."
"So do something about it. You've got the power. Why the hell are you complaining to me? This is your ship now Andy. You've got everybody at your beck and call. In essence, you're this month's Miranda. You certainly look the part."
"So I've got some ideas," she said. "Wait, what did you say?"
"You certainly look the part?"
"No before that."
"I said you're in charge, why are you complaining to me and in essence…"
"That's it!" she said excitedly, snatching her discarded crossword puzzle from the floor. "Essen," she said, sitting in her chair with her back to the door, scribbling in the word.
"Pardon?"
"Krupp works city. Krupp are based in Essen in Germany."
"Right, well. As I said, you're the one in charge. You get to make the decisions."
"I've got some ideas," she turned to look out of the window.
There was knock at the door.
"Come in," called Andy.
Emily saw Nigel first.
"Nigel," she said, looking up from her phone, "Miranda had surgery over the weekend. She's stable. Who is that?"
"You're late Emily. You know how a glacial pace thrills me." Andy put on her coldest Miranda impression.
Emily audibly gulped and checked her watch to find she was indeed late by a whole 90 seconds.
Nigel pretended to ignore Andy and said playfully; "Good morning Emily. Good weekend?"
Andy, still turned away from Emily, smirked.
"Nigel? I said, who is that in Miranda's chair?"
"Oh that, well that…" Nigel tried to play for time.
"That," Andy kept imitating Miranda's voice, "would be me, the new editor." Andy swivelled her chair to face Emily.
Emily looked upon a face she hadn't seen in person in nearly a decade.
"You?!" she half muttered, half shrieked.
"Yes. Me." Andy replied, reverting to her normal accent.
"I don't believe…" Emily trailed off.
"Well that much is evident by the look on your face," she said shortly crossing the room to the door.
"I—"
"Charlotte, could you bring in breakfast for three please? Emily, close your mouth, unless you wish to continue impersonating a trout." she called out into the ante-office as Emily's mouth snapped shut.
"Yes, Ms Sachs."
"Right, we have a very long day." Andy stood, motioning the other two into the guest chairs in front of her desk. "And you know what they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I took the liberty of having it brought up," she smiled as Charlotte brought in a tray of pastries, bagels and toast as well as a pitcher of orange juice. "I hope you came hungry. In fact, Emily, I know you didn't eat breakfast. "
"I—" Emily protested.
"The days of eating cubes of cheese are over," Andy said sharply. "Thank you Charlotte. Tell me when Eleanor gets in please. That's all," she dismissed her assistant.
"Now then shall we begin?"
A/N: Do tell me what you think! I have absolutely no clue when it comes to fashion - much like Andy - so any advice on the subject would be helpful. Hopefully I can make something sound believable from my limited experience. This will be probably the last update this week. I'm on holiday and the time has come to do some real work. I'm amazed by the response to this story. I have captive audience! Don't go anywhere. The next chapter is coming soon…