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Sheep Shit and Stuff

            Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of the internationally renowned fashion magazine, Runway, high priestess in the world of international couture, and style trendsetter for the elite and “want to be” population, found herself stepping gingerly through the dust and dirt of a Sunday farmers’ market. Miranda, the woman who normally used her employees or exclusive delivery services to procure her meals was browsing fresh picked vegetables and locally produced eggs and dairy products. The only thing that would have made this experience perfect would be the presence of cow manure on the grounds.

            The trip to the market was completely due to her daughters. Miranda had arrived in Granville, New York to retrieve her girls from a week’s visit with their grandfather. Her intention was to leave early on Sunday morning for the 4 hour drive back to the city. Over dinner on Saturday evening, her plans were changed.

            “Mom, would it be ok if we go to the farmers’ market before we leave?”

            “Oh, I don’t know, Caroline. I would prefer to get an early start. It is a long drive.”

            “Yeah, but it’s almost summertime. It doesn’t get dark until late. The market opens at 9:30. It wouldn’t take long.”

            “I gather your heart is rather set on this?”

            “It is, Mom, please.”

            “I suppose we can make an exception.” Miranda sighed. “There isn’t anything pressing on my schedule.”

            “Yay.”

            The girls were so excited at the market prospect they didn’t even think to protest washing dishes after dinner.

            After the girls had gone off to bed, Miranda agreed to join her father in a nightcap. Her father was the one who taught her about good whiskey.  Over a glass of 15 year old single malt, Miranda wondered aloud, “Do you know this Andy the girls spoke about?”

            “Oh, Andy’s just a local farmer the girls met last week at the market. Real good sort. Any excitement on the girl’s end is most likely due to the bottle fed lambs.”

            “Ah. I hope they don’t expect to bring a lamb home as a pet.”

            “Ha. Do you remember the pet lamb you had when you were five?”

            “I do recall.”

            “The two of you trotting around the farm. That little thing followed you everywhere.”

            “Hmmm. I do not recall what happened to her.”

            “She sold at a show. Got top dollar for her, too.”

            “I would expect nothing less.”

            “I want you to know, Miranda, I really appreciate you letting the girls stay with me. Especially now your mother’s gone.”

            “They adore you.”

            “I remember a time when you adored me.”

            “It’s not as if I hate you.”

            “No, but all girls outgrow their daddies. It just does an old heart good to be the focus of that pure, unconditional love.”

            “It does make having them worth it.” Miranda deadpanned. “Well, on that note…” Miranda stood, placed a kiss on her father’s forehead, and headed towards the staircase. “I’m off to bed. Have a good night, dad.”

            “You too, my daughter. See you in the morning.”

            “Bright and early.” She called back, halfway up the stairs.

            Miranda was trailing her twin daughters as they bounced from one market stall to the next, barraging the sellers with questions.

            “Mom, come on. We’re going to the next line” Caroline called.

            “Yes dear. Go on ahead. I’ll be there shortly.”

            “OK.”

            The girls ducked out of view as they bolted around the corner of a blue and white striped tent. Miranda found them leaning over the top rail of a temporary fence, chatting animatedly with someone in the pen.

            “Mom, look.” Cassidy grinned over her shoulder. “These are the lambs.”

            “Wonderful.” Miranda muttered. “That’s all I need; the smell of farm animals.” She stepped up to the pen between her daughters and paused in wonder.  There in the pen, squatting low with a pair of lambs, was a woman. A young, beautiful woman.

            Long glossy chestnut hair with natural sun-kissed cinnamon highlights framed a face direct from a classic painting; full red lips teasing a generous smile, sparkling dark chocolate eyes, and the slight crease of an almost dimple on her left cheek. The image burned into Miranda’s eyes, permanently imprinting on her retinas and hippocampus.

            “Mom, look at the babies. Aren’t they adorable?” Caroline sang

            “Hmm, yes. Adorable.” Miranda responded autonomously.

            “Mom, this is Andy.” Cassidy spouted with a note of importance in her voice.

            “You are ‘Andy’?” Miranda quipped, recovering quickly from her initial surprise.

            “I am.” A bright, cheerful voice responded. “You must be Miranda.”

            “I apologize, I was expecting you to be a man.” Miranda voiced her confusion.

            “Understandable.” Andy conceded. “Everyone calls me Andy. My given name is Andrea. Andrea Racheal Sachs.” A slender hand was extended towards Miranda. “It’s a pleasure to meet the one who produced these two.”

            “I’m sure the pleasure is mine.” Miranda hesitated to accept the offered handshake. “Forgive me, but…” She eyed the dirt smudged across the knuckles.

            “Oh, sorry.” Andy smiled self-consciously and wiped her hands across the seat of her pants.

            “What are you selling here? Certainly not those.” Miranda asked incredulously, eyeing the lambs.

            “What? Oh no. Not these two. They just came along for the ride. They’re bottle babies. I figured they would help attract customers.” Andy explained, her words spilling out quickly from a sudden onset of nerves. “I, uh, actually sell honey and wool products.” She grinned and pointed to her display case in confirmation.

            Miranda was once again startled by the pure, natural beauty before her. “Are you from Granville originally, Andréa?”

            Without any thought or intent, Miranda pronounced Andy’s name with a distinctive French accent.

            The foreign sound of her name rolling easily from Miranda’s lips caused Andy to trip over her own tongue.

            “Nnnn…no. Uh… born and raised in Ohio.”

            “And you chose to come here to be a farmer?”

            “You know, farming is a noble profession.”  Andy teased, recovering from the unexpected thrill that tingled down her spine.

            “Hmm. Do you not grow vegetables?”

            “Only for our own consumption.”

            “What about horses? Shouldn’t a farm have horses?”

            “I’m going to believe that you are teasing and not trying to be insulting with this line of questioning. But yes, I have a few horses, actually.”

            “Do you ride?”

            “Yes, although my horses aren’t technically ‘riding horses’.  I have a few draft horses we work. My friend Lily is the true equestrian. She runs a dressage stable full of warmbloods.”            “Can we go see them?” Caroline chimed in.

            “Oh, Caroline. I don’t think so.” Miranda tried to let the girl down gently.

            “Why not?” Caroline pushed.

            “Caroline…” Miranda’s voice dropped low.

            A red flag if ever Andy heard one.

            “Ummm, If I may?” Andy interjected. “Caroline, sweetie, may I speak with your mom…privately?”

            “Oh. Ok.”

            Caroline climbed back into the lamb pen with Cassidy who whispered fiercely “Caro, you know she doesn’t like to be put on the spot like that.”

            Andy easily vaulted over the fence and led Miranda a few steps away from the twins while she decided what the best option might be to handle an annoyed Miranda. “Just for the record, I wouldn’t mind.”

            “Excuse me?” Miranda was about to blow.

            “Really. I understand if you don’t want to take the girls out to the farm. But, you may take this as an open invitation, should you decide to, anytime. Honestly.”

            “You do not even know us.”

            “True. More importantly, you don’t know me. However, you can find us on the internet. An official website and all. You can let all your people know where you are going, so if you don’t return, they’ll know where to send the police.”

            “Oh, for the…” Miranda’s eyes suddenly closed down to slits. “What are you after?”

            “Me?” Andy was nothing if not innocent. “Nothing. I’ve just been completely enchanted by your girls. I’d love to have them out and show ‘em around. Maybe even get a little free labor out of them.”

            “Did they put you up to this?”

            “Nope. I’m flying solo here. But if you want a date to shoot for, the weekend of the 24^th would work well.”

            “What happens that weekend?”

            “We have our own little fiber festival. Open the yarn barn, friends bring their wares, food, shearing and hoof trimming demonstrations, herding demonstrations with the dogs, and hayrides. Who doesn’t like a hayride?”

            Miranda stared blankly at Andy.

            “Ok. Well, that’s all I have. As I said,” Andy backed away from Miranda towards her tent, “open invitation.”

            Miranda turned to find her daughters jumping around the pen, pretending to be lambs. “Girls, it’s time to go.” Her voice left no room for bargaining.

            The twins climbed out of the pen. Cassidy paused, looking beseechingly up at her mother. “Can we buy some of Andy’s honey?”

            “Yes, fine.” Miranda blew out, exasperated.

            Miranda endured three weeks of daily pestering from the twins about a trip to the farm. They asked, they begged, they promised deals of extra house chores and good behavior. They even offered to be nice to Miranda’s office assistants.

            During those three weeks, Miranda was also bothered by memories of chestnut hair and chocolate eyes. A young woman, a mere slip of a girl actually, had somehow insinuated herself into Miranda’s psyche. This was a problem.

            Miranda initially decided she would forget the entire farm market day and simply suppress silly thoughts of a farm girl on the cover of Runway. Problem was, the more she tried to suppress; the more the images of that troublesome farmer crept into her mind.  Many an afternoon, while she was heading a run through of design options, Miranda would be distracted, dressing Andy in her mind’s eye in haute couture.

            Finally, on a Friday night when the girls had gone to their father’s for the weekend, Miranda arrived home to find a small bouquet of flowers with a notecard. “Mom, hope you had a spectacular week.  Just a thought…if you’ve been working too hard, a weekend in the country might be a way to relax. Love Caro and Cass.”

            Miranda surrendered to the unrelenting torment from her children. Easily locating the business card Andy had given the girls at the market, Miranda carried it and a glass of whiskey to her study.

            “Hello, this is Andy Sachs.”

            “I require an itinerary of events.”

            “I’m sorry?”

            “A schedule. If I am to bring the girls to this farm of yours, I will need to know when I must have them there.”

            “Oh. Right. Hello Miranda. How are the girls?”

            “They are with their father this weekend. I decided I will surprise them with this highly treasured excursion. So, information?”

            “Give me your email address and I’ll send it.”

            “Oh, yes, of course.”

            “I didn’t really make this specifically part of the invitation but, I was wondering if you’d be willing to stay here.”

            “Stay at the farm? In your home?”

            “Yeah. There’s plenty of space.”

            “I don’t think…”

            “No, please, think about it. I’m sure the girls will love it. And you would have the freedom to participate in any, all, or none of the festivities as you see fit.”

            “It’s easy enough for us to stay with my father.”

            “Easy, but not as convenient, or as fun for the girls.”

            “What are you after? Why are you so insistent?”

            “I don’t know, really.  I’m not after anything. It just makes sense to me. Y’all can stay here. The girls can experience farm life. You won’t have to drive to and from your dad’s. And I think I can arrange a visit to Lily’s stable for the girls.”

            Miranda considered the argument. It was true the girls would be ecstatic to stay at the farm. And they would stop in to visit their grandfather, of course. After a moment’s hesitation, Miranda could not believe the words that slipped past her lips.

            “I will be letting everyone know where I am going.”

            “Of course you will. I can’t swear I’m not crazy, but I can swear I am not dangerous.”

            “I’m not so sure of that.” Miranda mumbled.

            “I’m sorry, what was that?”

            “Nothing. Saturday the 24^th then?”

            “Excellent. If you show up after 8:30 you’ll have to wait until lunchtime for me to help you with your luggage. I’ll be busy.”

            “Of course.”

            “Great. I can’t wait.”

            “Yes…well… until then.”

            Miranda disconnected the call and took a long pull from her glass. Resting her head against the back of the sofa, she exhaled slowly.

            “Dear Lord, what have I done?”

            She grabbed her phone and hit a selected speed dial.

            “Hello?”

            “Dad, how are you.”

            “Miranda, how unlike you to call.”

            “Mmmm. Lovely to hear your voice, too.” Miranda tossed back, welcoming the teasing banter with her father.

            “To what do I owe this surprise?”

            “Is it too far out of the realm of possibility that I would call to simply say hello?”

            “About as far as one can get. How are you, love?”

            “I am well. And you?”

            “Besides the fact I’m still following that horrible heart friendly diet prescribed by that quack of a doctor, I am quite well.”

            “Dad, what do you know about Andréa?”

            “Andréa? You mean Andy?”

            “Yes.” Miranda answered with exasperation.

            “Well, she’s been here for a few years now.  Took over her grandparents’ farm. A real good egg. She unofficially volunteers her time in dozens of ways to the community. Always donates show lambs for the 4-H kids that don’t have the wherewithal to keep their own. You know, just a solid, upstanding sort. Why?”

            “She has offered her home for a weekend stay.”

            “Huh.”

            “Mmm.”

            “And you’re considering the offer?”

            “There are benefits. The girls have not stopped going on about her and her farm. And you would not have to deal with us tromping through your house for a weekend. But…”

            “Ahhh, no ‘buts’ needed, my girl. Andy is rock solid. If you are considering it, then I recommend you just go all in. There is no ill will in that girl and you might just enjoy yourself. ”

            “On a farm?” Miranda asked in disbelief.

            “Yes, on a farm.”

            “The girls are quite enamored with the idea.”

            “It’s only for one weekend. I think you can afford that.”

            “It would be a relatively quiet time for me at work.”

            “So, no problem. Just say yes and give yourself a break.”

            “Hmmm, Yes. Thank you, dad. You have been as helpful as ever.”

            “Love you too, daughter. Don’t be a stranger.”

            “Goodnight, dad.”

            On Friday, the 23^rd, Miranda confounded the entire staff of Runway magazine; she left early. Not just ten minutes early, but she was out the door, bag in hand four hours early. It was, until now, unheard of.

            Walking through her front door, Miranda was greeted by the sound of her children competitively squabbling over some video game. She found Cara, the girls’ au-pair and housekeeper, in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch.

            “Cara, were you able to pack bags without them noticing?”

            “Yes, Miranda. They are no wiser to this surprise than when you left this morning.”

            “Excellent. Thank you, for doing this.”

            “Of course. Shall I stay to help load the car?”

            “Oh, no. You go ahead. Enjoy the weekend.”

            “Thank you, you too.” Cara put the last of the dishes away and headed out to start an early weekend.

            Miranda went in search of her daughters.  Finding them in the playroom, battling through a video car race game, she coughed to get their attention.

            Seeing their mother home early, the girls threw their game controllers down and swarmed Miranda.

            “Mom! You’re home!” Caroline squealed.

            “Why?” Cassidy, always the realist followed up.

            “Well, since you asked…” Miranda began. “I have decided that maybe the two of you have earned a special treat.”

            “Really? Are we going for ice cream?” Caroline asked.

            “Are we going to a show?” Cassidy chimed in.

            “You need to think more broadly than that, my loves.”

            “What are we doing?” Caroline cried, already losing patience with her mother’s game.

            “We are going away for the weekend.” Miranda answered evenly.

            “Where?” Cassidy pushed, excited by all the possibilities.

            “Well, that is the real surprise. But, if you help get the bags in the car, we can start out sooner than later.”

            The girls were gone. They did not need to be told twice. Miranda heard feet pounding down the stairs and then racing around the first floor. Then she heard, “I don’t know, maybe Cara did.” And then the front door slammed.

            Rolling her eyes in amusement, Miranda located her luggage in her bedroom and followed her girls out.

            The trip north was inundated with guesses of the surprise. Once they merged onto route 87 the girls were convinced the trip was to see their grandfather. When the car diverted from the well-known route to granddad’s the girls started up again.

            “Wait, mom. You took a wrong turn. We don’t go this way to granddad’s.” Cassidy insisted.

            “You are correct, darling. We do not go this way.”

            “Then where are we going?”

            “I need to make a stop.” Miranda offered, refusing to divulge their true destination.

            Miranda slowed the car on some back road outside of town. Turning onto a gravel drive, the girls screamed in the back seat when they saw the posted sign: Clover and Thistle Farm.

            “Oh my GOD!” “It’s Andy’s!” We’re at the farm!” “Mom! This is Andy’s farm!”

            “Yes dear. I am aware.” Miranda chuckled at the excitement boiling over from the back seat.

            Miranda followed the long drive as it led her towards a newly constructed farmhouse with a full wrap around porch and a row of barns and sheds. She stopped the car and noticed a man driving a team of horses past the house. Exiting the vehicle, she stood to stretch and her eyes alit on a lithe form stepping off the porch, moving in her direction.

            “Yo, Andy!” a masculine voice called out. “Can I have a side of fries with that shake?”

            A high flying bird was all he received in response as Andy strode across the gravel, perhaps with a little more sway to her hips than usual.

            When the younger woman was close enough, Miranda lightly reprimanded. “Really Andréa, my daughters.”

            “Oh, right. Sorry.” Andy sheepishly apologized. But she recovered quickly. “You’re here!”

            “Obviously.”

            “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

            “Andy!” the girls screamed in unison as they clambered out of the car.

            “Hey. How are you?”

            Miranda stood back, amused and a little confused as the girls tackled Andy in a group hug. Andy’s obvious pleasure at welcoming the twins induced a warm authentic smile from Miranda.

            “You’re here early. This is great.” Andy beamed. “We’ll get you started with horse care. Doug just finished mowing and we’ll let you two help cool the horses down.”

            “Yay!” “Awesome!” cheered Caroline and Cassidy.

            “Excuse me,” Miranda began, feigning irritation. “I do not remember agreeing to conscript my children into hard labor.”

            “Mom!” “Come on, please?!” The girls were aghast their mother would deny them this incredible experience.

            “What if I promise to distract you with a glass of wine?”

            “Well…” Miranda considered. “White or red?”

            “Pinot grigio is chilling. It is almost summer, after all.”

            “Very well. You may have them.”

            After unloading the car, Miranda waited patiently while Andy ushered the twins out to the horse barn to introduce them to the joys of horse care. The younger woman returned promptly and, while preparing to fulfill her promise of libations, reported that Doug had the girls laughing hysterically within two minutes of meeting.

            “Here you go.” Andy offered, a chilled glass of white wine in her extended hand.

            Miranda accepted gratefully, smiling agreeably with her first sip.

            “Care to join me on the porch?” Andy suggested.

            “Lead the way.” Miranda acceded.

            Once situated on an amazingly comfortable porch chair, Miranda settled in to savor the wine and the company and the ever changing view as the late day sun cast lengthening shadows across the homestead.

            It wasn’t until Andy was topping off a second glass that conversation crept into the peaceful setting.

            “Andréa, how long have you been here farming?”

            Once again, the reply was delayed, allowing Andy’s brain to reboot after its minor short circuit caused by Miranda’s pronunciation of, what Andy always thought, was a rather bland name. The soft, low timbre of Miranda’s voice along with the exotic pronunciation of the name had momentarily mesmerized Andy.

            “Seven years, full time.”

            “Full time?”

            “Yeah. We worked on it part time while at university. But since graduating, we came on full time.”

            “Do you mean to tell me, you finished a degree and came straight here?”

            “Yes. That is exactly what I mean.”

            “What is your degree?”

            “Journalism.”

            “Journalism?!” Miranda could not cover her astonishment.

            “Journalism.” Andy confirmed, amused at Miranda’s response.

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Before you put voice to some highbrow, pompous prejudice, try to remember we are talking about my life right now.”

            Miranda’s lips pursed, her eyes squinted to near slits, and her nostrils flared in her attempt to control her irritation. After a couple of swallows of wine, she continued with great restraint, “Is there a particular reason you did not pursue a journalism career?”

            “The farm.”

            “The farm.” Miranda echoed.

            “Well, the farm, and Doug, and Lily, and my grandparents’ legacy.”

            “Please explain.” Miranda probed.

            “I suppose my grandparents should come first in the list. My grandfather passed away when I was a junior in high school. My grandmother was overwhelmed with the farm on her own, but she didn’t want to abandon her husband’s dreams. So she signed the farm to her grandchildren and moved to a retirement village in Cincinnati, close to my folks.  My brother Dan and I are her only grandchildren. Dan had absolutely no interest in the farm life. Doug and Lily thought it was the greatest idea in the world when I told them about it. I brought them here during our first summer break from college. They fell in love with the farm and immediately planned how it would all work. We’ve been working it ever since.”

            “I do not want to be crass, but how can you afford…”

            Andy chuckled at Miranda’s discomfort. “Grandpa had a healthy nest egg built up. Gram’s been bankrolling most of the repairs. And then we ‘Muskateers’ do earn some cold hard cash working in our designated fields. We aren’t rich by any stretch, but happy is as happy does.”

            Miranda was far from appeased. She knew Andy was an intelligent girl. And having escaped the small town curse herself, she couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly choose the rural life when they had an obvious out.

            “But what about your future? Don’t you want a family?  Children?”

            “I’m not sure about this turn in your strategy, but families are allowed out here in the country. In fact, folks around here kind of expect it.”

            “That is not what I mean.” Miranda was near pouting. “I simply mean, I cannot imagine you finding an equal match out here.”

            “That’s very urbane of you.”

            “I am not a snob.”

            “Oh, but you are very convincing in the role.” Andy laughed good naturedly, curbing the sting of her words. “Not all country bumpkins are boorish nitwits. You would be a case in point. Your own dad outed you to me. I know of your childhood, Miranda Priestly. And I know you still enjoy returning on occasion to visit.”     “Visit, yes. Live, absolutely not.”

            “Why? Is it the lure of the big city? Or is it your inability to be quiet with yourself for more than two days?”

            “Impertinence does not suit you.” Miranda snarked.

            “Elitism doesn’t fit you.” Andy shot back.

            “Hmph.”

            “Solid comeback. Need another glass?” Andy eyed Miranda’s glass.

            “Not without food.”

            “Well, then. Let’s get some food.”

            Miranda wordlessly followed Andy into the house.

            The sun had dropped enough to leave a colorless gray shadow over the farm. The girls crashed into the house laughing and playfully arguing with a man Miranda had to presume was Doug.

            Doug stopped abruptly when he saw Miranda.

            “Oh my God. Andy, when you said you were having friends over this weekend, I had no idea. Since when have you been friends with ‘Miranda Priestly’?”

            Miranda’s expression turned to amusement with Doug’s words. She knew a fanboy when she met one. Presenting an elegant hand in greeting, Miranda murmured, “I am afraid you have the advantage.”

            “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Doug gushed. Taking the proffered hand he added, “I’m Doug. Doug Warner. It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

            “And you, Douglas.” Miranda gently extracted her hand. “May I assume the girls were helpful to you in the barn?”

            “What? Oh! Oh yeah. They were great. Jumped right in to help. Followed direction to a ‘T’. Wonderful helpers, these two.”

            “We bathed both of the horses.” Caroline beamed.

            “Hansel and Gretel.” Cassidy provided.

            “Yes, I can see you put in a fair share of work. Might I suggest you clean yourselves up before dinner?” Miranda directed.

            The girls raced off to prepare for dinner. Andy glanced over her shoulder and sniffed audibly. “You might want to think about that suggestion too, Dougie.”

            “I will. But understand it isn’t for you, Ms. Sachs.” Doug snipped before turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen.

            “And you thought you were the only one here with children.”  Andy quipped.

            “I hope he is not your best representation of eligible country bachelors.” Miranda smirked.

            Andy raised her near empty glass in a toast. “I cede the argument. You win.”

            “I always do.”

            Miranda awoke to the sound of her daughters’ laughter. She remained in bed a few moments replaying the prior evening in her mind.  After the challenging conversation with Andy on the porch, the remainder of their day ended pleasantly.

            Miranda had basically set herself into the role of observer. She watched as her daughters fell in love with both Andy and Doug. She could not remember when the twins had last laughed so much. And their hosts were kind and inclusive. They never once ignored the girls or attempted to turn the conversation into adult only themes. For her girls, Miranda was encouraged and happy. For herself, she had doubts.

            Staring at her reflection in the mirror after her shower, Miranda considered the words both spoken and unspoken with Andy. She was off balance when it came to Andréa. The girl had insider information on Miranda’s early life, but Miranda had no way of knowing just what the information entailed.

            Miranda did not leave Granville just to escape a small town. She did have huge dreams that didn’t fit in the small town, but she also had a volatile relationship with her mother. Her father always said they were too much alike. Miranda just felt her mother was too controlling. And, truth be told, she did not find that anyone in the rural town was equal to her own sharp mind.  Although, the choices she made in personal companions never held up to her demanding expectations.

            A tension headache was present before getting out of bed, and by the time Miranda completed her morning ablutions, she was ready to return to sleep. Her arrival in the kitchen was met by a large note pinned to the coffee machine. “Just turn it on. Ready to brew.”

            “Thank God.” Miranda muttered as she followed directions. Raiding the refrigerator, she found cream for her coffee and some fresh fruit in a sealed container with her name on it.

            Fruit and coffee in hand, Miranda made her way out onto the porch to enjoy the early morning cool air. Fruit finished and coffee halfway gone, her attention was captured by one of her daughters.

            “Mom! You’re up!” Caroline yelled from the door of a small barn. “Come check it out!”

            Miranda stood and winced at a shot of pain behind her right eye. She wandered into the barn and found her girls stacking a pile of brightly colored yarn skeins on a table.

            “Hey mom,” Cassidy called. “Check it out. Andy dyed all this yarn with Kool-Aid. How awesome is that?”

            “Awesome, Bobbsey.” Miranda gave her daughter a quick one armed hug. “Are the two of you listening to direction?”

            “Yeah. We’re doing what they tell us. This morning we scrubbed out the water tanks for the ewes. And we got to feed the horses. Doug says he’ll start teaching us to drive this afternoon.”

            “I’m sorry, did you say drive?”

            “Yeah. Drive. The horses, not a car. Sheesh, mom. You need to learn your farming terminology.”

            “Ah, of course. I do apologize, Cassidy.” Miranda smiled softly at her daughter.

            “Hey, Miranda. Good morning.” Andy’s cheery voice sounded from directly behind Miranda.

            “Mmm, yes, Good morning, Andréa.” Miranda turned to greet her hostess.

            “Ooh, Miranda, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look so good.”

            “I can’t say as I feel so good, either.”

            “Really? What’s wrong?” Andy was immediately filled with concern and worry.

            “I fear I have a migraine threatening to ruin my day.”

            “Oh. Yikes. Is there anything I can do?”

            “I think I will go lie down for a bit.”

            “Will a soaker bath help? I know you have the shower upstairs, but I do have a soaking tub in my bathroom.”

            “That would be acceptable.” Miranda sighed.

            “Come on. I’ll show you where everything is.”

            Miranda docilely followed Andy.

            “All right, well, here you go then. Do you need anything else?”

            It took less than five minutes to return to the house and get a full tour of Andy’s en suite bath. With the water already running at a proper temperature, Miranda was dying to submerge herself beneath the aromatic bubbles filling the tub.

            “No, no. This is more than adequate.” Miranda replied, eager to be alone in quiet solitude.        

            “Right then. I’ll leave you to it. And don’t worry about the girls. We’ve got them.”

            “Thank you, Andréa.”

            Miranda’s quiet, earnest voice stopped Andy mid stride. Glancing back, she caught Miranda’s eyes and replied sincerely, “You’re welcome, Miranda.”

            The door latched softly and Miranda was alone with an advancing pain in her head and a beginning ache in her heart.

            It was afternoon by the time Miranda reemerged from the house. A long soak and a nap in a darkened room did wonders for her equilibrium. The pain of the encroaching migraine was pushed back to a dull ache behind her right ear. The general stress that her body had borne for months had dissipated and left only slight tightness across her shoulders as evidence to the world she carried daily.

            Miranda procured another cup of coffee and decided to camp out on the porch. At the back of the house, she was afforded a panoramic view of the festivities. She spied her daughters perched on a pasture fence watching the antics of a small group of sheep attempting to outmaneuver a border collie. Once again in the role of observer, Miranda spent her afternoon entertained by her occasionally devilish children and their interactions with Andy and Doug.

            The highlight of Miranda’s afternoon diversion was watching as Doug, true to his word, engaged in driving lessons for the girls. The expressions of joy, the whoops of laughter, and squeals of delight, made the entire trip worthwhile for Miranda.

            Miranda was distracted from the entertaining scene by a now familiar figure moving across the lawn towards her.  She remained motionless as her senses all clicked into exacting focus as Andy ambled across the yard.

            Miranda felt the solidity of the wooden chair cradling her, the hem of her skirt ruffling across her calves and her hair tickling against her face from a gentle breeze drifting by. She could smell the perfume of late spring wildflowers, lilacs, and the ever present odor of farm. She tasted the slightly nutty, smoky remains of her coffee on her tongue. She heard the distant laughter of her daughters, the buzz of the bees working over the lilac bush, and the crunch of footsteps on the gravel walkway leading to the porch steps.

            Despite the array of sensual input, it was Miranda’s vision that demanded her immediate consideration. She appreciated long legs encased in well fit jeans that drew her eyes up to scan a lean torso wrapped in a cool cotton white button down shirt. Miranda unconsciously swallowed when she took in the hint of skin exposed by the top three buttons left undone.

            Andy’s foot hit the top step by the time Miranda’s eyes found the younger woman’s face. Full red lips and espresso eyes reflecting the gold of the sun were framed by chestnut tendrils that had escaped the restraint of a loosely tied ponytail. The eyes suddenly clouded over with unease.

            “Miranda? Are you alright?” Andy’s voice was thick with worry.

            Miranda blinked slowly three times before responding, “Yes, I am quite well.”

            Unconvinced, Andy pushed, “Are you sure? You look…off.”

            “No, no.” Miranda sat up straighter, the movement helping to clear her brain as Andy crouched in front of her. “I am certain. I’m fine.”

            “Ok,” Andy conceded. “As long as you’re sure.”

            “I am.”

            “Headache gone?” Andy’s eyes were searching Miranda’s for confirmation.

            “Seemingly.”

            “Great.” Content with the answer, Andy stood and stepped back, breaking a growing tension.

            The smile that spread across Andy’s face morphed her into the most angelic being Miranda had ever envisioned. The natural beauty both intrigued and vexed Miranda. Her decades of creating and changing the definition of beauty through her work failed to supply an adequate frame of reference for the intensity of her admiration.

            Miranda found herself once again preoccupied with visions of Andréa in the pages of Runway, which caused her to miss another question.

            “I’m sorry? What was that?”

            “I asked if you were up to a good old backyard bar-b-que this evening?”

            “Oh, um… yes. That would be acceptable.”

            “Excellent. Now don’t worry about a thing. You just sit back and relax. The girls and I will get everything done. I don’t want you to have a relapse.”

            Miranda watched Andy disappear through the back door and absently stared after her until the sound of her girls racing across the lawn demanded her attention.

            “Mom! Mom! Did you see us? We actually drove the horses! Did you see?!”

            “Yes, Cassidy. I saw. You were marvelous.” Miranda grinned.

            “Mom. Do you want to try? Doug said he’d take you out if you want.”

            “Oh, no thank you, darling.” Miranda softened. “I don’t think I’m quite up to that right now, Caroline. Would you let Douglas know to not wait for me?”

            “Sure.” Caroline agreed. Placing a quick kiss on Miranda’s cheek, she ran off to find Doug.

            “Mom, you should try it sometime. It is so much fun.” Cassidy wormed her way onto her mother’s lap.

            “I imagine it is, Cassidy. Did you find it at all difficult?”

            “Only remembering the voice directions. To turn right you have to call ‘gee’. Left is ‘haw’. And with the herding dogs, it’s ‘go by’ and ‘away to me’. Who knew there was so much to training animals?”

            “Animal trainers, I expect.”  Miranda deadpanned.

            “Mooomm.” Cassidy laughingly protested. “Did Andy tell you we’re going to cook out tonight?”

            “She did, indeed.”

            “She has a steak for you.”

            “Does she?”

            “Yeah. I told her you like a good steak.”

            “Did you, now?” Miranda chuckled and tugged at one of Cassidy’s braids.

            “Do you mind?”

            “No, Bobbsey. Not at all.”

            Cassidy leaned back into her mother, triggering motherly arms to reflexively wrap around her. “I really like Andy and Doug,” she whispered dreamily. “They’re the best.”

            “They are very special.” Miranda allowed.

            The two sat quietly with their individual thoughts until Caroline came racing back.

            “Cass, come on! Doug says we have to take the harnesses off and care for Hansel and Gretel.”

            “Oh, ok.” Cassidy squirmed off her mother’s lap. “We’ll be back” she assured.

            “Be careful,” Miranda called after them.

            “Miranda girl, are you actually sleeping?”

            Miranda jolted awake to the sound of her father’s booming voice.

            “Since when do you nap the afternoon away?”

            “What are you doing here?” Miranda puzzled.

            “I was invited to dinner. So what’s with the napping? Are you ill?”

            “No. I am perfectly fine. I simply nodded off in the sunshine. Is that a crime?”

            “Could be. Don’t know. Have to do some research.”

            “Well don’t bother wasting your time. I’m sure you have better things to do than have your daughter incarcerated for some trumped up charge.” Miranda stood and stretched, forcing the lethargy from her body.

            Miranda’s father held a glass out for Miranda’s consideration. “Mojito?”

            With an eyebrow arched in disbelief, Miranda questioned, “Seriously?”

            Taking a sip of his own he critiqued, “Pretty good, actually. Not too sweet. Like the barkeep knew your preferences or something.”

            Accepting the proffered glass, Miranda took a sip and both eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Did you make this?” she accused.

            “Innocent of all charges.”

            “Who?”

            “Drinks ok?” Andy’s voice cheerfully enquired from the back door.

            “Quite,” Miranda responded. “It’s as if a professional mixologist prepared them.”

            “Sweet. Glad you like ‘em. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. In case you want to freshen up.”

            “Thank you.”

            Miranda, once again, spent the evening mute. She was perfectly content allowing her children and her father to spill all her secrets to Andy and Doug. When they weren’t betraying their mother, the twins entertained with stories of their own escapades. Miranda was particularly amused by the girls revealing all the astounding pranks they successfully executed on untold numbers of innocent victims. She certainly gathered plenty of blackmail material for future use.

            As the evening wound down, Miranda escorted her father to his car.

            “So, my daughter, what do you think?”

            “About?”

            “The new wave of local farmers?”

            “I have no idea what you are trying to insinuate.”

            “I’m not ‘insinuating’ anything. I’m asking straight out; what do you think of our young farmers here? And don’t deny an opinion. I saw you tonight. Every time you glanced at that young woman, you got that look in your eyes.”

            “What look?”

            “That look that says you have plans.”

            “Oh, please…”

            “Don’t deny it.  I know you. You are up to something in that head of yours.”

            “There is nothing to deny. You are seeing things.”

            A brief, silent battle of wills raged between father and daughter.

            “Fine.”

            Miranda smirked at her father throwing in the towel.

            “Don’t admit it. But I know you, Miranda. And I know you are up to something. Even if you aren’t aware of it, you are up to something.”

            Miranda laughed genially. “Drive carefully”, she whispered against her father’s cheek.

            Sunday morning rolled in overcast and threatening rain. The impending weather did not put a damper on the girls’ enthusiasm. With a standing invitation to Lily’s stable on the schedule of events, breakfast could not end soon enough.

            With morning chores completed, dishes done, and the rain on hold, Andy led the crew towards the back door.

            “Are we not going to the car?” Miranda wondered; confused they weren’t heading out the front and towards the car.

            “Nope,” Andy grinned. “We’re walking.”

            Miranda followed wordlessly.

            A stroll through a side pasture with only a few interruptions by curious lambs wanting to say hello, brought the hiking band to a gate adjoining what turned out to be Lily’s grazing pasture. The twins were ecstatic when a couple of horses met them midway.

            “Oh my god! They’re beautiful.” Cassidy whispered in awe.

            “Yeah, they are.” Andy readily agreed.

            Miranda froze when a large black mare stepped in close and reached out to nose Caroline’s hair.

            “This is ‘Gaia’.” Andy introduced over Caroline’s giggles.

            “What is she?” Cassidy wondered.

            “She’s a Friesian. And a champion dressage contender.”

            “Who’s that?” Caroline pointed over Gaia’s rump towards a tan colored horse with a dark brown stripe through its main.

            “That’s ‘Tumble’. His real name is ‘Vale’s Enok’, which supposedly means Vale’s faithful. But, we call him Tumble because he has a habit of dropping and rolling when he has a rider on his back.”

            “That does not sound safe,” Miranda stated.

            “He sort of drops in slow motion, giving plenty of time for you to slide off of him. We just don’t use saddles with him.” Andy chuckled. “If you go into the river with him, he will definitely dump you off. He prefers to be a carriage horse. Come on, Lily’s waiting.”

            “What kind of horse is Tumble?” Cassidy asked as they continued on.

            “He’s a Norwegian Fjord.”

            “He’s really cute.”

            “Yeah, he is.” Andy agreed easily, having many fond memories of long afternoons spent with Tumble to back up her opinion.

            They found Lily in the horse barn. She had two horses cross-tied in the aisle, waiting for the girls’ arrival.

            “Hey, Lils.”

            “Sup Andy?”

            “As I promised: two new victims.” Andy gently pushed the girls forward. “This is Caroline and this one’s Cassidy. They are ready for whatever you have planned.”

            “Hi,” Lily smiled warmly. “It’s good to meet you two. Andy talks about you all the time.”

            The girls both looked back at Andy for confirmation. A bright smile was all the proof they needed that Lily wasn’t telling tales.

            “So, have either of you ridden before?” Lily asked seriously.

            “No. When we were ten Mom said we could think about riding lessons once we were a little older.” Cassidy explained.

            “So, now you’re older?”

            “Now we’re twelve,” Cassidy stated cheerfully.

            “And we’re still waiting,” Caroline grumbled petulantly.

            “Well, the wait is over,” Lily announced. “But first, we need to learn about grooming.”

            “We know about grooming.” Caroline asserted.

            “You do?”

            “Yeah. We’ve been working with Doug and Andy’s horses.” Cassidy explained with less attitude.

            “Well then. Let’s go groom.”

            The girls stepped forward with controlled excitement and selected brushes to begin their task.

            Miranda watched her daughters but her words were directed to Lily. “I am entrusting you with my children on Andréa’s counsel.”

            Instantly sobered, Lily replied, “Of course. I do understand.”

            “Hmmm.”

            “Miranda. This is Lily Goodwin. Lily…Miranda Priestly.” Andy interceded.

            Offering her hand, Lily added, “Like they are my own.”

            Miranda acquiesced, accepting Lily’s handshake. “Very well.”

            Miranda followed Andy to an elevated viewing lounge to observe the girl’s lesson in comfort. The room, constructed over the entry doors of the indoor ring, was decorated in a rustic style with a burnished wooden bar a few bar stools, and a pair of large, soft leather club chairs.

            It was barely noon, but Andy made use of the stocked bar and poured two glasses of a very serviceable whiskey on the rocks with a top of soda.

            At Miranda’s arched eyebrow Andy explained, “The ice and soda make it a little more acceptable for the time of day.”

            Miranda smirked in amusement and accepted a glass.

            “If they get hurt…”

            “No punishment you could dole out for me would suffice.” Andy surmised. “But nothing is going to happen. Lily has them on two very sound, bomb-proof school horses. They’re going to be fine. I’m more worried about you.”

            “Me?” Miranda was truly bewildered.

            “Yes, you. After those two get this taste of horses, you will suffer from here on a never before experienced incessant begging.  Your sanity is on the line, Miranda.”

            Miranda raised her glass in a wordless toast.

            “I think Junebug was better at responding to cues.” Cassidy persisted in her argument.

            “Maybe, but Pippin was smoother to ride.” Caroline countered.

            “Do you think you can table this discussion for the rest of the afternoon?” Miranda interjected in a voice that left no room for dissent.

            “Anyone for strawberry shortcake?” Andy proposed.

            “Yes!”

            “And in stereo.” Andy laughed. “Come on you two, give me a hand.”

            The girls helped clear the remains of dinner from the table and then took over serving the dessert while Andy topped off wine glasses.

            “You are to blame,” Miranda whispered conspiratorially.

            “Whatever are you referring to?” Andy innocently retorted.

            “I will not be left to deal with the fallout on my own.”

            “I told you…”

            “Too late. You were too late with your warning. This is entirely your fault.”

            “I’ll make you a deal.”

            “I’m listening.”

            “Let me have them for the summer.”

            “What?!” Miranda was suddenly not joking anymore.

            “I’m serious, Miranda. Let me have them through the summer. They can spend two months living the farm life and taking lessons with Lily.”

            “I don’t think so.”

            “Then let your dad have them for the summer. He can bring them for lessons.”

            “You want me to just throw my girls away for the summer?”

            “That is not what I’m saying. I was actually hoping if the girls were here, you’d find your way up on weekends.”

            “You say that as if I have a normal job.”

            “Well can’t it be?”

            “Not nearly as often as I would like. This weekend alone will have me working until 11 every night this week to make up for lost time.”

            “Mom? Do you want some shortcake?” Cassidy’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

            “Just some fresh strawberries, Bobbsey.” Miranda glared at Andy again. “You have no idea what my life is like. Just because you chat with my father…”

            Miranda was cut off by the entrance of her daughters carrying the desserts. A bowl of berries was placed gently in front of Miranda.

            “Is this ok?” Cassidy asked tentatively.

            “Yes, darling. This is perfect, just like you.”

            Miranda sat in her office chair with her back to the door and her attention somewhere out the window. She jumped in surprise when Nigel Kipling, her art director and right-hand man, coughed subtly behind her.

            “I cannot understand how it is we must relive the same errors day after day,” Miranda murmured as she swung herself around to her desk, her hand waving over a scattering of photos across the desktop. “Look at these. Completely unacceptable.” She dismissed the lot.

            “I’ll speak to Chrissy. Help clarify your direction.”

            “Hmmm.”

            “Miranda,” Nigel spoke carefully, having no desire to stir a hornet’s nest. “Is there something going on behind the scenes I can assist you with?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, I’ve noticed you seem to be a little preoccupied with something. Is there an issue on the home front?”

            Nigel was the only human in Miranda’s work life that could ever get away with questioning her. But even for him, this was close to professional suicide. Luckily, Miranda’s distraction was a real thing that she knew she needed to deal with.

            “I don’t believe there is anything from my ‘home front’ that would ever be of your concern.”

            Subject closed. The fact that an employee commented on her lack of attention effectively fixed the problem. Miranda straightened in her chair and was once again, completely focused on her job. The subject of her distraction was safely locked away, or, better yet, ready to be exposed to the light.

            “I’m thinking a rustic theme for the winter edition,” Miranda stated plainly, laying out the bait to test the waters.

            “Rustic. Ralph Lauren?”

            “Hmmm. More Somerset, I think.”

            “Somerset? Awfully young to carry winter.”

            “Fresh. Exciting. Earthy. Cutting edge.”

            “I agree. But, still. Don’t you think it might be just a little too daring? I mean, they haven’t even broken into the U.S. market.”

            “Yet.”

            “All right. Models?”

            “I want a new face.”

            “Fresh?”

            Miranda smirked at Nigel. “Cutting edge.”

            “You have someone.”

            “In mind, yes. I will need to make a few calls.”

            “The park?”

            “No. But that will also be a phone call.”

            “Patrick should be free in August.”

            “Helena Wright.”

            “Wow. You’re really going all out with the new and uninitiated.”

            “It will only work with all the pieces.”

            “Ok. You know best.”

            “Always.” Miranda sat back, satisfied. She did have plans. Her father had been right on the money. But the grand plan hinged entirely on one strong willed farmer. This one time, Miranda was not in control of her designs. And this fact made Miranda uncomfortable.

            Miranda padded on bare feet through the quiet house, the girls once again off with their father. After her meeting with Nigel, she began to worry. It was bad enough her thoughts were constantly interrupted with memories and images of Andréa Sachs, but now she had set herself up for an embarrassing failure. Thankfully, she had not revealed the name of her preferred model to Nigel. To put a name to her idea could prove disastrous. Now, she had to pull a monster rabbit out of the hat to save face. After all, what budding model would refuse Miranda Priestly?

            It had literally been years since Miranda felt on pins and needles yet, as the phone trilled, she felt the unease.

            “Hello, Miranda.”

            “Andréa.”

            “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” Andy’s honest happiness bubbled across the airwaves, relieving most of Miranda’s apprehension.

            “I have considered your offer.”

            “Which offer?”

            “The one that had something to do with you spiriting away my children for the summer.”

            “Oh, right. They won’t let up about the horses, huh?” Andy laughed.

            “I still completely blame you.”

            “Not sure that would hold up in court.”

            “Regardless. I wish to discuss the possibility.”

            “What’s to discuss. It is absolutely possible.”

            “Yes, well. There are particulars.”

            “In bed every night by nine. No junk food. And only well schooled horses.”

            Miranda smiled in spite of herself. Andy was very adept at diffusing the ice queen. “I am more concerned about their father.”

            “Why? Does he want to come too?”

            “Please be serious, Andréa. Their father will want to have them for part of the summer. He takes them in July. Usually for three weeks.”

            “That’s not a problem.”

            “Will it cause an issue to have their lessons interrupted?”

            “Oh.” Andy caught on to Miranda’s concern. “No problem at all. Unless you expect them to be riding at Olympic competition level by end of summer. It’s like riding a bike. The body doesn’t forget.”

            “They finish school in two weeks. Will that be enough time for you to prepare?”

            “Everything is ready. I’ll just have to run to the store and stock up on s’mores supplies and band-aids.”

            “You truly believe you are humorous, don’t you?”

            “I usually kill ‘em at open mic night.”

            “Yes. Of course you do. I’ll tell the girls to plan for the 21^st then, shall I?”

            “You shall. Will you bring them up? Or will they be shipped up by train?’

            “I do not ‘ship’ my daughters.”

            “So, I’ll see you on the 21^st too?”

            “Yes.”

            Miranda disconnected the phone, effectively ending the conversation.

            June 21^st brought blue skies, hot sun, and a traffic jam that set the Priestly family back an hour with travel.

            “The train doesn’t have traffic jams,” Cassidy observed.

            “The train also does not offer door to door service,” Caroline argued.

            “Yeah, but even with cab rides to the station we’d already be there.”

            “Cassidy, the farm and the horses are not going anywhere. Please desist with the griping.” Miranda put an end to an imminent tantrum.

            Miranda finally slipped the car into park and sighed as the girls escaped from the confines of the back seat. A deep breath and a long stretch towards the sun helped her lose the strain of the five and a half hour drive. A pleased smile tugged at her lips when her eyes alit on a now familiar feminine form emerging from the farmhouse.

            “Hey, welcome back,” Andy called genially. “Where are the twins?’

            Miranda nodded towards the horse barn. “They insisted on wearing their farm clothes on the drive up so as not to lose a moment.”

            “Told ya.” Andy grinned. “Once exposed to all that is horse, there’s no going back.”

            Miranda popped the trunk of the car and tugged at a suitcase.

            “Here, let me help with that.” Andy offered.

            “Thank you. You are too kind.” Miranda teased.

            Andy dragged two large suitcases from the car. Eyeing Miranda she observed, “That’s a small bag.”

            “It is my overnight bag.”

            “Is that all you have?’

            “I am only staying overnight.” Miranda retorted.

            “Just one night?”

            “Yes, Andréa, just one night. I need to be back for Monday. Runway will not produce itself.”

            “Yeah, but…”

            “No, no. There are no ‘buts’ about it. You have the girls for the next two weeks, as agreed. Their father will then have them for three weeks, and then they will return here until the end of August.” Miranda turned to head for the house. “You will only have me for weekends at most.”

            “Well, that sucks,” Andy muttered under her breath, unaware of Miranda’s remarkable sense of hearing. Miranda smiled smugly at Andy’s pouting.

            After bags were deposited in designated rooms, Miranda met Andy in the kitchen.

            “It’s only 3 o’clock, but it’s 5 o’clock somewhere if you’d like a drink.” Andy offered.

            Miranda shook her head subtly in refusal to the offer of alcohol but requested, “Might you have ice tea available?”

            “Absolutely.” Andy smiled brightly. “Unsweetened and chilled.”

            “That would be lovely.”

            Twin drink glasses sat forgotten on the arms of matching porch chairs, sweating in the heat of the afternoon.  An exasperated Andy Sachs paced across the wooden floor in front of a glowering Miranda Priestly leaning against the rail.

            “I do not understand why you are being so adamant, Andréa.”

            “Because, Miranda,” Andy turned to face Miranda directly. “I am not a model.”

            “Oh for…”

            “No. Seriously. I think you must have hit your head, or a migraine scrambled your brains. I’m no model, Miranda. There is no way I’m going to do this. And for you to even consider this idea…”

            “Andréa, stop. Just stop.” Miranda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “I am not some novice yahoo trying to make a name for myself on social media. I have been directing a world class fashion magazine for more than a decade. An award winning fashion magazine, for that matter. I know what I am doing. And I know you would be perfect for this project. You will be paid handsomely, of course.”

            “Paid?! It has nothing to do with money, Miranda. There is no way I’m pretty enough or skinny enough to be a fashion model.”

            “Well, that is a stupid argument.”

            “Oh yeah, that’ll get you the outcome you’re looking for. Call the girl stupid.”

            “I did not call you stupid. I simply said it was a stupid argument. A world of difference. And frankly, your figure is perfect for the designer I have in mind. And to be truthful, you are simply beautiful.”

            Everything stopped. No one breathed. No one moved. Seconds passed.

            Miranda began to feel itchy, a drop of sweat trickling down her back.

            Andy, eyes wide and full of disbelief and alarm, lifted her head slowly to find Miranda’s eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?” she challenged. “You can look at me like this; my hair a mess, no makeup, in filthy, torn farm clothes and you can see beauty?”

            Miranda barely hummed in agreement.

            “I should freaking marry you.” Andy beamed.

            “Yes, well…”

            “But, I don’t think so.  I’m no model.”

            Miranda decided to let it drop. A temporary retreat to save face and devise a new plan would be best. So, she changed tactics.

            “So be it. However, there are separate elements to my design. If I cannot have you, may I have the use of your farm?”

            “The farm?”

            “Yes. I expect with early autumn sunlight, it will be a perfect backdrop. Therefore, I would like to lease the property for a few days in September.”

            “I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”

            “Excellent.” Miranda returned to her chair and iced tea. Getting the farm was an accomplishment. Getting Andy would take more thought, time, and effort but Miranda was confident it would come to pass.

            “Hey Andy,” Caroline called from the walkway.

            “Hi Caro. Where’s Cass?” Andy had fallen into shortening the girls’ names as endearments.

            “She’s hanging with Doug. They’re working in the garden.”

            “Why aren’t you?” Andy asked without accusation.

            “No horses involved.” Caroline pouted slightly.

            “Horses need a day off now and then. But cheer up. Lily’s expecting you tomorrow at ten.”

            “Oh, awesome.”

            “There’s ice tea or lemonade in the fridge if you want.”

            “Cool. Thanks.”

            Caroline disappeared into the house leaving an astonished Miranda in her wake.

            “How did you do that?” Miranda wondered.

            “Do what?”

            “Get in so easily with my girls? They are notoriously distant from people. In fact, they never warmed up to their stepfather.”

            “We operate on the same level.” Andy teased. “Actually, did you ever stop to think it was the stepfather that was at fault?”

            “All too often. Telling.”

            “Yeah.”

            Caroline returned to the porch just as Miranda stepped onto the grass.

            “Mom, where are you going?’

            “I’m going for a walk, Caroline.

            Miranda wandered aimlessly around the property. She noted various structures, scenery, views and angles that created promising backdrops to a wistful, artistic concept of a promised photoshoot with an ideal but skeptical model. By the time she returned to the house, Miranda had filled an entire edition of Runway with imaginary fanciful snapshots. She also had a nagging headache and an irritated state of mind. Mounting the porch stairs, Miranda found Andy reclined in one of the chairs, waiting quietly.

            “How was the walk?”

            “Illuminating.”

            “You were out for quite a while. The girls were hungry so I fed them. I hope you don’t mind.”

            “What?” Miranda startled and checked her watch. “Oh, no. Of course I don’t mind. Thank you. I had no idea it was getting this late. Where are they now?”

            “Watching a DIY show on HGTV. Are you hungry?”

            “I expect I should be. However, my head is pounding any thoughts of hunger out of my mind.”

            “You’re probably dehydrated. Come on. Let’s get some sustenance into you. You’ll feel better in no time.”

            Miranda docilely followed Andy into the house. A little embarrassed about not taking better care of herself and extremely annoyed that she was caught out by Andy. As a whole, she was counting the day as a bust.

            A plate of poached salmon over a bed of greens and a tall glass of water were placed in front of her at the kitchen island. Thankfully, Andy chose to leave her to her meal in silence. Alone in the kitchen, Miranda could hear the television in the distance. Her attention focused on the sound of her daughter’s voice.

            “What did you say to her?”

            “Nothing.” Andy pleaded innocence. “Unless you count saying ‘no’ something.”

            “You what?!”

            “I said ‘no’ earlier.”

            “That’s not good Andy, nobody says ‘no’ to mom. She’s probably gonna sue you or something. What did she want you to do, anyway?”

            “She asked me to be a model for Runway.”

            “Really? Wow. That’s kind of cool. It would be good to see a real person in it.”

            “Wait. What? You think it would be a good idea?”

            “Well, yeah. I mean, all we ever see are anorexic, bulimic, skeletons as coat hangers for clothes. A real person would be refreshing.”

            “I hadn’t really thought of that,” Andy murmured. Suspicious eyes glanced up at Caroline. “Did she put you up to that?”

            “What?”

            “Your mom. Did she tell you to say that to me?”

            “Nah. I didn’t even know she had ideas to ask you. That one was top secret.”

            “And you think it would be a good idea?”

            “Yeah. It’s not like you aren’t pretty enough.”

            “Really? You think so?”

            “Yeah.” Caroline was actually getting fairly enthusiastic about the idea. “Maybe she’ll even put you on the cover.”

            “Now that’s just crazy.”

            “You could pull it off. Especially if they let you smile instead of doing that pouty, serious, thoughtful pose they keep repeating.”

            Andy had to share a laugh with Caroline over that observation. “Were you going to the kitchen for something?”

            “Brownies, of course.”

            “You saw those, did you?” Andy laughed.

            “Yeah. They look awesome.”

            “I don’t know about awesome, but they sure look decadent.”

            “So, can we?”

            “If you can get them past your mom…”

            “No problem.”

            Miranda spied the plate of brownies. Feeling much better since eating something, she acted on an impish impulse. Grabbing the snacks, she placed them in the dishwasher with her now empty dinner plate.

            “Hi, mom. How was your afternoon?”

            “Quite lovely, Caroline. And yours?”

            “Great. We did a bunch of puttering chores.”

            “Puttering chores?”

            “Yeah. Things like cleaning stalls, moving hay, inspecting tack. You know, things that need to get done but have no real urgency.”

            “Ah. I see.” Miranda smirked as she watched Caroline look around in confusion. “Looking for something Bobbsey?”

            “Yeah. Did you see a plate of brownies?”

            “I can’t say I have.”

            “Huh. Weird.”

            Miranda followed Caroline back to the den.

            “Where are the brownies?” Cassidy questioned.

            “They aren’t there. Andy, did you move them?”

            “Nope. They should be on the counter.”

            “But they aren’t. Where’d they go?”

            “No clue. Maybe Doug grabbed them on the way out.”

            “Aw man. That sucks.”

            The evening slipped by with entertaining opinions and arguments over the designs presented on their television shows. The girls finally wandered off to bed at 9:30. Miranda brought her glass to the kitchen, followed by Andréa.

            Andy sputtered “What did you do?” when she observed Miranda removing the brownies from the dishwasher.

            “Whatever do you mean?” Miranda asked, her voice dripping with innocence.

            “Wow. That’s just wicked.”

            Miranda plucked a treat from the plate and slid past Andy, offering a conspiratorial wink before heading to her room.

            Miranda was up early the next morning. Packed and ready, she bid her sleepy eyed daughters goodbye before topping off her travel mug with fresh coffee and easing out the front door. The vision of Andréa leaning against her car caused Miranda to falter, sloshing a small splash of coffee from her mug onto her hand. She hissed at the sting of the burn.

            “You ok?”

            Miranda bristled at the concern in Andy’s voice. “I am fine. Is there some reason you are lounging against my car?”

            “Just want to make sure you have everything. Will you be up next weekend?”

            “I cannot promise at this moment.”

            “You’re leaving awfully early. Do you need to work this afternoon?”

            “No. I am going to have breakfast with my father before I leave.”

            “Ah. Well, tell him I said ‘hey’.”

            “If I must.”

            Andy pulled the car door open for Miranda and held her hand out for her bag.
            “If you want to pop the trunk, I’ll store it for you.”

            Miranda squeezed past Andy, dropping the handle of her Louis Vuitton leather travel bag into an outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

            The ice queen of the fashion world drove away without another word, leaving a bewildered Andy in the gravel dust.

            It was two weeks before Miranda could get away from the city. Two weeks of nightly phone conversations with the girls. Two weeks of sleepless nights spent tossing and turning. Two weeks of inattentive meetings and distracted consultations. Two weeks of haunting memories that could only be exorcised when pencil was put to paper. A dozen set sketches scattered her desk the afternoon before she left for upstate.

            “What are we looking at here?” Nigel asked over Miranda’s shoulder, his eyes scanning the drawings she had produced.

            “Ideas for the winter shoot,” Miranda answered absently.

            “Are these real?” Nigel was impressed by the accuracy from so few pencil strokes.

            “Mmm.” Miranda hummed assent.

            “This is the farm?”

            “Yes.”

            “Who did you use for a model with these?”

            Miranda glanced down sharply, her eyes immediately taking in the image Nigel was referencing. She had mostly sketched her remembrances of the farm with the fences, fields, and small apple grove, studying the lines and angles, positioning a ghost of a human figure as placement. However, in one illustration, she captured a close up of Andy’s face with a focus on her eyes.

            “Is this your mystery model?” Nigel wondered aloud. “She’s gorgeous.”

            Ignoring the appreciative critique, Miranda pulled the pages into a stack and slid them into a file. “Despite the obvious complementary pairing of subject to apparel, we will need to find another.”

            “Oh. Too bad. She looks perfect for the Somerset line.”

            Ice cold eyes glared at Nigel, punishing him for stating the obvious. He ducked his head, offering an apology through supplication. “I’ll see who I can find.”

            Another restless night led Miranda to abandon the idea of sleep and she hit the road at four in the morning. She stopped by her family home only to find her father was up and out. She had expected him to be home but figured he had gone to the town diner for an early breakfast. She continued on to the farm with the hope of fresh coffee and finding her daughters in good humor. She was simply too tired to deal with foul tempers.

            Parking her car in its usual spot, Miranda made note of the silence enveloping the house. Knocking on the door produced no response from within. Loathe to simply break in, Miranda abandoned propriety as the need for a lavatory made her just a little desperate. The door swung open easily, offering relief.

            Returning to the kitchen, Miranda realized there did not appear to be any life in the house. No girls arguing. No dogs barking. No Andréa making coffee. She expected more household activity for 8:30 but held any concern in check while she made more coffee.

            The door banged open against the wall as Cassidy and Caroline burst into the kitchen. Miranda jolted awake, her heart pounding and her lungs fighting to breathe from the shock. She jumped from the kitchen chair, hand on her heart, and turned to receive excited greetings from her girls.

            “Mom! You’re here!”

            “When did you get here?”

            Welcomed arms crushed her, helping to reset her emotional balance.

            “Miranda girl. When did you arrive?”

            “Dad? What are you doing here?”

            “Working.”

            “Hey, what’s all the excitement…? Oh hey, you got here in time for lunch.” Andy happily greeted Miranda.

            “Lunch?” Miranda blinked in confusion.

            “Well, yeah. That’s usually the meal we eat in the middle of the day.”

            “But it’s only…” Miranda’s argument faded when she saw the clock on the wall. “1:15? Is that really the time?”

            “Sure is, mom. And we’re starved.” Caroline reported.

            “We’ve been out haying since seven,” Cassidy added.

            “Do we have any tea?” Doug’s voice preceded his entry. As he came through the door, he stopped to figure out why everyone was just standing around in the kitchen. “Oh, hi. Good to see you, Miranda. When did you get here?”

            Finally catching up with everyone, Miranda answered, “I arrived at 8:30.”

            “Well what have you been doing?” her father, Joseph asked.

            “I believe I fell asleep.”

            “Sleeping? What is it with you and sleeping days away? You ok?” Joseph’s brusque voice was tempered with fatherly concern.

            “I’m fine. I guess I was tired from the drive.”

            “So, who’s up for leftover lasagna?” Andy called from the refrigerator.

            “Me!”

            “Me too.”

            “Sounds good to me.”

            “That’ll be fine, Andy.”

            Miranda stared blankly at Andy. She had been soundly asleep at the table and was still trying to wake her brain up.

            “Hey, Cass. Can you do the reheat with the microwave? And Caro, will you set the table?”

            “Sure.”

            “No problem, Andy.”

            “You two go wash up.” Andy directed to the men.

            Once the room was sufficiently quiet, Andy stepped over to Miranda and softly inquired, “Are you ok?”

            “Yes. Just still asleep, I think.”

            “How’s your head? Migraine?”

            “No. I’m fine.”

            “Do you want to go lie down?”

            “No. Thank you.” Miranda’s voice grew sharp, warning of her growing ire.

            “Right. Something to eat? Scrambled eggs, perhaps?”

            The fact that at this moment Andy did not offer lasagna meant the world to Miranda.

            “That would be wonderful.”

            “Great. Why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll get you a new cup and some breakfast.”

            “Thank you, Andréa.” Miranda laid her hand on Andy’s arm with sincerity. “You are a lifesaver.”

            “Five summers as a lifeguard at the county pool. It’s gotta count for something.” Andy grinned.

            Miranda smiled softly then headed off to splash some very cold water on her face.

            Miranda returned just as Andy was plating her eggs. The others were already tucking into their lasagna. Miranda sat and had a fresh coffee and glass of juice placed in front of her. She offered Andy a smile in thanks and received a wink in return.

            Andy sat to Miranda’s left and helped herself to a plateful of aromatic pasta, joining the jovial conversation. Stealing glances at Miranda, she visibly relaxed when she saw Miranda actually begin to eat.

            Stories and laughter filled the room with good cheer. Food and drinks had Miranda feeling damn near human again. Miranda’s coffee cup wasn’t even empty before chairs scraped across the floor as the crew all prepared to return to the fields. The dishes were placed in the washer. Cassidy and Caroline each gave their mom a quick kiss on her cheek and trotted off after Doug and Joseph.

            “Are they alright out there?” Miranda asked.

            “They’re doing great.”

            Miranda caught Andy’s full attention, searching eyes for the truth. “Are they safe?”

            “Absolutely,” Andy answered without hesitation. “They’re taking turns driving the horses. And doing a damn fine job, too. They are out of the way of thrown or falling bales. There’s no motorized machinery. I won’t let them get hurt.”

            “Thank you, Andréa.”

            “Of course.” Andy paused. “I have to go, but feel free to relax. Take a nap. Get rest. You look exhausted.”

            “Well, that’s flattering.” Miranda quipped sarcastically.

            “Whatever. Just relax. We’ll probably get back around six.”

            Miranda finished her coffee and did a quick cleanup of the kitchen. Getting bored and restless, she opted to venture outdoors. Her aimless wandering brought her to the top of a rise in the terrain that overlooked the fields that were being hayed. She watched for a few moments, fascinated with the teamwork before her. Slipping her phone from her hip pocket, Miranda began to photograph the production on display.

            It was not long before the crew was done with the fieldwork and headed for the barns. Miranda captured a sequence of the progression from the field to the hay barn. Andy was driving from atop the wagon with Cassidy sitting to her right. Carolyn was perched on the stack of hay bales while Doug and Joseph swung their feet from the tail end of the wagon.

            Andy pulled to a stop when she reached Miranda’s position and called to her. “Want a ride?”

            Miranda grinned affably but declined. “No, thank you. I prefer to walk.”

            “Suit yourself.” Andy chuckled and drove on.

            Miranda followed at a leisurely pace and still made it in time to record her girls working hard for posterity.

            Andy had backed the wagon into the hay barn and unhitched the horses. The twins, along with Doug and Joseph, hoisted the hay bales, building stacks that reached into the roof’s beams.  Miranda busied herself trying to chronicle everything.

            With the day’s chores finally finished, the band of laborers trudged across the dusty drive to the house and refreshment. The kitchen door opened to the aroma of country cooking.   Miranda eyed Andy in surprise at the delightful scent as the troops playfully fought for access to the kitchen sink.

            “Who was here cooking? Lily?”

            “Nah, just the joy of technology. Slow cooker roast. Can’t be beat.”

            After the meal was destroyed, Joseph and Doug had taken their leave, and the twins had fallen asleep in front of the television, Miranda surreptitiously began to work on Andy.

            “I must tell you, I am amazed at the amount of food you all consumed today. How do you eat like that and remain so fit?”

            “Good old fashioned physical labor.” Andy offered.  “Even the girls have begun to actually eat. But then, they’re usually out of the house just after sunrise and they don’t stop until the moon is high.”

            “I’m beginning to think I need to rescue them from this labor camp.”

            Andy laughed outright at that. “You could try, but I think they’d fight you. I’m already getting an earful of requests to convince you to let them stay here instead of going to their father’s.”

            “Funny you should mention that.” Miranda turned her charm meter to full. “Would you be amenable to the girl’s returning in two weeks instead of three?”

            “Really? Why?” Andy’s voice conveyed only curiosity, no judgment.

            “Apparently their father has double booked himself for that last week. I would prefer they spend the time here, happily toiling on the farm, then bored and withering in a house on the Hamptons with a stepmother they have little tolerance for.”

            “I would love to have them back. And not just because I get a break from chores.” She grinned.

            “I must admit, I have never witnessed them so eager to partake in proletarian tasks.”

            “Yeah. Turns out the air is sometimes easier to breathe down here in the trenches of the hoi polloi.” Andy snarked.

            “I did not mean to offend.” Miranda half apologized. “I only mean, they are not usually first in line to volunteer for, as you said, ‘physical labor’.”

            “I suppose it wasn’t in their wheelhouse.”

            “Hmmm.” Miranda chose to slip away from the topic. Glancing around the room, looking for a new subject, Miranda’s attention was drawn to a cluster of photographs displayed across the top of an upright piano. Recalling her earlier study of the collection while alone in the house she asked, “Who took those?”

            “I did.” Andy barely acknowledged the framed prints.

            “You?” Miranda again turned her full attention to Andy. “Just how many surprising talents lie within you?” she wondered.

            “Still waters, eh?”

            “Were you trained?”

            “What? In photography?”

            Miranda’s eyebrow arched up, effectively expressing the ‘well, obviously’ sentiment.

            “Nah. Self taught.”

            “You have a wonderful eye.”

            “Thank you. Nice of you to say.”

            “I am not being ‘nice’. Your use of light and shadow creates a visceral and intimate portrait. Even that shot of your dog chasing sheep pulls the viewer in, making one cheer for the contest at hand. Understated yet powerful.”

            “He’s herding.”

            “What?”

            “The dog. He’s herding, not ‘chasing’.”

            “Yes, well…”

            “No.” Andy’s flat tone held no room for consideration.

            “I’m sorry? ‘No’ what?”

            “No, I won’t do the modeling thing.”

            “I did not…”

            “You’re trying to butter me up. Yes, I will take the girls, happily. Yes, I like to take pictures. But no, I won’t be a model.”

            “Oh, well.” Miranda near sputtered.

            Andy stood and stretched, inadvertently exposing a momentary flash of skin. Picking up her wine glass, she nodded to Miranda. “Good night. I’m off to catch a few zees. See you tomorrow.”

            “Good night.” Miranda reflexively returned, her mind now racing to figure out a way to convince Andy the photoshoot idea was perfection. That indeed, Andy herself was perfection. But it was not an argument to be won at such a late hour. “What about the girls?” Miranda called after Andy.

            “Leave ‘em be. They’re fine where they are.”

            Miranda watched Andy disappear into her bedroom before tending to her daughters. She observed the girls sleeping soundly. Agreeing with Andy’s directive, she covered each with a blanket and headed off to her own room.

            Miranda wandered into the kitchen as the sun was pushing the gray of dawn out of the corners of the room. The smell of coffee had already permeated the house and lured her from slumber. Cradling a full cup close to her lips, she turned to see Andy enter from the back porch.

            “Good morning, Miranda. Sleep well?”

            “Yes, thank you. How long have you been up?”

            “Half hour. I was just sharing my first coffee with the sunrise.”

            “I thought Sunday was your ‘day off’. Don’t you like to sleep in?” Miranda claimed a chair and nodded for Andy to join her.

            Andy smirked, amused with the idea of sleeping in. “Sleeping in during the summer just never happens. Internal clock and early sun. Can’t sleep, so why waste daylight?”

            “What happens to you in winter?”

            “Hibernation, of course.” Andy grinned.

            “Must be nice,” Miranda muttered after a sip of hot java.

            “Well, after harvest, work slows down a bit. Paperwork increases, though. I tend to get more writing done.”

            “Are you working on anything at the moment?”

            “Some historical research and outlining for an idea.”

            Miranda’s mouth twitched as she fought the urge to snicker. “An ‘idea’? As in the ever elusive writer’s novel?” she teased.

            A light flush began to creep up Andy’s neck. She rubbed absently at the back of her neck and chuckled nervously. “Maybe?”

            Miranda evaluated Andy. Comprehending the cause of her nerves, she offered congenially, “I wish you success.”

            Andy’s face lit up with optimism. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

            Miranda quietly observed Andy over the rim of her coffee mug. After a few sips, she questioned. “Why are you so averse to the possibility of modeling?”

            Miranda regretted the question as soon as the words were released to the room. She cringed internally as a dark shadow extinguished the joy from Andy’s face. Just when Miranda thought Andy would run to avoid the question, dark espresso eyes blinked, and Andy cleared her throat.

            “I’m just not particularly fond of having my photo taken.”

            “Why ever not?” Miranda questioned in a gentle tone, innately understanding that this subject was, for some reason, painful to Andy.

            “Bad history.”

            “Andréa…”

            “Look,” Andy drew in a deep shaky breath and tried to explain. “When I was younger, I didn’t exactly have this awesome fashion sense.”

            Miranda amazingly kept her expression neutral and her mouth shut, giving Andy a safe space to share.

            “I was a seriously geeky kid. In my most formative or maybe fragile years I had acne, braces, and seriously frizzy hair.” Andy blew her bangs out of her eyes in a release of nerves. “After the age of ten, there isn’t a single photograph of me that I would consider viewable. I spent my teens actively hiding from the camera. At this point, that behavior is so ingrained that I still reflexively turn or walk away when I see a camera focused in my direction.”

            Miranda considered the words and the emotion behind them. “I believe you might be leaving something out. Avoiding something, maybe?”

            Andy eyed Miranda warily, weighing her comfort level in sharing. Dropping her head and focusing on the tabletop she added, “Teenagers are vicious.”

            “Ah.” Miranda could easily imagine all that was unsaid. Before she was able to frame her argument, a herd of elephants were heard tramping through the house. “Hark, the patter of angels.” Miranda quipped, just as her daughters burst into the kitchen.

            “Top of the morning, bairns.” Andy greeted the girls.

            “Hi, Andy.” “Morning.”

            “Good morning Bobbseys. You are both up early.”

            “Mom, it’s almost six. This is late.” Caroline protested.

            “Mom, are you staying today?” Cassidy asked.

            “I will be present for your lesson this morning however, I cannot stay for lunch today. I have a dinner meeting to attend.”

            “Andy, are we shifting the flock today?” Caroline inquired.

            “Yeah. But we’re just moving over one pasture. Your test today will be to see if you can work the dogs.”

            Two sets of blue eyes widened in surprise.

            “Really?”

            “Yes, really.” Andy grinned at the girls vibrating in their seats with excitement. “So grab some grub and get your dogs.”

            The girls wolfed down a quick breakfast of cereal and juice before bolting out the back door to gather up their four legged coworkers for the morning.

            Miranda found herself actually perched atop a pasture fence, watching as her daughters worked with the dogs to gather the sheep and direct them through the gate into an adjoining pasture.

            “Pretty amazing how good they are with the dogs,” Andy noted from a position at Miranda’s elbow.

            “I have never seen them so keen on any task before in their lives. How do you manage it?”

            “Easy when they view the tasks as fun. Throw an animal into the mix and they are completely game to try. They actually trimmed the sheep’s hooves this week.”

            Miranda arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

            “They both willingly scrub water tanks, muck out stalls, feed the stock and, as you witnessed, haul hay bales without a word of complaint.”

            “How do I transfer this eagerness to schoolwork this fall?”

            “Promise them a puppy?” Andy grinned up at Miranda.

            Miranda laughed outright.

            In the silence that followed, Miranda covertly observed the younger woman standing by her. She marveled at the ease in which they seemed to click together. From the moment they met, Miranda was besotted by Andy’s beauty and vigor. With every phone call and visit, she felt the tendrils of a deep connection entwine her soul.

            “Great job!”

            Andy’s shout jolted Miranda out of her reverie and back to reality. She looked up to see her girls share a high five and start a jog back with the two dogs.

            “Good time, too.” Andy offered when they reached the fence.

            Miranda grasped the hand Andy had reflexively offered to assist her descent from the top rail of the fence. With feet on the ground, she smiled lovingly at her girls.

            “You were masterful.” She enthused. “I am so proud of you both.”

            The girls happily accepted the congratulatory hug offered by their mother.

            “Right” Andy playfully interrupted. “Let’s get these two critters back to the house and watered. Then we need to head to Lily’s”

            The group marched across the field, dogs racing back and forth in front of them, leading them back to the house. Caroline and Cassidy chattered the entire way, critiquing their handling of the herding dogs. Happily arguing over who did a better job.

            Once the dogs were settled in their kennels, the family retraced their steps back across the verdant hills to Lily’s stables.

            “Hello. It’s good to see you again, Miranda.” Lily cordially greeted.

            “And you. I’m told I will be pleasantly surprised by the progress of my girls.”

            “I would hope so. They are coming along very well.”

            “Natural talent and a good instructor.” Andy supplied.

            Lily laughed easily and directed the twins to their horses.

            Miranda felt a spark of something foreign flash in her heart. She was struck mute with the realization that what she was experiencing was actually jealousy. Following Andy to the observation lounge, Miranda scowled internally. Anger flared at the idea that she would ever feel inadequate or threatened.

The anger intensified as her thoughts lingered on the absurdity of the situation. Lily, although very attractive, was not a romantic attachment of Andréa’s. There was never any mention of anything more than a longtime friendship between them. And there was not even a verifiable friendship between herself and Andy. For her heart to be possessive of the chestnut haired beauty sitting next to her was simply fantastical.

Miranda was so distracted with dissecting her emotions, she missed Andy’s question.

“Miranda?”

“Hmmm?”

“I asked if you wanted anything? A drink?”

“Oh.” Miranda refocused. “Perhaps a mineral water?”

Andy grinned. “Sorry. The best I can do is tonic water.”

Miranda grimaced in reply. “Tea?”

“Hot or cold?”

“Iced, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Miranda breathed deeply to push her confounding thoughts out of her head. She was in a better headspace when Andy returned with a tall glass of tea.

“Thank you,” Miranda murmured as she reached for the offered glass. Her fingers brushed against Andy’s, causing a spark to jump up her arm and into her heart. She glanced up to find Andy smiling gently at her as if she understood Miranda’s turmoil.

Adeptly switching tracks, Andy offered relief by redirecting Miranda. “They really have improved. Dogged persistence pays off.”

“Mmmm.” Miranda hummed in agreement past a large gulp of her drink. “Andréa?”

“Yes?”

“I meant to discuss this with you earlier. I know the girls are going to their father’s on Wednesday, but would you mind if I return at the end of the week with a few people from the magazine? I would like to work out a plan for the September photo shoot.”

“Oh, um, sure. Will you stay the weekend?”

“No. I would expect we should accomplish our goals in one afternoon. Perhaps Friday?”

“Yeah. Yes, I guess. Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The quizzical expression on Andy’s face confused Miranda. She opted to leave it alone. She had too much going on in her own head to worry about deciphering Andy’s moods.

“Mom, did you see our extended trot? I’m getting real good at it.”

“Yes Caroline, I did. Very impressive.”

“I’ve been working on the half-pass and Lily said I have an awesome seat.”

“Well Cassidy, I always thought your seat was pretty special.”

“Moooom.” Cassidy groaned. “Did you see how good Caroline is at collecting Junebug? Lily says that horse is notoriously lazy, but Caro gets her moving like a professional rider.”

Despite the twins vying for approval and attention from their mother, they were extremely supportive of each other. Miranda nearly glowed with motherly pride.

The girls chatted the entire way back to Andy’s house, explaining everything their mother had seen in the ring. They were fairly oblivious of the shift in their mom’s mood and their ignorance gave Miranda relief.

Once back at the farmhouse, Miranda prepared to take her leave.

“Alright you two, I do not want you to behave badly for your stepmother this time. Listen to your father. And listen to Andréa, especially when she drops you at the station. Don’t give her a hard time.”

“We won’t.”

“Gosh, mom. You act like we’re the worst kids ever.” Caroline jokingly pouted.

“No, I act like I am fully aware of how you like to prank my assistants. I do not want you doing that with Andréa. She is going out of her way to help you this summer and I expect the proper amount of gratefulness.”

“We’ll be good, mom. Especially with Andy. She rocks.” Cassidy promised

“May I assume that is a good thing?”

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“Very well. Be good. Have fun. I love you.” Miranda kissed both cheeks of each girl. Settling behind the wheel of the car, she glanced up to see Andy on the porch steps. Their eyes met and held for moments before Andy raised her hand to wave and Miranda put the car in gear.

“So, are we all set for tomorrow?” Nigel asked as he traipsed into Miranda’s office.

“Mmm.” Miranda hummed in confirmation.

“And what do you have here?” Nigel’s curiosity overflowed when he caught a glimpse of the photos on Miranda’s desk.

Aware that she was already caught out, Miranda sat back in her chair, allowing Nigel license to judge her foolish heart.

“Oh my…”Nigel flipped through the photos of Miranda’s visit to the farm. “Caroline and Cassidy?”

“Yes.”

“And this,” he placed a fingertip next to the image of Andy atop the hay wagon “is the model?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” The word ghosted past his lips.

“Yes.”

Miranda could not filter the misery carried forth in her words.

“Is there a problem?” Nigel asked curiously.

“Perhaps.” Miranda reset her focus and emotional balance. “She is a bit reluctant.”

“And you say she is the property owner?”

“Yes.”

“I guess we have a new objective on our hands.”

Miranda looked up, startled by Nigel’s words. “What are you up to?”

“Well, obviously we need to procure more than a photo location. We have a model to woo. And woo we will. I will see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

Nigel nearly skipped out of the office, alive with a challenge.

Miranda sighed. There was no way she could see this ending well.

Miranda pulled into Andy’s place with Nigel just as the rain began.

“I wasn’t expecting this weather today.” Nigel grumped.

“Did you check the report?” Miranda icily demanded.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Did you check the report for here or the city?” Miranda pushed a little.

Nigel glanced at her in surprise. “This isn’t Siberia. I never would have thought there would be a big difference. The city is clear and sunny.”

“We are four hours and two hundred miles from the city. Really, Nigel.”

“I apologize, Miranda. I didn’t think.”

“Hmmm. Well, come along. We may as well have some coffee. Perhaps it will break.”

Miranda marched to the front door with the confidence of one familiar with her surroundings. With Nigel at her heels, she knocked on the door and waited, not willing to expose exactly how comfortable she was in the setting.

The door opened to reveal a grinning Andy Sachs covered in a terry cloth bathrobe and wet hair dripping down her back.

“Hey. You made it just in time. There’s a storm a-coming.” She laughed easily.  She turned away to lead her guests into the house. “Come on in. Coffee’s on.” She waved in the general direction of the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll go finish getting ready.”

Miranda directed Nigel into the kitchen. She absently pulled two cups from the cupboard and set about preparing the coffee.

Nigel accepted the cup offered with a smirk and a wink.

“What?” Miranda asked.

“So. Here you are.” Nigel accused cattily.

“Implying?”

“You seem to be rather…familiar here.” He hedged.

“Yes, Nigel. I have been here before. Obviously.”

“Well, yes, obviously. But I thought you were here as a guest, not a member of the family.”

“You are skating and the ice is definitely thinning. In fact, I think I heard a crack.”

“Just an observation. How well do you know this girl?”

“Woman.” Miranda bristled.

“Yes, woman. How long?”

“I don’t see how that is your concern.”

“Is this nepotism, Miranda? Is she family? Are we going to run into difficulties with Irv over this shoot?”

“Absolutely not.” Miranda’s voice dropped to a whisper as her temper flared, furious with the accusations and the accuracy of Nigel’s intuitive aim. “She is no more than an acquaintance.”

Nigel watched Miranda closely for any sign of deceit. Nodding he allowed, “Ok. We don’t need Irv and the board breathing down our necks. I hear he is already put out that you want this location.”

“Leave that troll to me. Financially, we are well within the budget. The problem we must overcome is a disinclined model.”

Miranda no sooner ended her argument than Andy returned.

“How was the ride up this morning?”

“Uneventful.”

“Great.” Andy turned a welcoming smile to the new person in the room. “Hi, I’m Andy Sachs.”

“Nigel Kipling, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s mine. Are you the photographer?”

Nigel coughed, choking down a mouthful of coffee.

“No.” Miranda covered for him. “He is my artistic director.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sorry about the rain. Supposed to last all day. Should blow off overnight though. So, it’ll be beautiful tomorrow. Were you planning to stay over?”

“Overnight?” Nigel asked, his tone almost hopeful.

“It was not our plan,” Miranda explained.

“Well, you can wander around in the rain, or change your plans. Your call.” Andy smiled challengingly over her coffee cup.

Nigel smirked in appreciation of the girl’s gumption.

Miranda glared at them both. “Nigel, did you bring the laptops?”

“But, of course.”

Turning her angry eyes back to Andy she requested, “Do you mind if we use the dining room to work?”

“Please.” Andy’s lips pressed together to extinguish her laughter. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

Miranda was grumpy all afternoon. She didn’t know who to be angrier at; Nigel for not confirming everything accurately or herself for not doing everything on her own. She was addressing a backlog of emails when she heard voices in the kitchen that drew her attention.

“Just for curiosity’s sake, you’d be a size 6?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?!”

“Well, my underpants are 6 but I wear my jeans in an 8. That could be because they’re supposed to be skinny jeans but I like them a little loose.”

“Why don’t you just wear a different style?”

“Dunno. Always wore these.”

“Fashion isn’t exactly your thing, is it?” Nigel’s voice was amused but not condescending.

“Nah.”

“That why you don’t want to do this job?”

Miranda heard no reply from Andy but Nigel continued.  

“You’d be a perfect fit, you know. The clothing style was practically designed for you. A woman with actual curves. Earthy, real. You.”

“Caroline said something similar to me.”

“Caroline? As in Caroline Priestly?”

Miranda stepped from the shadows to break up the conversation. “Perhaps you might be willing to return to earning that paycheck of yours.” She shot at Nigel.

“Right.” Nigel nodded. “Andy, thank you.” He smiled and quickly left the room.

“That was a little pissy.” Andy accused.

Miranda’s eyebrow was nearly lost in her hairline. “I’m sorry?”

“We were only chatting over a cup. Don’t your employees get coffee breaks?”

Miranda’s walls slammed shut. Her voice cutting like shattered glass. “Do not dare tell me how to do my job.”

“I’m doing no such thing. I’m just pointing out you were kind of rude.”

“We are not here for a chatfest. We are here on business. Might you keep that in mind?”

“Roger that. No fraternizing with the enlisted. Got it. But, since it is after five, do you all get a dinner break?”

“You are far too impertinent, Andréa.”

“My house. My rules. And everyone in my house is a welcomed guest unless I’m kicking them out.”

The battle of wills continued silently until Miranda finally nodded in agreement to the idea of dinner. “Perhaps a bit of sustenance would be acceptable.”

“Excellent. It’s pizza night and Doug isn’t here to share. You good with veggies all the way?”

Miranda nodded mutely, once again stunned by the intractable and joyful person standing in front of her.

“Yo, Nigel,” Andy shouted past Miranda. “You good with veggie pizza or do you prefer meat toppings?”

Nigel returned to the kitchen warily. “Veg is fine.”

“Beer or wine?” Andy asked of both her guests.

“Wine.” Miranda seethed.

“Beer is good,” Nigel added gamely.

“Good enough. I’ll call it in. Be about an hour, just so you know.” Adding an evil grin towards Miranda she threw in, “You can get some more work done.”

Nigel chuckled as he fell in step behind Miranda. “I see what you like about her.”

“You both are in the doghouse.”

“Of course.”

After dinner, of which Miranda consumed a single slice of pizza, leaving Andy and Nigel to destroy the remainder of the large pie, the trio settled in for what turned out to be a pleasant evening.

Andy and Nigel were each working on their third bottle from a shared 6 pack of an amber ale while Miranda sipped on only her second glass of a slightly spicy red blend. Conversation flowed easily. Andy, with Miranda’s silent approval, regaled Nigel with entertaining stories of Caroline and Cassidy’s adventures on the farm.

Miranda remained mum, happy to observe as the storyteller in Andy easily seduced Nigel. Miranda was amazed at how effortlessly Andy could bewitch people. Everyone the girl met fell in love with her.

A bark of laughter from Nigel startled Miranda out of her musings.

“Miranda, have you tried driving the horses?”

“Heavens no.”

“Andy says the girls are naturals. They must have gotten their talent from someone…”

“Undoubtedly. However, since they have two parents, it is entirely possible the gift came from their paternal line.”

“She’s afraid,” Andy whispered conspiratorially.

“Fear has nothing to do with it.” Miranda objected.

“I believe you said they were ‘huge brutish beasts that could easily tear your arms out of their sockets.’” Andy countered. “Sounds like fear to me.”

“Oh, shut up.” Miranda scowled playfully. “You will see tomorrow, Nigel, just what it feels like to stand next to one of those beasts. Then tell me I am wrong in my assertion.”

Miranda stood, signaling the end of her evening. “Despite the fact I do so enjoy being the subject of a good ribbing, I think I will call it a night. We need to be up early tomorrow to best evaluate the light. Goodnight.”
            “Goodnight, Miranda. Sleep well.” The softness of Andy’s voice conveyed much more than the words’ intent. 

Nigel’s eyes betrayed his surprise, but his mouth remained closed.

Miranda headed off to bed and Andy started to clean up the remains of their repast.

“You know Andy,” Nigel began as he helped clear their debris “you would make a certain editor in chief exceptionally happy if you say yes to the dress.”

“No way. Not happening, Nigel. I am not a model. I never wanted to be a model. And I am not going to be a model. I don’t care how happy it would make anyone.”

“She isn’t used to not having her way.” Nigel voiced, more for his own consideration than for Andy’s

“Well, maybe it’s time she experienced a bit of disappointment.”

Nigel watched Andy as she finished loading the dishwasher, evaluating her intently. “In truth, Miranda Priestly has experienced a fair share of disappointment in her life.”

Andy pulled herself to her full height and faced Nigel straight on. Arms crossing over her chest she paused a moment before speaking, “I am not here to save her from injury to her pride. She asked. I said no. I expect my decision to be respected. I’m sure you can find some professional model to fill your need for this advertisement. I have agreed to allow Runway the use of my home and my livestock. I will happily offer guidance to you and whatever models you do choose. I, however, will not be said model. Capiche?”

“Si. Assolutamente.” Nigel splayed his hands in front of him in defense. “You will hear no more from me on the subject.”

“Thank you. Now, go to bed.” Andy grinned. Just like that, she was over her ire. “Early day tomorrow. Sun’s up by 5:30.”

Nigel groaned in mock distress. “You farmers. Ungodly hours.”

Andy laughed as she led Nigel from the kitchen.

The sky was already lightening and the aromas of coffee filled the kitchen as Nigel shuffled in at 5:15. Miranda, dressed in slacks and flats, was gazing out the back door, sipping her coffee as she monitored the beginning of sunrise.

“Just you and me?” Nigel inquired.

“Andréa is already outside.”

“Really?”

“Mmmm. She is readying our transportation.”

“What ‘transportation’?”

The screen door was pulled open as if on cue and Andy slipped past Miranda. “Are you ready?” she asked brightly.

“Of course,” Miranda answered.

“Hey Nige, how’d you sleep?”

“Perfectly. What are you up to?”

“Just filling the travel mug,” Andy smirked impishly. The new day wiped the slate clean of any and all possible infractions. They were all on a new playing field.

Andy tightened the top of her mug and headed back towards the door. “All right. Let’s get this day started.”

“Come along, Nigel,” Miranda ordered as she followed Andy out the door.

“Right behind you.” Nigel fell to heel.

“What on earth?” Nigel stared in disbelief. He shook his head in denial of the image in front of him. Andy was handing Miranda into a horse carriage. Never would his imagination have contrived such a vision.

Once settled on the seat Miranda glanced his way. “Nigel?”

“Right. Right.”

“Need a hand?” Andy asked innocently.

“I think I can do it, thanks.”

Nigel gamely hoisted himself into the carriage and settled in next to Miranda.

Andy easily clambered into the driver’s seat. “All right, kids, we’re off.” With a sharp whistle and a command of “get up there”, the carriage started to roll.

Miranda’s hand fell on Nigel’s arm, silently guiding his attention towards the brightening horizon as they trundled along toward the open hay fields.

The soft plodding of the horses, the creak of the carriage, and the pastoral view newly illuminated in the light grays and pinks of the breaking dawn shrouded the passengers in blissful peace. Nigel pulled out his phone and started trying to capture the emerging scenery.

Andy halted the carriage at the apex of a hillock, offering an expansive unobstructed survey of the property. The world was awakening around them. The birds were in full voice, the sheep were actively grazing with ewes audibly tracking their lambs by their responses. The horses occasionally snorted or, shaking, rang the sleigh bells.

The colors also came alive. As the sun ascended, the lush green pasture seemed to burst with its color. The adjoining field that hosted the sheep was covered in clover; the white and purple flower heads were tiny explosions of iridescence. The early morning light enhanced the abundance of life on the farm.

Miranda couldn’t help but smile in empathy at the wonder suffusing Nigel’s visage.

“Did I not tell you?”

“My God, Miranda. This is…”

“Yes. Now, imagine the softness of September’s light.”

“Perfect.”

“Worth the drive.”

“You two staying for a clear sunset?” Andy queried.

“No. We will need to return.” Miranda stated with a touch of regret.

“So, will it work?’ Andy continued.

“This will be the best yet.” Nigel voiced with enthusiasm.

“Great. Who wants some breakfast?”

Miranda chuckled. “Do you ever not think of food, Andréa?”

“Only right after a meal.” Andy shot over her shoulder, sharing a joyful smile.

Andy sent the Runway duo off with bellies full of eggs, home fries, corn beef hash, and buttered toast.  “Oh please, we all die sometime.” she responded to Miranda’s cutting remark about heart disease. “Might as well enjoy the time we have here. Besides, it’s not as if we eat like this every day. It’s a celebration. Your artistic vision proved to be as precise as usual.”

“I suppose the young can be cavalier,” Miranda replied.

“I may be younger than you, but I expect you’re probably healthier.”

“Damage can be reversed to an extent.” Miranda offered.

“Aint nobody got time for that.” Andy laughed.

“Oh lord. Didn’t you say you had a degree in journalism?” Miranda questioned

“Yeah. Mail in classes.”

“Such cheek.”

Nigel silently enjoyed his meal, appreciating both the food and the rare glimpse of Miranda Priestly happy and relaxed.

After a quick glance at her watch, Miranda took a final swallow of coffee and pushed back from the table. “I am afraid it is time to end our visit. We really must be going.” She explained with reluctance.

“Ok. Want a travel mug?”

“That would be acceptable. Nigel, finish up.” Miranda was using the tone of voice saved for her children.

Nigel shoveled the last of his meal in. Miranda ate maybe a third of what was on her plate, but Nigel was not going to limit his gastronomic pleasure.

At the car Miranda paused by the open door and reached for Andy. Grasping the woman’s wrists, she pulled with a gentle, steady pressure. Once within range, Miranda leaned forward and kissed Andy’s cheek. “Thank you, Andréa. Your hospitality has been exceptional, as usual.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime.”

Andy stepped back out of the way once Miranda released her. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. Waving awkwardly she called out, “Nice to meet you, Nigel. See you soon.”

The car pulled away, leaving Andy standing alone to watch the taillights pull away.

Miranda stood at the end of the train platform, ignoring the multitude of travelers as she waited for her daughters. Spotting the familiar pair of ginger heads emerging from the train, she headed down the ramp to meet them.

“Mom!”

“Hello Bobbsey, how was your visit?” Miranda hugged Caroline, holding her until Cassidy caught up and was pulled into the circle.

“Dad needs a dose of us saying no,” Caroline stated flatly.

“What do you mean, darling?”

“He makes us go to his house then he ignores us. He’s always too busy for us. I think we should tell him we aren’t going over anymore. Give him time to miss us.”

“Oh, Caroline. I’ll talk with him.”

“Caro’s right, mom. You talk to him all the time. Every time he cancels last minute you talk, you yell, you argue. I think action is all he’ll pay attention to.”

Miranda stood frozen with uncertainty. She could not abide her children being hurt, but she knew they needed to maintain a relationship with their father. Taking in the resolute expressions of her girls, she acquiesced. “Perhaps you are right. You weren’t to visit again until September. Conceivably you could go with me to Andréa’s farm instead. We can blame it on a previous commitment and absentmindedness.” She flicked her hand in the air as if shooing away an annoying insect.

“Really? Can we go to the farm instead?” Cassidy brightened exponentially at the idea.

“I expect we can work out some arrangement with Andréa. Now, let’s go home.”

“Hello, Miranda. How are you?”

Andy’s voice across the airwaves was a balm to Miranda’s emotional irritation.

“Andréa, I was wondering if perhaps the girls might be able to assist you with some sort of project when Runway is taking over your farm next month.”

“You want to bring the twins with you? That would be awesome.”

“Awesome?” Miranda’s skepticism was thick.

“Yes, awesome. I’d love to have them up then. They’re still coming back to finish the summer, aren’t they?”

“Yes, yes.” Miranda sighed. “They will return this weekend as planned.”

“Yay.”

“Yay? Really Andréa, I do worry your distance from civilization is detrimental to your vocabulary.”

“I guess that’s possible. Anyway, are you driving them up?”

“Sadly, I cannot get away. They informed me they would rather take the train than have a chauffeured car. Would you mind meeting them Friday for the one o’clock arrival?’

“Noted. I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Now that I would pay to see.”

Miranda saw her girls off on their return to upstate with a heavy heart. Despite being professionally cut-throat and demanding as any other editor in chief of a world renowned magazine, she was a slave to the whims of her daughters. Their happiness was paramount in any decision Miranda made. Knowing full well the demands of the elaborate September issue would keep her confined to the city, she sent her “Bobbseys” away to complete their summer adventure, sentencing herself to a near month of heartache and loneliness.

Miranda’s phone rang at 1:25. Without looking at the screen she answered distractedly. “Yes?”

“Hello, Miranda. Just wanted to report they arrived alive and well. We’re headed to the car now.”

“Andréa. Must you always be so puerile?” Miranda questioned with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“If the frivolity fits…”

“Yes, well…”

“Ah, you’re busy. Ok, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to let you know they arrived. Have a quiet afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Bye.”

Once the phone disconnected, it took a moment for Miranda to refocus on work. The soft cough from Nigel caught her attention.

“Yes, Nigel, I do agree red is not the color we want. Fix it. You are the art director, are you not?”

“Right. Will do. Anything else?”

“No. That’s all.” Miranda turned away from the small group gathering up their fashion wares, effectively concluding the meeting.

The presence of her 2^nd in command hovering at her desk pulled Miranda’s attention from her laptop screen.

“Yes?”

Producing a thin folder, Nigel offered, “I found these possibilities.”

Quickly flipping through the short stack of photos Miranda pursed her lips, dissatisfied.

“Is this the best we can do?”

“In comparison to what we both know would have been perfection, yes.”

“Not exactly our usual collection, is it?”

“I expanded our search parameters. I went so far as to search through the LL Bean catalog. This is the closest I could come to her look.”

Miranda was perusing the photographs while Nigel spoke. With an irritated sigh, she pulled three sheets from the cluster and tossed the rest into the trash can.

“These. We need them for the third week of September.”

“Very good.” Nigel turned away with the photos in his hand.

“Thank you, Nigel.”

Miranda settled into a routine that, despite all the demands of work, centered on her daughters. Her first action when she awoke in the morning was to text her girls. This led to a day of quick text updates from the twins throughout the day. In the evening, Miranda would either call the girls or, if home, facetime with them.

One evening, Miranda, due at yet another high profile event, kept the throngs waiting while she took her time, sitting in the car, finishing up a conversation with her cherished daughters about the amount of hay a single draft horse can eat in a day. Had the paparazzi been privy to this insider information, the reputation of the Ice Queen would have been abolished.

One other change that developed was ending the evening calls only after checking in with Andréa. It started with an innocent request for information on local accommodations for the support staff during the photo shoot. Then it was information on catering possibilities followed by an inventory request of available carriages and wagons. Eventually, the work centric questions dwindled, yet the girls continued to automatically hand the phone off to Andy when they were finished chatting.

Miranda found it inexplicably comforting to chat with Andréa. Whether hearing corroboration of the girl’s stories, knowledgeable explanation of farming tasks or using the opportunity to benefit from a silent, nonjudgmental audience, Miranda was grateful to have Andy available at the end of the day.

The night before the girls were due to return home, Miranda was working alone in her office when her phone chirped to life. Checking the screen, she noted it was actually Andy calling. Feeling a twinge of unease she answered, “What happened?”

“Really? You automatically go there?” Andy mused.

“You never call. And the girls don’t call this early. So, despite my aversion to repeating myself, what happened?”

“Well, since you asked. Cassidy sort of sprained her wrist.”

“How?”

The drop in volume and flatness in tone of Miranda’s voice put Andy on high alert. She very quickly explained, “She was playing Twister with her sister. She couldn’t quite make the left foot on red and went down, taking Caroline down with her onto her right wrist. We’ve been to clinic. X-rays were taken just in case. There is no fracture and the sprain itself isn’t horrible. She’ll wear a support brace for a few weeks, but she’s already arguing with me because she still wants to do her share of farm chores.”

“Where are they now?”

“Cassidy is sleeping off the pain medications and Caroline is sleeping off the twin pain.”

Miranda was eerily quiet as she processed the information. Fully grasping the fact Cassidy was actually fine she chose to torture Andy for fun.

“I cannot believe it is too much to ask for you to keep my daughters safe.”

“I don’t think..”

“No, no. That wasn’t a question. I expect when I arrive tomorrow my girls will have no further injuries.”

“Ok?”

“And I expect them to be dressed appropriately for dinner.”

“Alright.”

“And you will need to wear something a step up from jeans and a tee shirt. We have reservations at Morgan and Company for seven. That’s all.”

Miranda disconnected the call with an evil smirk tugging at her lips. She might have laughed at her own playfulness had Nigel not entered.

“Who did you have exterminated?”

“Whatever are you talking about, Nigel? Did you make confirmations?”

“Yes. We have the three models you chose set to arrive on Monday the 14th. Everyone else will arrive the day before.”

“Very good.”

Miranda had worked late the entire week in order to be out of the office by noon on Friday. A “last minute” lunch meeting with Irv Ravitz and two other members of the board to defend the upcoming photoshoot location had Miranda demanding her bag two hours late.

It was an annoyance. She was easily the victor in the lunch debate, once again extinguishing Irv’s feeble attempt to control and embarrass her in front of his cronies. But the time delay was going to minimize her preparation for the scheduled dinner. Irritating to say the least.

The car tires finally came to a crunching stop in the now familiar gravel drive at 6:15. Just as Miranda put the car in park, the front door of the farmhouse banged open and Caroline leapt down the porch steps.

“Mom!”

Miranda barely had time to get free of the seat belt before Caroline was in her arms.

“Hello, my darling girl.” Miranda held Caroline tightly, absorbing the physical love she had been missing.

“Oof” Miranda was nearly knocked off her feet when Cassidy collided with the mini love fest.

“You’re late,” Cassidy announced as she effectively pushed her way between her sister and mother.

“Irv.”

“Why don’t you fire him? He’s such a jerk.” Cassidy protested.

“Well, since he is technically my boss, I cannot terminate him. I can, however, possibly persuade others to follow through with that exact action.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, let me look at you.”  Miranda pushed her girls away. Once at arms’ length, she let her eyes roam over her children. “My lord, you’ve grown.”

“No, we haven’t.” Caroline giggled.

“No, no. You are definitely taller.  These dresses reached your knees just this past spring. Easily two inches. Cassidy, how is your wrist?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine with the drugs.” Caroline added flippantly.

Miranda gave Caroline a warning glare before gravely inspecting Cassidy’s bandaged wrist.

The sound of the screen door banging pulled Miranda’s attention to the house in time to witness Andréa navigate her descent in what Miranda immediately identified as a pair of black four inch Manolo Blahnik slingbacks.  

Miranda’s eyes followed the length of legs that seemed to go on for days before the vision was broken playfully at mid-thigh by black flared material. The skirt merged into a fitted sleeveless racerback top and Andréa perfected the look with subtle makeup and a slick hairdo as befitting Audrey Hepburn.

“Hey. You made it.” Andy greeted brightly. “Do you need a rest stop? We kind of need to get moving if you don’t want to be late for the reservation.”

“It’s cool if we’re late. They always sit mom.” Cassidy thankfully answered since Miranda still had not been able to take a breath.

Caroline watched her mother closely. She reached for Miranda’s hand, the physical touch breaking the spell. “Mom? Do you need the restroom?” she whispered.

“What?” Miranda nearly jumped. “Oh, umm, no. No, I’m fine. Shall we go?”

The girls climbed into the back seat while Miranda stood frozen watching, as Andréa made it around the car and settled in on the passenger side. With Andy finally out of her sight, Miranda was able to pull herself together and returned to the driver seat, ready to start their evening.

Once on the roadway, Miranda chanced a glance at Andréa. After quickly scanning the black fabric the young woman was practically poured into, Miranda verbalized her assessment.

“Donna Karan?”

“What’s that?” Andy asked.

“The dress. Is it Donna Karan?”

“Uh, yeah. DKNY I think.”

“You look lovely.”  Miranda offered.

“Thank you. Every girl should have a little black dress. Just in case, ya know?”

“Mmmm, ‘just in case.’” Miranda agreed. “Although, after observing you through most of the summer, I must admit, I never would have suspected…this.”

Andy’s grin was infectious. “I know, right? Who knew there was a little cosmopolitan in this back wood’s farm girl?”

“A veritable fairytale.”

“Better have me home before midnight.”

“You look real nice, mom” Caroline spoke from the back.

“Thank you, Caroline. That’s nice of you to say.” Miranda glanced in the rearview. “I cannot believe how much you two have grown. Apparently we will be going shopping before school.”

The restaurant was located in the nearby city of Glen Falls. A 40 minute drive and the family was escorted to their table with minimal fanfare. Anonymity was a benefit of being away from New York City. Although there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere following Miranda through the building, it was merely an attraction to the woman’s innate authority, not the ubiquitous recognition of fame.

Miranda deemed Morgan & Co pleasingly acceptable. Another benefit of the distance from the big city was finding exquisite cuisine at a near discount price. After enjoying appetizers of oysters on the half shell and escargot stuffed mushrooms, followed by a meal of Chateaubriand, all paired with respectable wines, Miranda happily dropped her AmEx card on the table.  She easily fed her family a sumptuous dinner for half the price of her usual NYC fare.

The family strolled unhurriedly back to the car. Miranda’s wandering thoughts were interrupted by Andy’s compassionate voice.

“Would you like me to drive home?”

“What?” Miranda reflexively asked.

“Drive home.” Andy quietly pushed.

“Why?” Miranda was honestly perplexed by the question.

“Because you’ve been going all day since god knows when. I thought you just might be tired.”

“Oh, well, that would be acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Andy mocked.

Miranda eyed Andy warily while she decided how to respond. Opting to lower her protective defenses, she answered with simple appreciation.

“Actually, that would be wonderful.”

Andy’s face lit up with a delighted grin and she presented a hand, palm up. “Keys, please.” she sang.

Miranda’s return smile actually reached her eyes. Dropping the car keys into Andy’s hand she charged, “You really are quite the cheeky thing.”

In response, Andy made a show of opening doors for all the passengers. Offering her a slight bow, Andy fought a laugh when handing Miranda into the car. “Ms. Priestly.”

“Thank you.”

Once all seatbelts were clicked in, Andy started the engine, only to have a hand rest on her arm.

“Carefully.” Miranda cautioned.

“Utmost,” Andy whispered, eyes locking on Miranda’s

A whisper of a gasp slipped through Miranda’s lips. Espresso eyes that had been playful and sparkling now turned smoky and sultry. Pupils dilating in surprised emotions suddenly constricting with controlled focus.

Clearing her throat with a forced cough to break the spell, Miranda turned her face to the windshield and directed with a slight rise of her chin, “Let’s go home.”

“Right. Home.”

Andy changed the Sirius radio station to the 70s on 7 and pulled away from the curb singing along with ABBA’s ‘Voulez Vous’.

“Seventies Andréa?” Miranda challenged, her voice flat to cover the laugh.

“It’s what my dad always listened to,” Andy replied with a shrug before turning the volume up to belt the tune at a proper volume.

The sudden silence of the music shutting off roused all three of the Priestly women.

The girls staggered and stumbled their way into the house and up to bed.

Miranda followed them a bit more surefootedly into the house but was arrested by Andy’s voice from behind.

“Care for a nightcap?”

“I may be swayed.” She eyed Andy warily.

“Wine or spirits?”

“What have you to offer?”

“We could go old school grown up and have a cognac.” Andy proffered.

“And do you have an ‘old school’ bottle?”

“I have a bottle of Pierre Ferrand my dad gave me for Christmas. Haven’t opened it yet.”

“I’m not familiar.”

“Well then, let’s experiment.”

Andy made a show of uncorking the bottle, inhaling the released aroma, and pouring off two snifters. She handed a glass to Miranda with an infectious smile and a lively toast, “Cheers.”

“Salud,” Miranda responded in kind.

The first sip was rich and warm, spreading a heat Miranda felt down her throat and across her chest.

“My, that is good.”

“Yeah. Not bad at all. I’ll have to thank dad.”

At Andy’s suggestion, they moved out to the porch to enjoy their digestifs under the expanse of the late summer night sky.

“Andréa, I want to thank you.”

“What for?”

“Well, to start, for this drink.”

Miranda smiled in self-satisfaction for the bark of laughter that broke from Andy.

“I would also like to thank you,” she continued “for driving home tonight, for opening your home to my daughters, for your help with the upcoming shoot, for everything you have done for me. As selfless as you have been, please know it has not gone unnoticed. You shall be compensated.”

“Miranda, I haven’t done anything for ‘compensation.’”

“Yes, of course. Nevertheless…”

“No, Miranda. I don’t want any money.”

“Andréa, I am not necessarily speaking of money. There are other ways a person can be compensated.”

“Yeah, but still, I want it on record that I am neither expecting, nor asking for anything.”

Miranda scrutinized Andy’s profile. The younger woman effused an air of calm relaxation despite intently surveying the various dark shadows of the night. Her beauty was undeniable, as was her stubbornness. Miranda could not remember out of all her years in her profession, ever encountering someone as guileless, virtuous or irreproachable.  Miranda was perplexed by the puzzle that was Andy Sachs.

“You are a wonder, Andréa.” Miranda voiced in a near whisper.

Andy offered an enigmatic smile and lifted her glass in a silent acknowledgment. “No mystery, here. I’m as basic as a girl can get.” She took a swallow of liquid heat and whistled in appreciation.

“Are you truly happy with your life?”

“I am.”

“You have no wishes or desires?”

Sitting closely to Andréa made quiet conversation easy, but Miranda now found herself caught in emotionally open, dark eyes. Her heart stuttered at Andy’s words.

“Oh, but I do.” Andy’s eyes slid deliberately over Miranda. “I have wishes that, unfulfilled make my heart ache. I have desires that burn my soul.”

Miranda held her breath when Andy’s eyes returned to hold her own.

“Don’t take my contentment with life on the farm as the full definition of who I am.”

“Who are you?” The question was a ghost of a whisper past Miranda’s lips.

Andy leaned across the arm of her chair, invading Miranda’s personal space, her face mere inches from Miranda’s

“I’m blue jeans and muck boots and DKNY. I’m a realist and an artist, maudlin but pragmatic. I am an ancient soul in a youthful…” Andy’s eye flicked to Miranda’s lips “body.”

Miranda’s lips crushed against Andy’s in an act of desperation. Her hands greedily grabbed at the body that was so near, her fingers wrapping around a swanlike neck and digging into the flesh of an exposed shoulder.

A muffled groan from Andy instigated a duel fought with tongues, teeth, and lips.

The sensation of fingers brushing along her neck broke through Miranda’s fervor, forcing her to pull back, panting. Despite the potential awkwardness of the current state of affairs, Miranda refused to hide. Maintaining physical contact through her hands, Miranda held herself steady while keeping Andy from bolting for the door.

“Unexpected,” Miranda stated dryly, her voice tight with nervousness.

“But not bad.” Andy quipped.

“No. Not bad.” Miranda declared emphatically. “Not bad.”

“Repeatable?”

Could it be? Should it be? Ignoring all the obvious reasons for it not to be, Miranda focused solely on Andréa, reading so much of what was not being said in her eyes. Miranda released Andy’s shoulder and brushed her liberated fingers across a lightly blushed cheek. Pulling with gentle but deliberate pressure at the back of Andy’s neck, Miranda inclined her face for the perfect angle, allowing their lips to mesh exquisitely.

It was merely seconds or possibly hours. Two hearts caught adrift on sensation and emotion. Slow, passionate, tender, ardent kisses burned through the candle marks. A serene hum filled the space between them when Miranda pulled away.

Andy’s hands moved slowly as if on their own accord, to cover Miranda’s. Andy brought Miranda’s hands to her own lips, painting knuckles with tender kisses.

Miranda pulled away. Sitting back in her porch chair, she refused to release Andy’s hand. She reclaimed her glass and took a long pull of the amber liquid. She expelled a shuddering sigh of tension and squeezed Andy’s hand.

“I can’t…”

“No. Please don’t say anything.” Andy’s voice had a very hard edge to it.

Miranda felt lips brush across her knuckles one last time before she was left alone on the back porch.

After waking early to find Andy had already disappeared from the house with the twins, Miranda decided on a surprise visit with her father. Having shared conversation over one cup of coffee, Joseph offered to cook up breakfast. While he cooked, Miranda pondered the events of the previous evening. Miranda’s silent contemplation was disrupted by a plate of waffles being placed in front of her.

“What is this?”

“Miranda girl, I know it’s been a while, but this is breakfast.”

“No protein?”

“We only live once, my girl. Enjoy what you have.”

“I currently have my health, Dad. And I would like to keep it.”

“Bah. Eat up. You can put the berries on it to make it healthy.” He waved a hand dismissively in the general direction of a ceramic bowl.

“You are worse than Caroline and Cassidy.” Miranda laughed, reaching for the bowl filled with berries.

“I have trained them well, but there is still much to learn.” Joseph beamed. “Now, care to tell me what’s got you all twisted up?”

“Definitely not.”

“Ah. Personal relationships. Who is it this time?”

“That is none of your business.”

“If not mine, then whose?”

A burning glare from Miranda shut the topic down.

“Alright then, why aren’t you having breakfast at the farm with your daughters?”

“They are getting in the last few hours of horses. So, I thought I would spend the time with my father. I am beginning to think it was the wrong decision on my part.”

“That was your first mistake.”

“Obviously.”

“So what are you doing with Andy?”

“What?” Miranda’s eyes shot up to stare angrily at her father. “What do you mean ‘doing with’?”

“You know, with that photography thing happening at her farm. Did you get her to agree to pose?”

“No.” Miranda’s defenses backed down a few notches, reluctantly adding. “She agreed to assist with the animals. The modeling will all be professionals.”

“Too bad, that girl is quite a beauty.”

“Yes, she is.”

Miranda lowered her eyes back to the remains of her breakfast, missing the knowing smirk on her father’s face.

“Care for another cup of coffee?” Joseph held the pot up as Miranda placed her utensils down on her plate, finished with her meal.

“No, thank you. I should be on my way. Shall I help you clean up?”

“Nah, I know you have things. Go get your girls.” Joseph pushed back from the table and stood to assist Miranda from her chair.

Miranda paused at the front door to look at her father. After a moment of studying the man’s face, she wrapped her arms around his neck, surprising him with the physical display of affection.

“Thank you, Dad.” She muttered into his shoulder.

“Always, my girl.” Joseph held on, reluctantly letting go when Miranda pulled away.

“See you in a few weeks.”

“You bet. And drive careful now.”

“Carefully.” Miranda corrected, only to be accompanied by a rich laugh on her way down the front steps.

Miranda entered a still empty farmhouse. Having discussed with her daughters the necessity to leave a day early, she decided to get a jump on packing the car. Once in the girls’ room, she realized that there had been no preparation for travel. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Miranda dragged the suitcases out of the closet.

By two o’clock, the car was fully loaded and Miranda was getting antsy. She had a growing list of tasks to tend to before Monday rolled around and a Sunday “welcome back to school” luncheon with the girls would take up half the day.

Miranda rinsed her coffee cup out when she heard the animated voices of her daughters at the back door. Turning to see the smiling cherished faces of her two girls Miranda sighed in relief. Looking past the girls she inquired, “Where is Andréa?”

“She stayed at Lily’s. They were busy working in the tack room. We already said our goodbyes.” Caroline explained.

“Oh.” Fighting to keep her disappointment concealed, Miranda directed the girls, “Well, go get washed up. We must be leaving.”

In the moments waiting for the twins, Miranda shot a text off to Andy. “I had hoped to see you before we leave. I will see you in two weeks. In the meantime, thank you, for everything you did for my girls.”

“Ok mom, we’re ready.”

“Alright Cassidy,” Miranda took a final look around before stepping out the door. “Let’s go.”

Two weeks passed by in a dichotomous haze for Miranda. The moment the daily demands of her job so much as paused for two minutes, her heart was insistent of her attention. With her daughters home, there were no excuses for nightly conversations with Andréa. There were only nights filled with emotional dissections, reviewing the events of the final night with Andy and analyzing her physical and emotional responses.

Two weeks of introspection left Miranda exhausted, and no closer to an answer. Despite her self-awareness, Miranda had no idea what Andy could possibly think or feel. Miranda was also piqued with Andy’s refusal to acknowledge the departing text. Having had no direct communication with that vexatious woman, Miranda was seething.

By the time travel day arrived, Miranda was fit to be tied. She knew herself well enough to realize she needed a buffer with Andy or she’d explode the moment she saw her again. She ordered the caravan to be on the road by mid-morning while she delayed until nearly 3pm. Despite Caroline and Cassidy chomping at the bit to head out, Miranda kept herself distracted with “one more email response”. She contemplated opening her old bottle of valium to assuage the churning emotions within.

Once on the road, the attention needed to safely navigate through the heavy weekend traffic kept Miranda’s focus outward, her inner voice muzzled, at last. Miranda allowed Cassidy to listen to an audible novel through the car’s sound system which helped distract from any soul searching.

The Priestly family, having stopped for a meal along the way, didn’t arrive at the farm until after eight. Miranda recognized her miscalculation with the realization the 1^st wave of Runway employees had been and gone. Her intended deterrence to a one on one meeting with Andy had flown the coop.

When Andy opened the door to Cassidy’s knock, the twins rushed her, tackling her in a crushing hug.

“Oof.”

“Hey, Andy.” “We missed you.”

“Missed you too. Now can I breathe?”

“You’re talking, you’re breathing.” Caroline jibed, but loosened her hold a skosh.

“Where are the clackers?” Cassidy questioned.

“Nigel rounded ‘em all up and sent them off to bed.  They left a couple of hours ago. You guys are later than expected.” Andy said the last while eyeing Miranda.

“Mom was catching up with work. And now it’s too late to go see Lily.”

“The horses will be there tomorrow.” Andy laughed, calling out Caroline’s true intent. “But I thought you guys were going to help me wrangle the stock for the big shoot.”

“We aren’t really here to work,” Cassidy confessed.

Miranda remained in the doorway fighting an internal war. The loving rapport between Andy and the girls melted her hardened heart, but the anger constructed over the past two weeks was not so easily moved. And now Miranda was unsure how to proceed.

“Miranda,” Andy’s soft, lovely voice tugged her in. “How are you? It’s great to see you again.”

Miranda gazed at Andy, her eyes taking inventory. The woman was in jeans and a tee shirt, again. She was as stunning as ever. Chestnut hair flowing down her back, sparkling espresso eyes watching in curiosity, full lips curved in a hopeful smile. The woman’s earnest adoration could not be disguised.

“Andréa.”

Somehow, just by speaking her name, Miranda was able to convey everything; her frustration at Andy’s virtual disappearance, her refusal to reach out since then, her confusion and fears from their last night together. She effectively asked for and granted forgiveness for misunderstandings and an obstinate refusal to deal with a certain turn of events.

“So,” Andy set off brightly. “Is anyone in need of sustenance? Food, drink, drugs?”

“Really, Andréa.”

“Aspirin…” Andy grinned, falling easily back into the camaraderie of the summer months.

“I know it is not late, but I am rather exhausted. If you don’t mind, I will retire for the evening.”

“Oh, sure.” Andy was only slightly crestfallen. “Let me help you with your bags. Come on monsters. Help me get all your things.”

Andy led the girls back out to the car, leaving Miranda to regain her equilibrium. Andy was never one to carry a grudge. Her entire being effused serenity that unburdened Miranda’s troubled soul. Miranda poured herself a glass of water and wandered up to her bedroom, appreciating the soothing effect of Andy’s home on her apprehension.

“Hey.” Andy’s unassuming voice whispered into the room.

Miranda turned to face her torment.

“I think this is everything. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Miranda nodded.

“Right.” Andy hesitated in the doorway, obviously deliberating over an internal struggle. Glancing over her shoulder she allowed, “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you.”

Miranda remained mute in the seconds Andy’s eyes studied her.

Andy nodded, accepting a truce and offering rapprochement before leaving Miranda alone for the night.

Miranda wandered into the kitchen at 6:00 to find a large coffee urn already brewing gallons of coffee. A note standing next to it caught Miranda’s attention. Steamer is prepped for you. Just turn it on. Good morning, A.  Miranda checked and saw there was, indeed ‘her’ coffee mug set up, waiting for a fresh brew to fill it.

With her draught of first morning ambrosia, Miranda ventured out into the early dawn darkness. Already, the front yard was peppered with clackers and attendants scurrying about in preparation. Taking a hard left, Miranda beelined towards the horse barn.

“Good morning Miranda.” Nigel’s ebullience shattered the peace of anonymity.

“Nigel.” Miranda’s voice was warm but guarded in her greeting. “Everything ready?”

“Just waiting on the sun. Well, the sun and the wagon. Your girl Friday is on her way. Or so I’ve been told.”

“It appears we have a few clouds to contend with. We may be put off a day or two for the earlier light.”

“Ms Wright informed me she will proceed anyway. She is more than willing to create a comparative compilation for your purview. And Andy says she’s happy to set up whatever scene you can dream up, within the confines of reality.”

“Where is Helena?”

“Andy escorted her and equipment to the tree line at the hillcrest. That’s why we’re waiting. She’s on her way back with the wagon to bring the rest of us up.”

The rattling of wagon wheels emerging from behind the barns punctuated Nigel’s words. Waiting expectantly, Miranda choked on her coffee when a wagon resembling the famous Budweiser hitch, absent a few horses, rolled into view. The horses were drawn to a stop directly next to Miranda and Nigel.

Miranda glanced up in time to witness Andy’s elated grin.

Andy alit from the high seat with an easy grace that belied the difficulty of the act. On her way to the rear of the vehicle, Andy hoisted a ladder from its moorings against the side panels and then proceeded to hook it onto the tailgate to allow easy access for the passengers.

“All aboard,” Andy announced loudly, summoning models, makeup artists, and clackers.

Miranda observed a queue forming as people and supplies were assisted into the wagon. Miranda’s 1^st assistant, Emily Charlton, appeared with a tray full of paper coffee cups, passing them up to the grateful personnel.

Andy appeared directly in front of Miranda, startling her from her absorptive observations.

“I’d love to have you up there with me, but truthfully, it is a lot easier to go up and down the ladder. Are you alright with riding in the back?”

Miranda took no insult from the words. Andy’s voice had been filled with concern and consideration. And obviously, in the outfit Miranda had worn, clambering up to the driver seat was all but impossible.

A slight nod from Miranda had Andy escorting her and handing her up to Nigel, who had already ascended to the wagon bed. Feeling bereft at the absence of Andy’s warm hand, Miranda settled into an open spot on the bench and tried to focus on the day ahead.

The timing was perfect. Andy’s placement of the horse drawn hitch, the unloading of passengers, and the positioning of the models all culminated with the sun’s rays piercing the carpeting of clouds to spotlight the scene.

The camera shutters never stopped. Helena Wright, to Miranda’s astonished approval, had four assistants working in tune with the photographer. Cameras, lenses, and memory cards were swapped out with timed precision. One apprentice was taking candid shots of the crew as well as alternate views of the display.

Miranda had been set up with direct access to a laptop to get an instant preview of the day’s collection. The weather was considerate enough to allow an aggregation of lighting possibilities. Every photograph was unique in its lighting. Some had an ethereal glow to add an enchanting effect. Others had darker, more contrasting shadows to enhance the dramatic feel. Playing with the color effects, Miranda chose a few shots to display in black and white, and some others in sepia tones. She was so engrossed in her study that she missed the call to wrap up and move on to the next setup.

The next scene was to be a picnic set up in the lower hayfield. Miranda opted to walk, allowing her time to mull over the results of the last couple of hours. Andy had driven off with the wagon to deliver the people and the equipment to the proper spot, and then she was going on to the barns to swap out the hitch wagon for the surrey carriage.

Waiting on Andy’s return with the horses and carriage, Miranda reviewed the results. She had initially pulled 73 shots into a folder. Now she evaluated those more critically, paring the selection down to 40 by the time Andy appeared in the carriage.

Glancing up at the sound of horses snorting, Miranda sighed in pleasure to see her daughters riding along with Andy. From the corner of her eye she noted the photography apprentice snapping off a series, recording the advancement of the carriage. Her low icy voice left no room for argument when she whispered in the young man’s ear, “I will absolutely need that card.”

Miranda pocketed the SD card just in time to greet Cassidy. “Good morning, Bobbsey. How has your morning been?”

“Good. Caro and I sort of slept in. Do you know it’s only nine o’clock? Andy said you guys are like half done for the day already.”

“Yes. We have been fortunate with the weather. We will take a siesta after this next segment to await the afternoon light. Are you going over to Lily’s?”

“We have a lesson scheduled for 5:30. Will that be a problem?”

“Of course not. We will probably still be going at it here. We can have a late dinner this evening.”

“Great.”

“Hi, mom.”

“Good morning, Caroline. Sleep well?”

“Always. Is it ok if Cass and I hang back at the house? Maybe do some work at the barn with Doug.”

“Is Douglas here?”

“Yeah. He was moving some hay down for the horses. But he said there’s plenty of work to do that has nothing to do with falling out of a hayloft.”

Miranda had to laugh at Doug’s humor. “That is acceptable. Have fun.”

The girls scampered off and Miranda glanced around to catch a few people surreptitiously watching her. It was rare that anyone from her corporate world had an opportunity to see the Ice Queen interact with her offspring. An instant scowl was enough to slap all inquisitive eyes back to place.

“I’m so glad you decided to share them with me.”

Andy’s voice, so close to her ear, startled Miranda. Her reply was cut off by a horse’s snort and a woman’s squeal. She frowned when Andy brushed past her to attend to the issue at hand. Her scowl deepened when she realized the woman expected to portray the carriage driver was useless for the role. Striding to intervene, Miranda overheard Andy’s anger through clenched teeth.

“No. I will not be in the shot. All she has to do is sit there with the reins loose. There is no ‘driving’.”

“We were doing that, Andy, but obviously your horse knew it wasn’t you up there.”

“That’s bullshit, Nigel. Gretel just snorted. Horses do that. I can’t help it if your empty headed waif got scared.”

“That is enough.” Miranda’s cool voice squashed Andy’s temper.

“The girl is afraid to sit in the carriage alone. And your Andy here won’t go up.”

“Well, perhaps Andréa can remain here, with the horses to keep them calm.” Miranda compromised. “If your face appears in any of the photos we will crop it. Fair?”

“Fine.” Andy capitulated grumpily.

“Excellent. Now, may we proceed?”

The shoot progressed without incident. By 12:30, the entire crew had deserted the property; gone to enjoy their 3 hour break. Miranda spent the time pouring over the photos they had. Years of practice gave Miranda the ability to initially identify the artistically sufficient images rapidly. Her second run through was to pull out the technically adequate copies. These remaining possibilities would be printed for Nigel to examine. His choices would then be presented once more to Miranda for final selection.

Miranda was finished with her selections by 2:00. Exiting the privacy of her bedroom, she went in search of her daughters, curious as to how they were keeping busy. Halfway down the stairway, Miranda could hear the voices of her girls drifting out of the kitchen. As usual, she located them in the heart of the home, helping Andy put their meal together.

“Do you guys prefer broccoli or asparagus?

“Broccoli.” Was voiced in unison.

“Just as well, asparagus is a lot better in season.”

“Much like couture.” Miranda deadpanned.

“Hey, mom. Are you hungry? Andy made enough.”

“What is on the menu today?”

“Grilled salmon and veg.” Andy offered.

“Sounds marvelous. Have you a wine?”

“Have I a wine? Who do you think you’re talking to, lady? Check the chiller.”

Andy had nodded her head towards a door off the kitchen. Miranda opened it to find a pantry she had never encountered in any of her previous visits. Tucked into a line of cabinetry was a dual temperature wine cooler. Miranda chose a New Zealand red blend and offered the bottle for Andy’s approval.

“Oh yeah. That will be good.”

Settling in for a light lunch with her family, Miranda wondered how she could so easily slip back into such an affable camaraderie with Andy.

“Mom, Cass and I are going to Lily’s after lunch. Her schedule opened up and she’s already back home, so she called to tell us to head over whenever.”

“Very well, Caroline. I expect you to remain after your session to help with the horses.”

“Well, yeah, mom. We never leave horses unattended.”

The rolling of Caroline’s eyes in exasperation made Andy laugh outright.

“Just what do you find so hilarious?” Miranda pinned Andy with stormy blue eyes.

“Only the fact she is your very own ‘mini me’.”

“Hmpf” Miranda grumbled. She couldn’t argue the fact, but she didn’t much care for the observation.

“Does it help that I find it adorable?”

“Not in the least.”

The girls joined Andy in the laughter, leaving no avenue for Miranda except to haughtily consume her meal.

After helping with the cleanup, the twins escaped to their riding lesson, leaving Miranda alone with Andy. Sitting with a second glass of wine, Miranda decided to clear the air by picking up where Andy had cut her off weeks earlier.

“It was not a rejection.”

“I’m sorry?’

“That night. You interrupted me and ran away. I believe you made an erroneous assumption.”

Miranda was stunned by Andy’s ability to shut down. Andy’s posture and expression changed defensively before Miranda’s eyes. “I thought I was the only one who reacted so.”

“What are you talking about?” Andy asked with irritation.

“This.” Miranda waved a hand at Andy as a generalization. “Shutting people out. Refusing to openly listen to an explanation.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, of course. Hence the crossed arms and angry scowl.”

Andy shot a glare at Miranda but readjusted her bearing. Arms resting on the table, she struggled to give Miranda her full and undivided, open attention.

“So, what did I get wrong?”

“When I said ‘I can’t’, it was not a rejection of you or of a possibility. I was merely stating I couldn’t believe what we were doing. How undeniably amazing it felt. How amazing you felt.”

“Seriously?”

“Very. Andréa, from the moment I saw you in that pen with your sheep, there was a curious connection; visceral and powerful. It troubled me the entire summer. You make it so easy to connect with you. Your sincerity, your kindness, your love of life. I find you infectious. And alas, I have no immunity.”

“So, you’re saying I make you sick?” Andy couldn’t pass up the pun.

“Fatally.”

Miranda felt heat from Andy’s hand cover her own and spread rapidly up her arm, directly to her heart. Breaths and heartbeats naturally synced as an atmosphere of possibility enveloped them.

The front door banged open and Nigel’s voice blew the women apart.

 “So, I think that went splendidly.”

Andy was standing at the kitchen sink by the time Nigel entered the room. Miranda sat back with her wine glass in hand.

“Has everyone returned?” Her voice was steady and strong; ever the professional.

“All present and accounted for.”

“Very well. We shall revisit our first set under the afternoon light. Then we will move on to the hay barn backdrop.”

“Right. Six? Have a good lunch break?”

“Uh… yeah,” Andy answered, slightly flustered from the focus of attention and her slow emotional recovery.

“Sooo… ready to wagon up?” Nigel prodded.

“Oh, right. Yeah, on it.”

Andy scampered from the house and Nigel turned his full attention on Miranda.

“So? What did you accomplish over lunch?”

“Am I to assume with that snarky tone of yours that you are attempting to infer some illicit development in my professional arrangement with Andréa?”

“Illicit? Not at all. I was hoping you might have broken through her defenses and convinced her to join the troops on the other side of the viewfinder.”

“Nigel,” Miranda’s eyes flashed dangerously, “we have known each other far too long for you to try to pull the wool over my eyes. And I believe you are digging for something. If that something actually existed, it would be none of your business, I’m sure.”

“Of course. Not that I’m digging.”

“No. That would be far beneath you.”

Matching smirks sealed the tacit agreement to drop the subject.

“Shall we go?” Miranda pushed back for the table.

“Right behind you, boss.”

Runway had negotiated exclusive possession of the farm for the week. After two and a half days, Miranda called it wraps. Happy with the collection from five different sets and an expansive array of natural lighting, she was willing to cut the entire crew loose and rub Irv Ravitz’s nose in the financial reclamation.

Caroline and Cassidy however, were not willing to cut the week with horses short. With nothing pressing that couldn’t be managed over the internet, Miranda capitulated to the girls’ appeal and agreed to remain for the original timetable.

Miranda spent the next four days working via telecommuting. Her phone and computer were with her at all times. She reviewed the book mock up every night. Fifteen exchanges of digital files pared the final selection to six photographs for the centerpiece illustration. Numerous video cyberspace meetings rejected and accepted a multitude of visual and compositional concepts. The demands of work and the presence of her daughters prevented further examination of any mutual affection shared with Andy.

On Saturday, the twins escaped right after lunch to spend the afternoon with Lily and horses. Miranda had finally declared her workweek complete and Andy was whittling away the day filling mail orders of wool, yarns, and honey for customers.

“Would you like some help?” Miranda offered.

“Sure. You want to do the labels?”

“I think I can handle that.”

The project moved along rapidly in companionable silence. With the final carton sealed and labeled, Andy amiably suggested drinks.

Once ensconced in deck chairs that were a prudent distance apart, the protective walls again tumbled.

“Shall we list all the reasons we wouldn’t work?” Miranda began.

“It would take too long. Obviously, the conventional tried but true reasons jump out.”

“Yes. Our age difference. We are both women.”

“What? Oh…yeah, those. I was talking the long distance thing.”

Miranda laughed easily at Andy’s jest.

“You know, Miranda, the age thing is really just a double standard. If you were a male executive, you would be expected to have some young thing on your arm.”

“You are not what I would qualify as a ‘young thing’.”

“Thanks. You’re so sweet. But seriously, if it isn’t an issue between us, it isn’t an issue. Do you have a problem with the expanse of time between us?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“I would like your truth.”

“I do have some misgivings.”

“Hm. And what about the same sex matter?”

“I find that much less troublesome. It would be a mere blip on the PR radar. Other than it would be me, no one in the industry would care.”

“And for the record, where are you on the distance argument?”

“You could move.”

The bark of laughter from Andy did not lighten the darkening atmosphere.

“Why would I be the one to move?”

“I think that is fairly obvious.”

“No, please. Enlighten me.”

“I need to be in the city. I need to be connected to the fashion world. I couldn’t possibly do what I do from here.”

“Well that’s funny. I could swear you just spent a week doing ‘what you do’ specifically from here.”

“You know that is not the same thing. This was a one off. I couldn’t be proficient from here full time.

“This is one we won’t ever agree on. I could convince you that an age gap is nothing compared to the agreement of our hearts.  I could show you the benefits of sharing your life and love with a woman. But I’ll never be able to pry you from this delusion that you are irreplaceable in the world you have created. And, frankly, you will never accept my life as significant.”

“Andréa, that is simply…”

“No, Miranda. That is the truth. You have belittled farming life since you learned cities existed. This was never the lifestyle for you. For us to work, one of us would have to give up her fundamental nature.”

“You sound quite resolute.”

“We could delude ourselves with all that we feel is right between us. But, I don’t think we should waste the time. Maybe all we felt was a physical attraction. And that can end in an instant. No sense upending our lives over a thrill. As you said, it ‘felt amazing’. But, that probably isn’t a solid foundation to build from.”

“So we are over before we can begin?”

“Can you picture yourself moving back here?”

“No. But you could come to the city and write.”

“How can you offer that? You have never read anything I’ve written. For all you know, it’s all crap; I’m crap.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“But still, no. I’m not coming to the city. I can’t leave the farm, my granddad's legacy.”

There wasn’t anything else to say, so they said nothing. It was eerily silent for a thousand heartbeats.

“I suppose since there were no tears or hysterics, this was the realistic end to a potential fairy tale.”

“I guess with your experience in creating fantasies on a quarterly basis you would know best.”

“My girls.”

“What about them?”

“Another disappointment from their mother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This will be the end of their equestrian dreams.”

“Don’t be silly. Just because we won’t be a thing doesn’t mean they can’t continue with horses. They are welcome here always. You are welcome here. It’s not like I suddenly hate you and can’t stand to have you near me.”

“I have not ruined our friendship?”

“Hell no. We’ll have some time apart to nurse our wounds. And when we see each other again, we’ll be civil, cordial, and maybe downright friendly. And in the meantime, you can send the girls up by train for lessons.”

Miranda contemplated Andys’ words. Ironically the woman did have an older spirit. Nodding in final approval Miranda raised her glass, “Salud.”

“Cheers”, Andy offered back. The clink of glasses sealing the deal.

Time marched on steadily for Miranda. Over the following weeks, she saw her girls off on the Friday afternoon train and picked them up at the station on Sunday evenings. Despite their weekly separations, the family actually grew closer. Miranda managed to be home at least three nights of the workweek for dinners with her girls and refused to take calls or glance at the book until the twins had retired to bed.

November was slipping away with the demands of the winter special edition. The week of Thanksgiving had arrived, and Miranda had made no plans or preparations for the usual holiday feast. A call from her father on Sunday afternoon sealed her fate for the week.

“Miranda, I know you are over your head with work. My granddaughters have ratted you out.”

“Loyalty is dead.”

“Perhaps. But we will make it work. I will be there on Wednesday. I already have the turkey ordered and we’ll get everything else when I arrive. It’ll just be the family, so there’s no need to panic. The girls will get their holiday. Is there anyone you feel you need to invite?”

“I usually have Nigel, however, he has actually made some leeway in repairing his relationship with his family and has agreed to go home for the holiday. So, it will be just us.”

“Very well. See you in a few days. Now relax. The pressure is off.”

“Thank you, dad. I do appreciate it. Shall I send you a car?”

“Nope. Got it covered. I’ll be knocking on your door on Wednesday.”

“Use your key. I might not be home.”

“Goodnight, Miranda.”

“Night, dad.”

Miranda shouldered her front door open on Wednesday evening, relieved to be done with work for the next 36 hours. The sound of laughter emanating from the kitchen allayed the stress that had been building over the past eight weeks.

Miranda deposited her coat in the front closet and shuttled her bag into the den before heading towards the kitchen and the joyous beacon of her family. She came to an abrupt halt at the familiar sound of a particular laugh. Swallowing the emotions that threatened to choke her, she stepped into the light and made her presence known.

“Well, this looks like a disaster.”

“Mom!” Cassidy and Caroline exclaimed at the same time, and twin rushed her to crush her in an embrace.

“Happy Thanksgiving, my girl.” Joseph grinned, lifting a glass of wine.

“Hello, Miranda.” Softly spoken but painful in its power.

“Andréa.” Miranda breathed reverently.

Andy smiled demurely, stealing any latent hostility from Miranda’s soul.

Joseph sidled alongside Andy and threw an arm around her shoulder. “I dragged this one along with me ‘cause she was going to be alone on the holiday. Unacceptable.” He announced, leaving no room for argument.

“Unacceptable.” Miranda agreed. “I’m happy you came. I would have invited you myself, had I known.”

“It’s all good,” Andy murmured, relieving Miranda of any responsibility.

“Mom, you should see the turkey granddad got. I don’t think it’s going to fit in the oven.”

“Don’t you worry, squirt,” Joseph laughed. “It’ll fit just fine. Although, I hope you like leftovers.”

The tension in the air dissolved as the spirit of revelry returned. Once a glass of wine was placed into Miranda’s hand, she settled into observing the chaos of her children and their grandfather fighting over their dinner preparations.

“Mom, look,” Cassidy demanded attention. “Andy made pies.”

“Goodness. Don’t those look lovely?” Miranda murmured, eyeing three decadent looking desserts resting on the kitchen island.  “Did you bring them with you?”

“Baked them here, actually. I love your kitchen, by the way.”

“You baked them here? How long have you been here?” Miranda’s voice carried a blend of wonder and accusation.

“We were on the road for four AM.” Joseph stepped in, easily deflecting Miranda’s rigid indignation.

“Four?! You are both insane.” Miranda chuckled.

“And how many times did you leave at four or earlier this past summer?”

Miranda glared at her father in frustration. “Fine. Point taken.”

“We’re making shepherd’s pie in honor of Andy’s visit,” Caroline announced. “But we’re using sweet potatoes, cause their healthier,” she explained.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Caroline.” Miranda acknowledged, her eyes catching Andy’s.

Andy’s cheeks reddened under Miranda’s gaze, the heat forcing her to turn away from the scrutiny.

As the evening progressed, Miranda’s edginess diminished. She settled into the idea of Andy’s presence and released the apprehension that had initially created a tightness in her heart that had permeated through her entire body.  Once free of anxiety, Miranda’s body, voice, and countenance softened allowing Andy to unwind from her nerves. By the time the book was dropped in her foyer, Miranda was feeling normal.

Having readied for bed, Miranda took the mock up tome and settled in her study to finish her day in quiet solitude. Near complete with her evening’s red ink editing, Miranda heard a muffled noise from the kitchen. Curious, she crept toward the galley, expecting to catch one of her daughters stealing a late night snack.  She froze in the doorway, taken aback by the silhouette of Andréa standing in the light of the open refrigerator.

She watched silently as Andy half turned from the fridge and glanced around, obviously in search of something. Miranda considered the figure before her; a veil of chestnut tresses obscured Andy’s familiar profile while an oversized sweatshirt masked her figure, however, her long toned legs were visible beneath a loose pair of boxer shorts.

“Is there something I can help you find?” Miranda asked evenly, despite a palpable rise in temperature and a constricting throat.

“Oh!” Andy jumped. “Miranda, you surprised me!”

“No more than you me. I had assumed everyone in the house was asleep.”

“I was looking to get a glass of water.”

“Ah. Well, the filtered water is there, the smaller faucet.” Miranda waved absently towards the sink.

“Oh, right.” Andy pushed the cooler door closed and moved as directed.

“How have you been?” Miranda’s voice was a mere whisper, barely audible.

Andy shut the faucet and turned to fully face her hostess. After a moment of consideration, she replied, “I’ve been well, thanks. And you?”

“Extraordinarily busy.”

“Is it ready for print?” Andy asked, her words drifting past the glass at her lips.

“Finally,” Miranda confessed. “I believe it is the best one yet.” she preened as she stealthily advanced, her eyes locked on lips now moistened with water.

“That’s really saying something.” Andy smiled genially.

“We were so close to perfection.” Miranda continued in her soft, hypnotic voice. “So. Very. Close.”

Miranda was near enough that she released the breath carrying those last words across Andy’s cheek. Her entire demeanor was daring Andy to ask.

“What missed the mark?” Andy valiantly prompted.

Miranda’s icy blue leer bored into Andy’s espresso gaze, frozen in time for a dozen heartbeats before the final nail was expertly driven. “I do not have you.”

There was a whimper followed by a moan as lips crushed together in need. Miranda was vaguely aware of Andy’s white knuckled grip at the front of her robe as her own fingers tangled in silken hair. As so often occurred in Andy’s presence Miranda’s senses were in overdrive. She felt every inch of Andréa’s body that was pressed against her. She could smell the fading scent of Andy’s shampoo and the light perfume of face cream. She heard the blood roaring through her veins and combined labored breathing that, in the midnight silence of the house sounded like a steam engine. But most critically, she tasted the diluted flavor of minty toothpaste on Andréa’s tongue.

As their desperation eased, their kisses gentled and slowed. Andy’s grip on Miranda’s bathrobe remained but lessened, while Miranda released Andy’s hair and allowed her fingers to gently trace and then frame Andy’s face. Once their lips finally parted, their physical connection remained. Neither woman was ready to release the other.

Miranda was the first to move, sliding a hand along Andy’s arm to wrap around a tight fist, slowly forcing the grip to let go and lacing their fingers together. Miranda drew Andy’s hand to her lips and place soft kisses across the pale knuckles.

“You have me, Miranda.” Andy breathed. “You had me from the moment you refused to shake my dirty hand.”

The joyous laugh that exploded from Miranda effectively eliminated the chasm that had separated them for two months.

Miranda stepped back, taking both of Andy’s hands in her own. “Perhaps you can make up for your lapse in judgment now” she suggested, backing away and pulling Andy along.

The moon cast a glow into Miranda’s bedroom, highlighting the beautiful face on the pillow next to her. Dark eyes fluttered open as Miranda traced a finger across Andy’s cheek.

“Hey. Can’t sleep?”

“I’m surprised you can.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have your unbelievable stamina. I’m blaming the early start to my day.”

“For one so young, I expected more.”

“You sure you’re human?”

“Yes, darling, I am quite certain, and currently very glad of it.”

“What’s really going on in that head of yours?” Andy asked while idly tracing designs with her fingers across Miranda’s bared skin.

“I think we may have gotten ourselves into a situation.”

Andy’s grin helped to lessen the fear that had crept into Miranda’s heart.

“A ‘situation’? I thought we were just being ‘civil, cordial, and downright friendly’.”

Miranda pinched Andy’s arm. “Don’t be ridiculous.” she chided.

“Sorry. Do you have regrets?”

“No. Not about us.” Miranda was emphatic.

“Good.” Andy pulled herself up to sit against the headboard.  When Miranda mirrored her actions, Andy continued. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“Just now?”

“No, over the last two months filled with heartache and depression.” Andy eyed Miranda intently.

“Ah. I see. And what are your thoughts?”

“We can make this work.”

Miranda shifted to better face Andy, offering her complete attention.  “And how is that exactly? We have already determined neither of us is willing to walk away from an established life.”

“I know. But there is this crazy phenomenon everyone’s talking about called compromise.”

“Do tell.” Miranda’s protective wall of sarcasm was back in place.

“OK. So. I think we did well this past summer and we weren’t even officially in a relationship.  Don’t you think?”

Miranda just stared back.

“It might not have been perfect, but just imagine if the times you were at the farm our nights were filled with passionate sex. Could you survive a summer like that? Do you think a relationship would survive like that?”

Miranda simply lifted an eyebrow, demanding Andy continue with her argument.

“I think it could with phone calls every night. If I was in the city, with the schedule you keep and the late nights working, we probably would just have sporadic conversations during the week and any physical intimacy would be found on the weekends. And then through the winter, imagine me living here with you. Full time. Like from October ‘til June.

Miranda was still speechless.

“So, I haven’t worked everything out. I have some ideas to maybe utilize my 4H connections to get extra coverage for the lambing season. Lily and Doug both agreed they would handle it since we have the barn cams now.  But, that’s more than half the year full time togetherness. And by then, you’ll probably want to take a break from me.”

Miranda idly watched Andy start to squirm in the silence.  She finally took pity on the woman and spoke.

“So, you have this all figured out then; absent summers to create the fondness to last the rest of the year?”

Miranda watched Andy closely, a smile breaking her stoicism when Andy realized she was on board with the plan. Miranda found herself pinned under Andy’s body as the brunette’s lips roguishly attacked her.

“Your second wind, I presume?” Miranda laughed outright.

The light of early dawn was coloring in the details of Miranda’s bedroom when she next awoke. The weight and warmth of a body against her back confirmed the night was not just a dream. She silently slipped from the bed and fled to the safety of her bath and the familiarity of her morning ablutions.

Having taken the time to argue with herself in the mirror, Miranda returned to her bed, pulled the blankets over her cool body, and snuggled back into the warmth of Andy’s body.

“Crisis averted?” Andy whispered against Miranda’s back.

“Don’t judge me too harshly. While you were planning a way to make us work, I was trying to convince myself it never could. I need a little catch up time.”

Miranda pulled on Andy’s hand, wrapping a strong arm around her torso.

“Are you ok, or do you need me to sneak back to the guestroom before the girls get up?”

“To be honest, I’m conflicted.”

“Well, just let me know what you decide.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Andy pointed towards a display of frames across Miranda’s bureau and asked, “Is that me?”

The photo she was referring to was a black and white print from the Runway photoshoot.  Andy was standing with her back to the camera between her harnessed horses, gently restraining them by their bridles. Her head was turned, effectively revealing her contagious grin in profile as she laughed at something Nigel had said. Her dark hair cascading down her back and the glossy black horses flanking her created a dramatic contrast to the white shirt she had worn.

Miranda hummed in confirmation as her eyes drank the image in.

“Looks sort of old fashioned.”

“Merely a trick with printing,” Miranda explained.

“No, not just the tone, but the entire theme.”

“Mmm. It does transport the viewer, I suppose.”

“I did look good in that outfit.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Thank you for respecting my decision.  I am sorry it ruined your vision, though.”

Miranda snickered as if sharing a private joke. “I must admit, I prefer to be the sole admirer of your brief near modeling career.”

“Private showing and all.” Andy teased.

Miranda twisted, pushed Andy onto her back and leaned over her. Her eyes bored into Andy’s a moment, cranking up the heat between them. “Indeed” whispered sincerely past her lips before they met Andy’s.

“Mom, Andy’s missing!”

The bedroom door was thrown open by a distressed twelve year old.

“No, Cassidy, she is not ‘missing’.” Miranda glanced over her shoulder from her position at her closet door, directing Cassidy’s gaze towards the bed.

Cassidy froze in the middle of the room, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Andy reclining under the downy duvet in the middle of her mom’s bed.

“Hey, Cass.” Andy grinned.

“Wow.”

“Bobbsey, please close your mouth.”

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Cassidy wondered.

“What exactly do you think this is?” Miranda quizzed.

“You two are together now? Like ‘together’ together?”

“It would appear Andréa has decided to enmesh herself in our lives.”                                

“Caroline!” Cassidy bellowed as she bolted from the room.

“Secret’s out.” Andy laughed.

“You have to tell my father.”

“Tell him what? How I defiled his daughter?”

“You did what now?” Joseph’s amused voice called from the hallway.

“Damn, do all you Priestlys have super hearing?” Andy glared at Miranda accusingly.

“Just one of many powers passed through genetics.” Miranda bantered.

“Is it true?” Caroline demanded from the doorway.

“I cannot tell a lie; your mom seduced me.” Andy declared, taking over for Miranda’s teasing while the older woman was hidden in her closet.

Miranda reappeared with a grey silk robe that she tossed to Andy before ushering her daughters from the room.

“Girls, let’s give Andréa some privacy for a bit. Perhaps we should go make some coffee and French toast.”

“Yeah!”

The twins tore down the stairs to start on their special holiday treat, leaving Andy to safely return to the guestroom to don some clothes.

Epilogue; 8 months later

Miranda put the car in park and closed her eyes wearily as Caroline and Cassidy bolted from the back seat and raced to the horse barn. She startled at the rapping of knuckles on the window, her eyes alighting on the radiant smile of Andréa Sachs.

“You planning to get out of there? Or are you just going to drive back to the city?” Andy laughed before she pulled the Mercedes door open to assist Miranda from the automobile.

“I do hope you appreciate what I sacrifice for this relationship,” Miranda muttered grumpily as Andy’s arms slipped around her waist in a welcoming embrace.

“You know I do. And you know I try my best to make it worth your efforts.” Andy whispered through lips that were burning a path along Miranda’s jaw from her cheek to her lips.

Miranda slid her arms around Andy’s shoulders and returned the embrace, allowing their lips to languidly get reacquainted. Releasing a deep sigh of fatigue, Miranda leaned heavily into Andy’s strength.

“Hot bath, glass of wine, and a comfortable bed are awaiting you, my love.”

“So efficient. I know you won’t model for me, but perhaps I can convince you to come to Runway as my personal assistant?” Miranda hoped.

“Never mix personal and professional. It can lead to disaster.”

“Whatever. Please lead the way.”

Miranda emerged from her bath to discover that Andy had hauled the luggage in from the car. She decided to ignore the stack of Louis Vuitton cases and crawled under the lightweight duvet folded across the bed.  

The sound of laughter drifting in through the open window pulled Miranda from her slumber. She took the time to dress, perform a quick light touchup with her makeup, and properly unpack her things. She finally ventured out to find her family gathered on the back porch, enjoying “mocktails” and in the midst of catching up from a two week separation.

“Yeah, so Dad has decided to marry Ginny.”

“You don’t sound too annoyed.” Andy chuckled.

“Well, like Cass said, it’s about time. He’s been the bachelor for way too long. Plus, she’s preggo, so…”

“Caro,” Cassidy kicked her sister, “you weren’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh come on. It’s stupid to try to keep it a secret. And who really cares?”

“I would think you would care, Caroline.”

Miranda’s cool voice brought Caroline up short. Caught in a trap of her own making, she turned defensive.

“Why should I? Not my family.”

“Except that it is. He is your father. Ginny will be your stepmother. And the child will be your half sibling. So, yes, I expect you will care.”

“Whatever.”

“Hmm. So surly for one so young.” Miranda had joined Andy, leaning against the porch railing, and left a quick kiss on the younger woman’s cheek before turning her attention back to her daughters.

“It’s the age,” Andy murmured as she slipped her arm around Miranda’s waist.

“I fear you are correct.”

“Mom, aren’t you upset about this?”

“Why would I be, Cassidy? I have no say in what your father does. He is a free adult and he may do whatever he likes.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“No, Bobbsey, I am not upset in the least. If pressed, I would have to say I am actually happy for him.”

“Cass, mom doesn’t need to be worried about dad ‘cause she has Andy.”

“Caro, your mom doesn’t have to worry about what your dad does because she is her own woman. She stands on her own two feet and she doesn’t belong to anyone. Her choice to be with me is just that, a choice. It isn’t a competition with your dad over who has what.”

“That is true Bobbsey.” Miranda agreed with Andy’s explanation. “Andréa and I are together because we want to be. Nothing beyond our little family has any bearing on our relationship. Notwithstanding, the timing may be poor, but, Andréa,” Miranda turned to fully face Andy as she tugged a small item from her pocket. She presented the object grasped gingerly in her fingers. “Will you do me the honor of hitching yourself to my wagon?”

Both of the girls let out squeals of delight and fought over each other to get a better view.

Miranda tried to wait patiently but could not resist a nervous jibe, “Darling, please close your mouth. Your imitation of a carp is eerily accurate.”

Large espresso eyes were wrenched away from the ring to lock onto Miranda’s icy blues. “You…what?”

Andy’s confusion inversely affected Miranda’s anxiety. Smiling brightly, she tried again.

“My dearest Andréa, I am asking you to marry me, to share the rest of my life with me, and to help me raise these two incorrigible urchins.”

Andy’s eyes skittered quickly to each of the girls, taking in brightly grinning, hopeful faces. Her attention returned to Miranda who was witness to a wonderful visual transition.  Like the sun emerging from behind a cloud, Andy’s face lit up with a euphoric glow. From the elated grin to her bright eyes glistening with unshed joyful tears, Andy’s visage was an image of unadulterated jubilance.

A small nod set off a chain reaction of laughing sobs and tears as Andy crushed Miranda in a fierce embrace. The twins screamed and jumped into the mix, wrapping the women in a hug sandwich.

“Yes, god yes, I will.” Andy croaked against Miranda’s neck. “I will marry you, Miranda. You and the girls. Forever.”

It very well may have been an hour by the time Andy gathered herself together. With a deep, shaky breath, she finally released Miranda and allowed some airspace between them. Miranda raised her hand to again show Andy the ring.

Andy took a step back granting Miranda more space to maneuver and offered her hand.

Miranda slid the ring over the correct digit and followed it with a kiss to Andy’s knuckles to seal the deal. She watched with amusement as Andy studied the diamond band and then turned to excitedly display it for the girls to examine.

“Why didn’t you get her a solitaire diamond?” Caroline enquired.

“A solitaire would not have been practical with the physical labor Andréa does every day. Obviously, the twisted vine was the acceptable choice.”

“It’s really pretty. I like it better than a huge outrageous rock.” Cassidy opined.

“I think it’s perfect.” Andy declared. “Just like your mom.”

“Oh, please.” Miranda demurred.

Miranda smiled into the kiss Andy reverently bestowed. The smile turned to a guffaw when Caroline intoned, “Can we have hamburgers tonight?”