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They started appearing slowly, discreetly, almost stealthily as if delivered by invisible hands during the middle of the night. The Christmas decorations, that is. At first Andy didn’t notice, focused as she was only not being carried away by the endless stream of tasks and challenges that flowed from Miranda. But in hindsight the warmth that gently radiated from hidden corners and desks became utterly unavoidable.
One morning Andy, torn between sleep deprivation and curiosity, went to the office much earlier than usual. The deserted halls seemed almost eerily quiet. Andy thought it rather comforting, compared to the chaotic hustle and bustle of their working hours. Enjoying the silence before the storm, Andy strolled along each corridor, peaking into every office nook. And suddenly, now that she had seen one - Emily’s stylishly decorated, creme coloured mug - she could not help but see all of it. Small festive decorations on every desk. A mug here, a string of pearly snowflakes there, a festive scarf left draped on the back of a chair. Nothing offensive, nothing that screamed “CHRISTMAS” loudly and garishly. Only gentle reminders wrapped in muted colours and mandatory elegance that quietly whispered that something magical was happening.
Andy stepped around the corner of the last corridor which led back to the outer office only to nearly collide with Emily. Emily nearly shrieked from fright and clutched the small poinsettia she was carrying close to her chest, almost as she were afraid Andy would snatch it and run with it.
“Andrea! Oh for heaven’s sake!” Emily huffed, clearly scandalized by her own reaction but very much intent on blaming it on Andy.
“Morning Em…” Andy, unamused by the theatrics but her curiosity piqued nonetheless. “That’s a lovely flower you got there.” She commented as she watched Emily gingerly set it down next to the printer. Unobtrusive in placement, just like all the other discreetly placed festive items, but Emily made sure she’d at least see it every time she stepped to the printer.
“Yes, well. You weren’t supposed to see it.” Emily said dryly as if the very fact that Andy commented was offensive.
“What do you mean? It’s right there. I’d have seen it at some point.” Andy asked, somewhat confused.
“Don’t be daft, Andrea. You weren’t supposed to see me bringing it in.” Emily responded with a dramatic eye roll.
“Huh? Why not?” Andy asked, more confused by the minute. Emily’s begrudging answers only thickened the fog rather than dissipate it.
“Plausible deniability.” Emily said dryly and shot Andy a look that clearly screamed ‘you should know this, really.’
“Are you telling me someone has banned Christmas at Runway and everyone’s conspiring to rebel against it?” Andy asked, amused.
If looks could kill, Andy would have felt her very soul shrivel up and wither under the scathing stare she received in response. But Andy stood her ground. That much she’d learned by now. When Emily wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown from some unforeseen crisis she was more willing to divulge non-work related information. Provided that they were at least somewhat adjacent to Runway and that Andy withstood her dismissive glare.
And there it was, Emily’s signature huff of annoyance. “Really, Andrea, I don’t know how you’re managing to become rather competent in your job if you can’t piece this much together.” Emily said. “Of course no one has forbidden Christmas. But Miranda would have our hides delivered to some upstart designer for a new line of skirts if she thought even for a moment that we were decorating on company time.”
‘Sure, Em. You always have to start with an insult why don’t you’ Andy thought with annoyance as she contemplated the actual answer Emily finally delivered. Almost as Andy had asked Emily to give up her firstborn.
“So… is it coordinated in any way? I’d love to participate.” Andy offered rather than comment on the insult.
“No, it’s not coordinated. We just do it.” Emily said begrudgingly as she sat down at her desk and booted her computer. “You can join if you want, but you must not be seen doing any of it while Miranda is in the office. Or while she might return during the day. The changes must happen invisibly.” Emily said, her tone severe.
“Sure, Em.” Andy said casually as she stepped over to the coat rack. The fact that Emily arrived was the best indication that Miranda was expected shortly. She had a coffee run to take care of.
The next day, Andy followed the pattern she’d seen from her colleagues. She brought in a mug she’d picked up at ABC Carpet & Home while she was waiting on a scarf order. Granted, she’d violated the number one rule and set the mug on her desk midday, but she was certain it would not be noticed. Nor was it.
The day after, she had her nails done in muted cream tones with barely there star-shaped patterns scattered sparingly. That too, had passed the test. Nigel had noticed, of course, when she appeared in the Closet immediately after Miranda vacated the premises to collect her outfit for the next day. He’d grabbed her hand, inspected her nails but said nothing. The only reaction resembling acknowledgment was the small twitch of his lips. Not followed by an eye roll. Andy took the win.
As the second week of December rolled in, Andy noticed another pattern. Or rather noticed the absence of it. Miranda’s office was conspicuously barren of any festive decoration. She didn’t expect Miranda herself to do any decorating of course. But at the very least she’d have expected Emily to place something small and unobtrusive on a shelf. Or something.
“Are you mad?” Emily asked, clearly scandalized when Andy asked her about it. “We do not, under any circumstance, alter Miranda’s office. I don’t think anyone would dare…”
Andy was rather crestfallen to hear that Miranda was de facto excluded from the slow spread of festive atmosphere. Especially because she was certain Miranda did not disapprove. A week ago? A week ago Andy had blindly bought into the whole secrecy act. But this week had robbed her of the illusion. One could easily say Miranda wouldn’t bother to notice unobtrusive personal items on desks. But this week the communal areas started blooming festively. A small wreath on the kitchenette door, lovely deep-green runner made of fine velvet that covered the length of the front desk area.
Andy herself had braved a personal touch and added something she was certain no one else had ever done: she placed a stylish glass bowl at the front desk filled with peppermints and chocolates. On the first day, it remained untouched, but by Wednesday Andy was certain people had started indulging. It made her smile happily.
Only for that smile to droop into a sad frown when she realized no one dared to include Miranda. Sure enough, Andy had more insight than most. None of them had seen her eyes puffy and red from crying in her lonely hotel room. And Andy would bite her tongue off before she said a word of it. It was a miracle Miranda had even allowed her to stay after the stunt she pulled in Paris… she had already betrayed her professionally but was gracefully forgiven. She would not do so privately as well.
But despite the small advantage she had over the others, Andy was annoyed. At the very least Emily should have seen the signs. She’d been delivering Miranda’s dry cleaning and the book to her house. She was certain Miranda did not start decorating the house this year. Surly Emily had seen at least two seasons where Miranda’s home gradually bloomed and warmed with the festive spirit. Granted, they were all designer decorations. A single snow globe that perched on a side table more than likely cost more than Andy’s extensive collection of decorations scavenged from various mall kiosks. But it was there.
Upon hearing Emily’s neurotic response to the idea of including Miranda… Andy had formed a plan. To hell with it all, if she had survived the Harry Potter incident and the Paris meltdown, she was going to risk including Miranda. The woman deserved it.
Decision made, that night when Andy delivered the book, she promised herself that if the chance presented itself, she would take a minute or two to subtly survey Miranda’s foyer and what little she could see beyond it.
She knew the foyer well enough by now that the change hit her before she could place it. The door closed behind her and the space felt… quieter, somehow. Warmer. The hardwood floor, which was usually all polished reflection and sharp echo, was partly covered by a long, dark green runner she was pretty sure hadn’t been there before. It softened the sound of her steps. As if on cue, Andy froze, knowing that she wouldn’t be heard upstairs, and allowed herself to take it all in. The next thing she noticed was the greenery along the left wall, tucked between the three doors. Real greenery, not fake. It looked expensive in that way that didn’t try to look like anything at all. The faint smell of pine and eucalyptus wafted through the air.
The spiral staircase on the right had changed too. Not much. Just a thin line of evergreen following the curve downward, neat and controlled, like it had been measured. Andy’s brain supplied the word pretty before she could stop it, which felt vaguely inappropriate. Miranda didn’t do pretty. But it was. Just… quietly. Like someone had taken the edge off the house without dulling it.
She could see into the sitting area beyond the foyer, though only in slices. The dark wood paneling, the blue couch she remembered from the one time she’d been allowed in there, a throw folded over the arm like it had been placed on purpose instead of forgotten. The light in that room looked lower, softer. It made the blue look darker, richer, like it belonged there instead of being a color choice someone had argued about. And she was certain that there had been argument aplenty. Her mind steered to Stephen and the cowardly he abandoned Miranda smack dab in the middle of her most important week. ‘Just like I had…’ Andy thought with a healthy helping of guilt. ‘But at least I had the guts to return and apologize…’
The kitchen beyond was still blindingly white and terrifyingly clean, which was reassuring in its own way. Some things did, in fact, not change. But even there, something was off. A bowl of fruit sat on the counter—actual fruit, not decorative. Oranges and possibly green apples if Andy’s vision didn’t betray her, with deep red pomegranates mixed in. A small evergreen arrangement stood near the window, plain and undecorated. Andy shifted the book in her hands and had a strange, sudden thought: this wasn’t Miranda decorating for Christmas the way stores did. This was Miranda making the house ready. And Andy wasn’t sure why that felt more intimate. But it did.
Efficient as ever, Andy’s mind quickly cataloged what she’d seen and left as quietly as she had come, her mind churning out ideas she dismissed one by one. Only the perfect idea would do.
Friday evening of the second week had dragged its feet in, or so Andy felt. She couldn’t wait for it. She had decided to initiate operation Miranda’s inclusion after everyone had vacated the office for the weekend.
Deciding what to sneak into Miranda’s office took considerable effort. Idea after idea had to be discarded. Andy’s first naive idea was a mug. But that was entirely impermissible. Miranda never used mugs. She always ordered Starbucks. And she had already decided that if she lived after this small intrusion of hers, that she would bring Miranda’s lattes in festive Starbucks cups. So no, a mug was entirely out of the question.
Her next idea had been a small wreath. But no. That was too festive and far too obtrusive. Miranda’s glass door was always open and it would make her office look like she was sharing with Santa Claus. She could practically hear Miranda glaring at it.
She considers a candle, something expensive and subtly scented. That lasts about two seconds. Candles require lighting. Lighting requires intention. Intention requires explanation. And Andy was not prepared to explain anything. Least of all why she was so hellbent on including Miranda in a tradition she had seemingly been fine being excluded from. That, she wasn’t even willing to truly explain to herself. She merely dismissed it wanting the best for Miranda.
Then she considered switching out an existing item. A pen cup, a paper tray maybe, for a slightly warmer version. That idea died the moment it formed. That was not decorating. That was editing Miranda’s system. Suicide. Undiluted suicide of going upstairs and overhearing an argument proportions. And she was not prepared to be sent on another fools errand as punishment. ‘God knows what she’d come up with next…’ Andy thought wryly.
At last, inspiration strikes her when she walks into Miranda’s office with her morning coffee on Thursday. There it by the window. A heavy ceramic vase on the window sill. Andy never spared it too much thought. It had always been there. Always empty. And the idea presented itself. Thursday evening she had bought a branch of silver fir. She would leave it on her kitchen table for the night to see if it sheds. Because that would certainly be a no-go. And come Friday evening, she would place it in that vase and see what happened.
The weekend had passed in a blur. Andy had to decorate her entire flat on her own. She and Nate had not made it long distance. They had maybe tried for a month before they both started texting less. Then there was the first missed weekend mid-October. The next in November. And by the time December rolled in, they had both acknowledged that it wasn’t working anymore.
Andy wouldn’t say she had put the small branch of evergreen entirely from her mind. No, far from it. But she kept busy enough to not fret over the consequences. That is, until she entered the office Monday morning where an incredulous Emily once again manhandled her into the kitchen with such vigor she nearly spilled Miranda’s latte.
“Did you do it??” Emily nearly shrieked.
“Huh?” Andy asked, bewildered for a moment.
“Don’t play dumb Andrea! I saw that branch in the vase! Only you would dare do something so stupid.” Emily stared angrily.
“That’s enough of your insults for the year Em.” Andy bristled. She had had enough of Emily’s drama. “Yes. I put it there. You can wash your hands clean of it.” Andy said definitively and started to walk out of the kitchen only for a hand to grab her forearm.
“Andrea. I am going to get rid of that thing before Miranda sees it. You can’t do this.” Emily threatened as she brushed past Andy. She walked briskly around Andy’s desk with Andy quick at her heel, protesting earnestly when the unthinkable happened.
Miranda walked in. Emily froze. Andy forgot how to breathe. They both watched Miranda strut into her office with her usual confidence only to halt abruptly. Clearly she had immediately spotted the intrusion.
Emily stared daggers at Andy, her eyes screaming what she couldn’t voice: look what you’ve done.
And then Miranda moved. Not towards the vase. Towards her desk. “Andrea.” She said quietly.
Andy’s feet moved before her mind could register a single thought. Starbucks in hand, she stepped through the threshold of Miranda’s office, her eyes firmly glued on the woman. She didn’t even dare blink.
Miranda didn’t say a word. She merely extended a hand, indicating that she wanted her coffee. Eyes locked on Andy, her expression betraying nothing. When Andy handed her the cup, the moment was broken. Not by a dismissal. Not by a ridiculous demand. But by a small smile only Andy could see playing on Miranda’s lips. It was the same small, controlled smile she had received in Paris. When Miranda expressed a connection between them. When Miranda praised her. With words. Just moments before Miranda stepped into the swarm of paparazzi. Moments before Andy left Miranda without an assistant.
And before Andy could take a breath to say something the charged moment was once again broken. This time by a list of demands. Not punishing ones. Just the usual gruelling workday demands. It was not a dismissal. It was back to business. Which meant Andy still had a job. For the time being.
As efficient Andy had become at reading Miranda and anticipating her needs, Miranda still managed to surprise her.
The very next morning, as Andy walked in with Miranda’s coffee order, she just caught the tail end of motion from the corner of her eye. Miranda stood by the vase housing her well-meaning intrusion into her world. Only now, there were small red ornaments on it. She couldn’t quite make out what they were from a distance but she was certain she had just caught Miranda putting decorations on her branch.
Miranda acknowledged her presence when their eyes met but without comment she walked back to her chair and reached out for her coffee. And once again, there was that smile. The smile she believed she only received because she was standing close enough to her desk that she was blocking the view.
“Are you suicidal or something?” Emily hissed sometime midday.
“What are you talking about this time?” Andy asked as she tore her eyes from the screen. She had been deep in thought when Emily interrupted her.
“That red thing, whatever it is. On the twig.” Emily whispered harshly.
‘Twig. Screw you too Em…’ Andy thought dryly before blinding Emily with a smug smile.
“No, Em. That was actually Miranda. I saw her this morning.”
The reaction alone was well worth the trouble. Emily spluttered, eyes rounded in shock. And she left Andy’s desk without a word. Or any further words throughout the day.
Later that evening, Andy couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore. As she waited around for the book, she crept into Miranda’s office to inspect ‘the red things’.
Mistletoe. Andy was shocked to see that Miranda Priestly had gone and stuck a small bunch of mistletoe between two offshoots of the branch. She desperately tried not to read too much into it. But it wasn’t easy. Without something, anything to occupy her mind as she waited for the book to be finalized, Andy was stuck in a loop, endlessly wondering if the damn mistletoe was an invitation. Endlessly analyzing if she wanted it to be an invitation. And no matter how hard she tried to explain it away, she always came to the conclusion that yes. She wanted it to be an invitation.
“Andrea.” Came the familiar lilt of Miranda’s voice as soon as she closed the front door behind herself.
‘Oh, boy.’ Andy thought as she struggled to swallow the lump in her thought. She had brushed her teeth furiously and ate a few peppermint candies on the way. But nothing prepared her mentally for the challenge of figuring out Miranda’s intentions. She would just have to go with the flow.
To Andy’s surprise, once she put the dry cleaning in the correct closet, she spotted Miranda standing in the kitchen doorway. Drawn like a moth to a flame, Andy found her legs moving forward without thinking of it.
“Leave the book on the table.” Miranda instructed her as she walked into the sitting room, then turned into the kitchen, indicating that Andy should follow her.
The book left forgotten, Andy’s heart hammered wildly in her chest as she stepped into the kitchen which, had, since her secret recon a few days ago, sprouted more festive motifs. The small evergreen pot plant on the window sill now had silver bulbs sprinkled between its branches. And the walls sported garlands and wreaths in casually elegant arrangements.
And Miranda…had two glasses of wine in her hands. “Sit with me.” Miranda said. It was almost gentle. It wasn’t a demand. It was an invitation. Having forgotten that she can speak, Andy could only nod. Miranda smiled at her encouragingly as she took a seat by the counter. And sat next to her.
“Thank you.” Miranda said uncharacteristically. It was the second time she had thanked Andy for anything. The first time had been when she saved her from the consequences of Stephen’s drunken stupor at the Benefit. Almost a lifetime ago, it seemed.
“Um.” Andy managed to force the sound of confusion through her uncooperative vocal chords.
“For including me in the festive arrangements.” Miranda clarified. Another thing she generally did not do. Andy was more and more confused by the minute.
“Ah.” Andy squeaked, clearing her throat. “It’s nothing. It’s just… I think everyone else was terrified of touching anything in your office…and I… I’d seen your home become more and more festive… I thought you’d appreciate… I mean…” Andy babbled.
“And so I do.” Miranda said, her tone laced with humor. “Do keep up, Andrea.” Andy could swear, Miranda was teasing her.
“Have you looked at my addition?” She asked, her tone suddenly becoming guarded.
“Um. Yes. Mistletoe.” Andy croaked and quickly took a sip of her wine to fortify her nerves. “My god, this is good.” She couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as the taste hit her tongue.
“I’m glad you’re appreciative.” Miranda said with an indulgent smile. “Although I am more interested in your thoughts on my choice of decoration for your thoughtful invitation.”
“Uhm. Well… knowing the tradition attached to it… I was wondering if you were returning the favor and extending an invitation of your own.” Andy said boldly. Where she got the courage from, she couldn’t say. Most likely the exquisite win. And the fact that she was having said wine with Miranda in her kitchen. With a smiling Miranda in her kitchen, whose eyes appeared to be sparkling. Whether from mirth of excitement, she didn’t dare contemplate on just yet. She needed more clues.
“Wouldn’t that be wildly inappropriate?” Miranda asked, her lips twisting into a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Andy could only label that look as smug. Miranda was playing with her.
“Well…considering I’m your employee… I guess it would?” Andy said cautiously.
“Indeed.” Miranda said thoughtfully. Then, as if conjured by magic, but more likely overlooked by Andy in her current state, Miranda pushed a white envelope across the counter top.
“I am more than capable of making that obstacle go away, should you wish.” Miranda said quietly as she leaned back in her chair.
It took Andy a moment to process Miranda’s words. She brows knitted in confusion. “Are you…firing me?”
Miranda’s eyes rounded in surprise. The third uncharacteristic act in a row. “Certainly not. I am offering you an out. Should you wish to leave Runway because you are interested…or because you are offended. The envelope contains a reference. Any publication you wish, Andrea, at the tip of your fingers.” Miranda said quietly.
Andy could see Miranda waited with baited breath. She had learned to read Miranda well. The subtle way the muscles around her lips tensed. The way she tried to sit casually but her motionless posture gave her away.
“I’m not offended.” Andy whispered, her eyes never leaving Miranda’s.
Upon hearing Andy’s answer, Miranda leaned forward again, just slightly. Waiting. She took a sip of her wine, as if to stall for time. Andy mirrored her actions.
Swallowing heavily, Andy decided to take a leap of faith. “I am interested.” She whispered barely audibly, her hand blindly reaching for the envelope.
Miranda broke eye contact for the briefest of seconds to glance upwards. Andy followed suit. And there it was, the confirmation that she wasn’t misunderstanding this. Another sprig of mistletoe strategically placed inside the lampshade just above their heads.
Andy smiled ruefully. She couldn’t believe this woman. She also couldn’t believe this was happening. She was about to kiss Miranda Priestly. “Well. I have always been a fan of Christmas traditions.” Andy said, as she leaned in.
“As have I” Miranda whispered as she mirrored Andrea’s motion pace by pace. Their breaths mingled, lips close enough Andy could feel the heat radiating off of Miranda.
Knowing she would have to close the distance, Andy slowly closed her eyes and allowed attraction to pull her close and gently press her lips against Miranda’s. It was gentle at first, a mere pressure of skin against skin. Andy stayed in the moment, savoring the softness of Miranda’s lips.
Miranda, however, seemed suddenly bolder, her characteristic patience with glacial paces showing. She broke the contact only to come back for more, her lips melding against Andy’s more firmly, sucking Andy’s bottom lip between hers, turning the chaste kiss wet, passionate. Andy lost herself in the kiss, in Miranda’s fervor happily, thoughts of jobs and references and traditions effortlessly fading from her mind.