When Andy Sachs switched on her cell phone and listened to a succession of early morning voice mails,

- - "Six, you know we were dreaming about cocktails in the Caribbean, now might be a good time! If you're still here Wednesday, drinks, usual place, and bring Jacob he's delicious."

- - "Are you completely stupid? Serena wants to know what on earth you were thinking. Personally I don't care, but I don't suppose you could let Miranda kill you today could you? We're going to print this week and I could really do with her in a good mood."

- - "Andy, this is just an early midlife crisis right? I have to go to the gallery, Doug is coming over with bagels. I'll see you later, don't worry, you'll get through this."

She had no idea what was going on but knew it must be bad.

When she heard Greg's, "what the hell Sachs, you're not supposed to be pushing up the sales of other newspapers! Next time give us the exclusive," she was only marginally more enlightened and not entirely sure he was joking.

Unfortunately, the knock on her door that followed soon afterwards, did not leave her in a state of blessed oblivion for long.

As a journalist Andy had always resented the saying, "a picture tells a thousand words." Partly, this was because finely crafted words, and the use of them to make people think, was her living. Mainly it was because she knew that a picture, or in this instance a photo, was a mere moment out of time. That in reality it only gave a glimpse of what was actually going on, and that it could be more dangerous, when taken out of context, than any number of words. People tended to accept photos and the spin put on them without question. Like the ones she was staring at now. In the Sunday edition of the New York Post. On Page Six.

Her cell rang. She looked at the name and sighing connected the call, "Hey."

"Hey" said the subdued voice on the other end, then nervously added "um, have you seen —?"

"Yeah," Andy interrupted.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Andy said again, then turning away from Doug, who had brought the not so glad tidings, she moved into the bedroom and shut the door firmly, "have you got someone there with you?"

"Caroline. You were right. I told her yesterday when I got back, I told her everything. Oh Andy, Mum is going to be furious, what are we going to do?"

"You are not going to panic Cassidy" Andy replied, "Your mother loves you beyond measure, you know that."

"We haven't heard from her yet, do you think there's a chance she hasn't seen them?"

Andy thought that the chance that Miranda Priestly, of all people, had not seen those photos, was slightly less than the chances of Donald Trump winning the next presidential election, after both main candidates had withdrawn and endorsed him as the better man. She was interrupted however, before she could attempt to reassure the girl.

"Um" Doug peered around the door, "sorry Andy, but you've got another visitor."

She was about to ask who it was, when a voice she had only heard in her head for the last six years, said, "and you know how much being kept waiting, thrills me, Andréa."

Her eyes bugged out, and hearing a panicked voice in her ear, she nodded and waited until Doug withdrew before she kicked the door shut again, Miranda be damned. "Calm down" she instructed, "the fact that she's here shows how much she cares about you Cassidy, don't worry, I will handle your mother." Then thinking back to Emily's request she swallowed hard, lost in her own thoughts until she heard the words "run out of town" in her ear and realized Cassidy was still speaking, "put your sister on a minute," she interrupted.

"Hey Andy" a voice just as subdued as her sister's answered.

"Caroline, listen, you can probably tell who just arrived. Please try to convince Cass that everything is going to be alright. I have no intention of telling your mother anything. I am merely going to reassure her that those photos are not what they look like. It will be OK, I promise, and either of you can call me anytime you need to, OK?"

"OK. Thanks Andy. Oh hang on, Cassidy wants to speak to you again."

There was the muffled noise of a cell phone being passed from hand to hand again and then Cassidy said, "I'm sorry Andy, I never meant for any of this to happen!"

"I know you didn't kiddo, don't worry, everything will be fine" she replied, with more confidence than she felt, wondering vaguely why the door was still on it's hinges, and thinking Doug must be more of a knight in shining armor than she'd realized. "OK, now I've really got to go talk to your mother, it'll be OK, OK? I'll call you when I can, in the meantime, get something to eat, get some fresh air, read a book, watch a movie, just please, enjoy your day and try not to worry."

Hanging up she let out a long sigh, then looked at the door and swallowed hard for a second time, knowing it could not be put off any longer.

"Miranda" she said, trying to sound confident as she walked back into the main room, "how nice to see you," she looked around, "where's Doug?"

"If you mean the person who let me in, he thought of other places he needed to be," the woman perched on the edge of the couch said tightly.

"I see" Andy replied, then bit the bullet, "and why are you here and not at Barnard, reassuring Cassidy that you love her, and that everything will be fine?"

Miranda removed her sunglasses, and Andy was shocked to realize she had forgotten just how piercing those eyes could be. "Do not presume to know what is best for my daughter, Andréa!"

"I don't presume" she said, walking to the table and taking out an onion bagel from the bag that Doug had thoughtfully left, hoping Miranda could not see the slight tremor in her hand. "When in doubt, I ask. It's my job after all."

"Ah yes" came the hissed reply, "your job." Andy's fingers tightened around the knife she had just picked up, momentarily imagining other uses for it as she heard the disdain, before severing her breakfast in two with barely a thought and putting it in the toaster, "and why do you think photos of a low rent reporter from a two-bit newspaper, are gracing the rag that produces Page Six, hmm?"

Andy knew that given the perceived circumstances she had no right to take offense, so she put the coffee on the stove and shifted to the fridge, took out the milk and then rummaged around in the take out cartons for the cream cheese, trying to remain calm. "I would imagine" she began when she finally found it, "it's because this particular low rent reporter, is friends with your daughters." She closed the door, then popped the bagel and began spreading the cheese, her back resolutely to her guest.

"Friends?" the word was spit out and Andy was forcefully reminded that almost losing her own friends, while she was at Runway, was the thing she was most ashamed of in life. Then she wondered if Miranda had any. Andy turned towards the woman, and raising the bagel, took a bite to give her mouth something else to do, while she tried to calm her mind by trying to work out the logistics of maintaining such a rigid posture, on her dilapidated couch. She still hadn't managed it by the time she had finished her mouthful, nor had she noticeably calmed down. "I realize that the word may be an alien concept to you Miranda, but yes, I am friends with both of your daughters."

Miranda pursed her lips at the crass taunt, but all she said was, "and that was evidence of your — your friendship was it? Flaunting my daughter in front of —"

"Now wait just a minute! I was not, I didn't know — dammit, you of all people know how they twist things! There is not now, and never has been, anything going on between me and Cassidy! Hell, she's almost young enough to be my daughter!"

She was far too worked up to see the woman flinch at this statement, she did however hear the hissed, "well she isn't is she, she's mine, and now thanks to your irresponsible behavior, the whole world is sitting back gloating and waiting for my reaction!"

Andy was about to say that contrary to Miranda's belief, not everything was about her, when she remembered that the paper had captioned the accompanying article, 'Dragon Slayer woos the Whelp?'; had obviously taken great delight, in dragging up parts of the article they had done of her walking out in Paris, where she had been given said title, and the last few lines had been a hair's breadth from libelous, in it's assertion that her daughter might have gone rogue because of Miranda's mothering skills. Finishing her bagel instead, Andy tried again to put herself in the other woman's place. "I know how much you hate the girls being in the spotlight in this way Miranda," she said trying to placate her, "and I'm sorry that they've managed to spin something so sordid from something so innocent, but truly, Cassidy is as mortified as you or I that this has happened. I promised her we'd sort it out, so I'm going to need you to work with me here, not against me, OK?"

"And when did you promise my daughter this?"

"Just now, that was who I was talking to when you arrived."

"You called her?"

"No, she called me."

"She called you?"

Andy sighed, wondering where the normally astute woman she had worked for had suddenly disappeared to, "yes Miranda."

"She called you, not me?"

This time Andy heard the vaguely lost tone in her voice, and said gently, "Miranda, she's scared. Scared that people are going to judge her based on two totally out of context photographs, but mainly, she's scared that she's let you down, that you'll think less of her because of it. That's why I asked why you weren't at Barnard."

"Of course I'd not think less of her, and no-one else's opinion matters. Certainly not anyone who reads that rag!" Miranda replied venomously.

"Well, good" Andy said, then picked up her cell and started dialing, walking over to Miranda as she did so, "then will you please tell her that, because I have a feeling that despite my advice to go enjoy their day, there are two very worried girls waiting for this call."

"Caroline too?"

"They've never been good at keeping things from each other, as I'm sure you know. Besides, I did tell you, I really am friends with both of them."

"How long?"

"Sorry?"

"How long have you and they been friends?"

"Oh, um —" then the phone connected, "Hey kiddo, your mom wants to speak to you." She handed over the phone and then went back to the stove and busied herself heating milk.

"Darling?" Miranda said tentatively, 'bobbsie' not having been appreciated for a few years now. "Yes Andréa is fine — of course I'm not going to — no I'm not going to ruin her either — Cassidy will you please stop worrying about Andréa!" Andy's mouth twitched as she clamped her lips together in an attempt not to laugh out loud. "No, no, I will talk to her and we will sort it all out. Now you mustn't worry — of course I still love you. Nothing you could do, could stop me doing that — now you're being ridiculous — well anyone silly enough to believe them, will think you both have extremely good taste. Both you and Caroline have turned into very attractive young ladies — yes I think Andréa is beautiful too — Cassidy, are you, I mean, not Andréa obviously, but do you have something to tell me? — You don't? Well I hope you both know that you can tell me anything, mummy will always listen — Cassidy, I always try to make time for the two of you, you know that — yes well sometimes I am very busy but — Cassidy you know —"

Not liking the way this was going, Andy removed the phone from Miranda's hand, swiftly replacing it with a mug of coffee instead. Placing it against her ear, she listened for a moment before saying "Cassidy Ann Priestly, that is no way to speak to your mother — I don't care — rubbish. You know very well that she cares about the two of you more than anyone and anything else in this world — well she has a very important job that takes up a lot of her time. Remember when Liz Neumark came to speak to your class? It's not easy being head of any company, and that's small fry compared to the size of Elias-Clarke. Just think how many people rely on your mother for their jobs! But she has always, always, made time for the two of you. Believe me, she has sent assistants to the point of madness and beyond, trying to get back to you, trying to change her schedule so that she could be there for you, trying to make you happy! Because that's what she wants Cassidy, more than anything else, for you and Caroline to be happy — I don't think it's me you should be saying that to, do you? Wait a minute, I'll put her back on."

Turning back to the woman seated on the couch, she saw Miranda had both hands wrapped around the mug and was again, looking a little lost. She knelt down and put her free hand on Miranda's knee and the woman looked up startled, "She wants to speak to you again" she said gently, holding out the phone.

Miranda took it,"Cassidy?" she said almost in a whisper, "It's alright darling, I know it must seem sometimes that I don't care, but you and Caroline are everything to me — yes darling — yes darling — don't worry, Andréa and I will sort everything out — yes, we'll talk to you later — I love you too Cassidy, and Caroline, so very much — yes darling, kisses to you both." Handing back the cell, she sipped at the coffee; appreciating the fact that it was scorching hot. Andréa had always managed that, and it was surprising how few people could get even such a simple request right.

"So?" Andy asked, after waiting in vain for more than a few minutes for the other woman to break the silence, "how do you suggest we go about removing Cassidy from the Paparazzi's spotlight?"

Miranda looked up and gazed at her as if she'd been so deep in thought, she'd forgotten she wasn't alone. "The answer is obvious Andréa" she finally replied, "we just give that rag something even juicier to talk about."

Andy frowned, she really, really, didn't like the sound of that. "Well, I guess I could find somewhere to get photographed with Doug," she finally suggested.

Miranda took another sip of coffee before asking, "and is he your significant other?"

"No but —"

"Do you currently have a significant other?"

"Well, no, not at the —"

"So the only thing that would make it juicier than the story they already have, is that you would apparently be cheating on my daughter."

"I guess so, but Miranda —"

She held up a hand, "no, no, that wasn't a question, I will not have my daughter cheated upon."

"Miranda, there is no relationship! I won't actually be cheating on her!"

"You will be according to Page Six and really Andréa, I think you might spare her that, hmm?"

Andy was stunned into silence by the twisted logic and it was several minutes, another half bagel, and brief contemplation of going back to bed, in the hope that when she woke up again it would all have been a bad dream, before she said, "Well, they seem to like you, can't you be photographed with someone?"

She noticed that the compressed lips were back, and through them were forced the words, "Andréa, you're missing the point."

Andy closed her eyes briefly, wondering how the day had got so surreal, then she fixed her gaze on the woman sitting in front of her and gave in, "OK, so what exactly did you have in mind?"

Miranda put her mug on a side table and studied her companion in silence for a few moments, before scowling over at the paper and saying, "Obviously we need to cast that relationship, and therefore those photographs, in a different light."

"Well the one that it actually is would be nice," Andy agreed.

"Andréa, do you get the Post delivered?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't have that poor excuse for journalism in the apartment!"

"And yet there it sits" came the calm reply, "why is that?"

"Because Doug brought it," Andy said frowning.

"And did he bring it because he knew that you would find it amusing? Because he knew it to be false and you could laugh at it together? Did any of your friends, your work colleagues, actually think to dispute the evidence in front of their eyes?"

Andy rubbed the back of her neck absently with one hand as she looked away and thought back to her messages, and didn't that just suck. Finally she said, "no. Apparently, and I really have no idea why, they all believed it."

Miranda nodded knowingly, "if the people who know you believe it Andréa, then so will everyone else, and the more you deny it, the more they will believe. I am afraid your relationship with Cassidy, cannot go back to being friends."

"Wait a minute, my relationship with Cassidy, never moved from being friends!"

"As a journalist Andréa, surely you must know that perception and reality are two totally different things?" Miranda snapped.

"But…" Andy, needing to move, paced from the sofa to the kitchen worktop, stopped, picked up the lonely half bagel and looked at it in contemplation, then put it back down again and came back to stand in front of Miranda, "Just to be clear, I am not stopping seeing your daughters because the gutter press likes to twist the facts!"

"I don't expect you to," the woman replied cutting across Andy's argument before she'd even made it.

"Oh. Well if I can't end the supposed relationship and I'm still going to see her, how is that going to get Cassidy off Page Six?"

"Well it may not entirely" Miranda agreed, "however, the issue is not whether you are seen with her, it's whether or not any photos can be read in a romantic light, because if they can not, there is no story, and therefore nothing to be gained by printing them."

"Which of course they can't, but we are never going to convince them of that."

"But we can Andréa," Miranda said, catching and holding the younger woman's gaze. "Think of another type of relationship where hugging and having the twins staying over is perfectly normal. Where it's even perfectly natural for you to tell them off as you did earlier."

Andy frowned, then frowned harder, then her eyes glazed and went very wide, "no, no, no, no, no!"

"Ah" Miranda said, a bitter smile on her face, "light finally dawns. If nothing else, it's a much juicier story, is it not?"