Meeting Vivian - Chapter 7 - Irv
See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and notes.
Chapter 7 - Irv
1987
“Vivian,” Miranda Priestly called as she entered the dark dusty office. As soon as she laid the latest copy of Runway on the old wooden table, the office was transformed. The furnishings were bright and clean, it was ablaze with light, and the wooden table was replaced with a glass-topped desk. Vivian Martine, deceased former editor-in-chief of Runway, stood in front of the windows.
“Miranda, it is good to see you. How have you been?” Vivian glided up to her desk and pulled the magazine closer. “The cover is as beautiful as you described.”
“Thank you,” Miranda sat carefully in one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. “I overheard something earlier today that I thought might interest you.”
“Do tell.” Vivian pulled out her desk chair and sat.
“A new member of the Elias-Clarke board of directors is intent on making a name for himself. He plans to renew the effort to lease out the thirteenth floor.” Miranda pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
“What can you tell me about this board member?” Vivian asked.
“He is an obnoxious person who brags about being a self-made man while neglecting to mention that he married a very wealthy widow.” Miranda grimaced. “He is the vice president of finance and his name is Irving Ravitz.”
“Hmm.” Vivian tapped the magazine on her desk. “I’ll talk to the girls. I’m sure they will be able to dissuade Mr. Ravitz.”
“I hope so. I have a feeling he’s going to be trouble.” Miranda shook her head as she stood.
“The magazine is doing well. What does he have to complain about?” Vivian stood and moved around her desk to join Miranda.
“He seems to forget that you have to spend money to make money.” Miranda shrugged. “I’ll just have to deal with his petty complaints.” She nodded to her ghostly friend and left to return to her office.
Vivian watched as Miranda walked away and waited until she guessed the woman was on the elevator before calling her friends. “Girls?”
The six models popped into Vivian’s office. “You called?” Gina smiled.
“I believe your talents will be needed soon.” Vivian passed on Miranda’s warning. When she was through the young women began brainstorming plans to take care of the intruders.
Vivian watched as Amanda, the youngest of the group, chewed her lip as she thought. Before she could say anything, Tess noticed her friend’s distraction and nudged her shoulder. “You have an idea?”
“Yeah.” Amanda eased over and put her arm around Vivian’s waist. “Would you like to join in on the fun?”
“Me?” Vivian was surprised by the offer. The girls seemed to take great pride in protecting the thirteenth floor for her.
“If you’re interested.” Amanda pulled Vivian into a one-armed hug when she agreed to play along.
Vivian and the models spent the rest of the afternoon perfecting their plan. They even took time for a couple of practice runs. The next day they were ready and eager to receive visitors.
***
Irv Ravitz stepped out of the freight elevator into the dimly lit hallway. When he glanced over his shoulder, he blew out a disgusted breath. “Are you coming?” His companion, Charles Hardy Jr., edged out into the hallway.
“Why do we need to be here?” Irv rolled his eyes at the man’s question and wondered again why he decided to cultivate his friendship. Sure Charles Hardy Sr. was a force to be reckoned within the business world, but his son was decidedly not. In fact, the older Hardy barely interacted with his mousey son. Irv had hoped that his friendship with Charles Jr. would open a few more doors professionally and socially. So far, his relationship with the vice president of marketing hadn’t done anything for Irv’s prospects.
“The company hasn’t been able to rent out this floor in years. It’s a drain on profits. If I can determine the problem and fix it, the CEO will notice me.” Quickly glancing at Charles, he amended, “Us. He’ll notice us.” Irv started walking down the hallway. He gave a brief nod when he heard Charles hurry to catch up. The hallway ended at a T intersection, without hesitation, Irv turned left.
The men wandered the dusty halls and inspected empty offices. Occasionally, Irv would catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he turned his head, whatever it was disappeared. Shaking his head he stopped in the middle of a large room and looked all around. “If we can’t rent out this floor, we should have building administration move the mechanicals here. Then we could lease out space on that floor and fully utilize this one”
Charles shook his head as he looked around. “Someone suggested that a few years ago,” he murmured. “They did a study and determined it would be cost prohibitive to move the equipment and re-route all of the ducting and electrical lines.”
“Humph,” Irv grumbled. He glared when Charles jumped and spun around. “What is your problem?”
Charles swallowed and turned around. “I thought I saw something.”
“Shadows,” Irv grunted and continued his tour of the thirteenth floor. With only the emergency lighting on, it was easy to imagine something lurking around the edges of the rooms. It also didn’t help that it was evening and there was no sunlight streaming in the dusty windows.
The men continued to wander the thirteenth floor. As time went on, Irv noticed that Charles seemed to become more anxious. He didn’t want to admit it, but Irv also felt a building sense of dread.
Charles jumped again and looked nervously at Irv. “We’re being herded,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about,” Irv bit out. He felt like his skin was crawling.
“The shadows,” Charles said in a low voice. “When they block a hall, you go where they aren’t.”
Irv stared aghast at the man. “Ri, ridiculous,” he stammered. However, when he saw a clear hallway, he hurried toward it.
Soon they found themselves in a large open area. It might have been a bullpen in a previous existence. Dark offices lined the outside wall. Through open doors, Irv glimpsed views of the dark New York skyline. Suddenly a cold draft brushed his cheek and a light fog seemed to waft up from the floor.
Charles held out his hand. “That’s cold. Where is it coming from?” he asked.
“Air conditioning must be messed up. There’s probably an air duct above us,” Irv said as he and Charles craned their necks searching the ceiling tiles for a grated opening. The men exchanged looks when neither could determine the source of the breeze or expanding fog. Slowly they made their way across the room.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Charles. He stopped and looked around trying to determine where the sound came from. Irv watched as his friend started shaking. Before he could berate Charles for being a fool, he heard it too. A low moan seemed to be coming from one of the offices they had just passed. The longer they listened, the louder it became.
“That’s it. I’m leaving!” Charles shouted as he ran toward the hallway.
Irv just stared, shocked when the man broke and ran. “Idiot,” he muttered even though he was about thirty seconds from bolting. Irv decided to call it a night, when the lights popped on in one of the offices near the corner of the room. Irv frowned as he stared at the light spilling out of the doorway. Nervous, but still curious, he slowly made his way to the doorway and crept into the brightly lit office. The room was bare except for an old wooden table and two metal folding chairs. Irv wondered if there was some kind of electrical malfunction that caused the lights to come on.
Suddenly the lights went out, including all of the emergency lighting. Irv froze next to the doorframe. Before he could move, the lights popped on again. Standing in the middle of the empty office was a ten foot tall black robed figure. The huge black scythe it held could only mean it was the Grim Reaper himself. A boney hand extended from a billowing black sleeve and beckoned Irv to come closer. Irv shrieked, turned, and ran.
2009
Irv wandered around the Runway museum in a sour mood. He hated that this place existed. The only reason he was here now was because the entire Elias-Clarke board of directors had been invited to celebrate the expansion of the museum. Other than the generous portion taken up by the Closet, the rest of the thirteenth floor was now part of the Runway museum. Representatives from several other fashion publications, fashion-focused academic institutions, and a few local design houses were currently mingling and admiring the expanded exhibits and collections.
As far as Irv was concerned, a few well placed incendiary devices would do wonders for the entire floor. He finished his drink and looked around for one of the ubiquitous waiters to get a replacement. Once he exchanged his empty glass for a full one, he mentally groused that even the champagne was of a higher caliber than that served at any normal Runway celebration. “Only the best for that bitch,” he sneered under his breath.
His hatred for the museum was only eclipsed by his loathing for his nemesis, Miranda Priestly, and by extension Andrea, call me Andy, Sachs. Publicly the museum’s purpose was to highlight Runway’s history in publishing and fashion, but he knew it was just a strategy to glorify and expand Miranda’s influence on the industry. With the goodwill and favorable press this damn museum generated, he’d never be able to get rid of the old bitch.
Irv drained his glass and snagged a fresh drink as he wove his way through the crowd. Soon he became fed up with hearing everyone praise Miranda, the museum, and Andy Sachs. He needed a few minutes of peace and quiet. As he surveyed the room he noticed that the guests were curiously absent from the corner housing the re-created office of Vivian Martine. Destination decided upon, Irv plowed through the throng with a single minded intensity.
***
Andy took a sip of champagne and sighed. Tonight’s celebration was an unqualified success. All of her planning and hard work had paid off with good publicity and an increase in donations to the Priestly Foundation for the Runway Museum. She couldn’t wait to get home and spend some quality time with Miranda. They had both been so busy the past few weeks, the only times they had been together had been late at night when they fell into bed. Unfortunately, one or both would immediately pass out from exhaustion. “Where has my lovely fiancée wandered off to?” Andy whispered to herself as she gazed around the room. It didn’t take long to locate Miranda talking to several representatives from the Fashion Institute of Technology. Satisfied that Miranda would be occupied for a while, Andy eased through the crowd and made her way to Vivian’s office.
Andy let out a sigh of relief as she slipped into Vivian’s office. She set her empty glass on the corner of the glass-topped desk before softly calling, “Vivian?”
Vivian materialized behind her desk. “Darling, the party is out there,” she waved towards the door. “What are you doing in here?”
Andy ran her fingers through her hair. “Hiding,” she said with a wry grin. “I didn’t realize how exhausting schmoozing was.”
Before Vivian could respond to Andy’s comment, she whispered “Incoming” and disappeared.
“Good evening, Ms Sachs,” Irv slurred.
Andy rolled her eyes before turning to face the chairman of the Elias-Clarke board of directors. “Hello, Mr. Ravitz. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Andy pasted on a courteous, albeit fake smile. If there was one thing she learned at Miranda’s side, it was how to be charming to the loathsome.
“Thought I heard you talking to someone,” Irv said as he edged into the office and looked around.
Andy shrugged. “That was me. Sometimes I talk to myself when I’m working on a story.” She wondered how much the man had to drink. Irv seemed to be taking extra care with his steps as he slowly prowled the perimeter of Vivian’s office. The only time he hurried was when he slipped past the desk. Once he was clear, he returned to the doorway.
Irv scowled as he looked around the office. “I don’t like this place,” he muttered.
“Why?” Andy asked, stunned by Irv’s words.
“It’s like a freaking shrine to two bitches,” Irv growled. “This dead one,” he waved at the glass-topped desk, “and that one out there.” When Irv jerked his thumb over his shoulder, it was clear to Andy that he was referring to Miranda.
“Wait one minute, you.” Andy froze as she felt the soft tendrils of cold air brush the back of her neck. She watched Irv turn a pasty white as he stared at a point over her right shoulder. Before she could make a move, Irv bolted from the office.
Andy turned and glared at the ten foot grim reaper standing behind Vivian’s desk. She hated to admit it, but the huge ass black scythe was a nice touch. “Seriously?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
***
Miranda was on her way to Vivian’s office when Irv ran past her on his way to the exit. “That was curious,” she murmured. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the man move so quickly. Considering the direction he was coming from, Miranda had her suspicions as to what may have prompted Irv’s sudden departure.
“Andrea?” Miranda glided into Vivian’s office and slipped an arm around Andrea’s waist. “What was Irv doing in here?” She gave her fiancée a chaste kiss on the temple. When Andrea fumbled with an explanation, Miranda knew she had guessed correctly.
Before Miranda could press the issue, Vivian offered an innocent sounding explanation. “We were just renewing old acquaintances.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really.” Her fiancée mirrored Vivian’s innocuous look. However, neither the ghost nor her fiancée were particularly convincing. She would chat with Andrea later to learn the truth. “Darling, Charles Marlin from the Fashion Institute is looking for you. He wanted to discuss the loan of several exhibits.” She moved a lock of hair behind Andrea’s ear.
“Thanks. Be right back.” Andrea kissed Miranda’s cheek. Before she left the office, Andrea turned and pointed at Vivian. “We’ll talk later.” She was through the door before Miranda could ask what was going on.
“Have you set a date?” Miranda heard Vivian’s question but her attention was firmly on Andrea’s progress across the room.
“We’re getting closer.” Miranda sighed and pulled her focus back to her friend. “It should be some time in the next four months. Neither of us wants to wait.”
Vivian moved towards the windows. “I can’t wait to see the pictures. You will both be lovely brides.” She leaned against windowsill, gazing out at the view.
“Actually, Andrea and I are planning a very small ceremony. Only family and close friends. There will be a larger reception later.” Miranda walked over and stood next to Vivian.
“That sounds lovely,” Vivian murmured.
“Andrea would like to have the ceremony here.” Miranda smirked at Vivian’s reaction.
“Really? That’s wonderful,” Vivian laughed.
“I thought it was an inspired idea. You and the models will be most welcome.” Miranda smiled at her friend.
“I can hardly wait,” Vivian said gleefully.
Chapter 8 - Helen
Chapter 7 - Irv
1987
“Vivian,” Miranda Priestly called as she entered the dark dusty office. As soon as she laid the latest copy of Runway on the old wooden table, the office was transformed. The furnishings were bright and clean, it was ablaze with light, and the wooden table was replaced with a glass-topped desk. Vivian Martine, deceased former editor-in-chief of Runway, stood in front of the windows.
“Miranda, it is good to see you. How have you been?” Vivian glided up to her desk and pulled the magazine closer. “The cover is as beautiful as you described.”
“Thank you,” Miranda sat carefully in one of the visitor chairs in front of the desk. “I overheard something earlier today that I thought might interest you.”
“Do tell.” Vivian pulled out her desk chair and sat.
“A new member of the Elias-Clarke board of directors is intent on making a name for himself. He plans to renew the effort to lease out the thirteenth floor.” Miranda pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
“What can you tell me about this board member?” Vivian asked.
“He is an obnoxious person who brags about being a self-made man while neglecting to mention that he married a very wealthy widow.” Miranda grimaced. “He is the vice president of finance and his name is Irving Ravitz.”
“Hmm.” Vivian tapped the magazine on her desk. “I’ll talk to the girls. I’m sure they will be able to dissuade Mr. Ravitz.”
“I hope so. I have a feeling he’s going to be trouble.” Miranda shook her head as she stood.
“The magazine is doing well. What does he have to complain about?” Vivian stood and moved around her desk to join Miranda.
“He seems to forget that you have to spend money to make money.” Miranda shrugged. “I’ll just have to deal with his petty complaints.” She nodded to her ghostly friend and left to return to her office.
Vivian watched as Miranda walked away and waited until she guessed the woman was on the elevator before calling her friends. “Girls?”
The six models popped into Vivian’s office. “You called?” Gina smiled.
“I believe your talents will be needed soon.” Vivian passed on Miranda’s warning. When she was through the young women began brainstorming plans to take care of the intruders.
Vivian watched as Amanda, the youngest of the group, chewed her lip as she thought. Before she could say anything, Tess noticed her friend’s distraction and nudged her shoulder. “You have an idea?”
“Yeah.” Amanda eased over and put her arm around Vivian’s waist. “Would you like to join in on the fun?”
“Me?” Vivian was surprised by the offer. The girls seemed to take great pride in protecting the thirteenth floor for her.
“If you’re interested.” Amanda pulled Vivian into a one-armed hug when she agreed to play along.
Vivian and the models spent the rest of the afternoon perfecting their plan. They even took time for a couple of practice runs. The next day they were ready and eager to receive visitors.
***
Irv Ravitz stepped out of the freight elevator into the dimly lit hallway. When he glanced over his shoulder, he blew out a disgusted breath. “Are you coming?” His companion, Charles Hardy Jr., edged out into the hallway.
“Why do we need to be here?” Irv rolled his eyes at the man’s question and wondered again why he decided to cultivate his friendship. Sure Charles Hardy Sr. was a force to be reckoned within the business world, but his son was decidedly not. In fact, the older Hardy barely interacted with his mousey son. Irv had hoped that his friendship with Charles Jr. would open a few more doors professionally and socially. So far, his relationship with the vice president of marketing hadn’t done anything for Irv’s prospects.
“The company hasn’t been able to rent out this floor in years. It’s a drain on profits. If I can determine the problem and fix it, the CEO will notice me.” Quickly glancing at Charles, he amended, “Us. He’ll notice us.” Irv started walking down the hallway. He gave a brief nod when he heard Charles hurry to catch up. The hallway ended at a T intersection, without hesitation, Irv turned left.
The men wandered the dusty halls and inspected empty offices. Occasionally, Irv would catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he turned his head, whatever it was disappeared. Shaking his head he stopped in the middle of a large room and looked all around. “If we can’t rent out this floor, we should have building administration move the mechanicals here. Then we could lease out space on that floor and fully utilize this one”
Charles shook his head as he looked around. “Someone suggested that a few years ago,” he murmured. “They did a study and determined it would be cost prohibitive to move the equipment and re-route all of the ducting and electrical lines.”
“Humph,” Irv grumbled. He glared when Charles jumped and spun around. “What is your problem?”
Charles swallowed and turned around. “I thought I saw something.”
“Shadows,” Irv grunted and continued his tour of the thirteenth floor. With only the emergency lighting on, it was easy to imagine something lurking around the edges of the rooms. It also didn’t help that it was evening and there was no sunlight streaming in the dusty windows.
The men continued to wander the thirteenth floor. As time went on, Irv noticed that Charles seemed to become more anxious. He didn’t want to admit it, but Irv also felt a building sense of dread.
Charles jumped again and looked nervously at Irv. “We’re being herded,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about,” Irv bit out. He felt like his skin was crawling.
“The shadows,” Charles said in a low voice. “When they block a hall, you go where they aren’t.”
Irv stared aghast at the man. “Ri, ridiculous,” he stammered. However, when he saw a clear hallway, he hurried toward it.
Soon they found themselves in a large open area. It might have been a bullpen in a previous existence. Dark offices lined the outside wall. Through open doors, Irv glimpsed views of the dark New York skyline. Suddenly a cold draft brushed his cheek and a light fog seemed to waft up from the floor.
Charles held out his hand. “That’s cold. Where is it coming from?” he asked.
“Air conditioning must be messed up. There’s probably an air duct above us,” Irv said as he and Charles craned their necks searching the ceiling tiles for a grated opening. The men exchanged looks when neither could determine the source of the breeze or expanding fog. Slowly they made their way across the room.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Charles. He stopped and looked around trying to determine where the sound came from. Irv watched as his friend started shaking. Before he could berate Charles for being a fool, he heard it too. A low moan seemed to be coming from one of the offices they had just passed. The longer they listened, the louder it became.
“That’s it. I’m leaving!” Charles shouted as he ran toward the hallway.
Irv just stared, shocked when the man broke and ran. “Idiot,” he muttered even though he was about thirty seconds from bolting. Irv decided to call it a night, when the lights popped on in one of the offices near the corner of the room. Irv frowned as he stared at the light spilling out of the doorway. Nervous, but still curious, he slowly made his way to the doorway and crept into the brightly lit office. The room was bare except for an old wooden table and two metal folding chairs. Irv wondered if there was some kind of electrical malfunction that caused the lights to come on.
Suddenly the lights went out, including all of the emergency lighting. Irv froze next to the doorframe. Before he could move, the lights popped on again. Standing in the middle of the empty office was a ten foot tall black robed figure. The huge black scythe it held could only mean it was the Grim Reaper himself. A boney hand extended from a billowing black sleeve and beckoned Irv to come closer. Irv shrieked, turned, and ran.
2009
Irv wandered around the Runway museum in a sour mood. He hated that this place existed. The only reason he was here now was because the entire Elias-Clarke board of directors had been invited to celebrate the expansion of the museum. Other than the generous portion taken up by the Closet, the rest of the thirteenth floor was now part of the Runway museum. Representatives from several other fashion publications, fashion-focused academic institutions, and a few local design houses were currently mingling and admiring the expanded exhibits and collections.
As far as Irv was concerned, a few well placed incendiary devices would do wonders for the entire floor. He finished his drink and looked around for one of the ubiquitous waiters to get a replacement. Once he exchanged his empty glass for a full one, he mentally groused that even the champagne was of a higher caliber than that served at any normal Runway celebration. “Only the best for that bitch,” he sneered under his breath.
His hatred for the museum was only eclipsed by his loathing for his nemesis, Miranda Priestly, and by extension Andrea, call me Andy, Sachs. Publicly the museum’s purpose was to highlight Runway’s history in publishing and fashion, but he knew it was just a strategy to glorify and expand Miranda’s influence on the industry. With the goodwill and favorable press this damn museum generated, he’d never be able to get rid of the old bitch.
Irv drained his glass and snagged a fresh drink as he wove his way through the crowd. Soon he became fed up with hearing everyone praise Miranda, the museum, and Andy Sachs. He needed a few minutes of peace and quiet. As he surveyed the room he noticed that the guests were curiously absent from the corner housing the re-created office of Vivian Martine. Destination decided upon, Irv plowed through the throng with a single minded intensity.
***
Andy took a sip of champagne and sighed. Tonight’s celebration was an unqualified success. All of her planning and hard work had paid off with good publicity and an increase in donations to the Priestly Foundation for the Runway Museum. She couldn’t wait to get home and spend some quality time with Miranda. They had both been so busy the past few weeks, the only times they had been together had been late at night when they fell into bed. Unfortunately, one or both would immediately pass out from exhaustion. “Where has my lovely fiancée wandered off to?” Andy whispered to herself as she gazed around the room. It didn’t take long to locate Miranda talking to several representatives from the Fashion Institute of Technology. Satisfied that Miranda would be occupied for a while, Andy eased through the crowd and made her way to Vivian’s office.
Andy let out a sigh of relief as she slipped into Vivian’s office. She set her empty glass on the corner of the glass-topped desk before softly calling, “Vivian?”
Vivian materialized behind her desk. “Darling, the party is out there,” she waved towards the door. “What are you doing in here?”
Andy ran her fingers through her hair. “Hiding,” she said with a wry grin. “I didn’t realize how exhausting schmoozing was.”
Before Vivian could respond to Andy’s comment, she whispered “Incoming” and disappeared.
“Good evening, Ms Sachs,” Irv slurred.
Andy rolled her eyes before turning to face the chairman of the Elias-Clarke board of directors. “Hello, Mr. Ravitz. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Andy pasted on a courteous, albeit fake smile. If there was one thing she learned at Miranda’s side, it was how to be charming to the loathsome.
“Thought I heard you talking to someone,” Irv said as he edged into the office and looked around.
Andy shrugged. “That was me. Sometimes I talk to myself when I’m working on a story.” She wondered how much the man had to drink. Irv seemed to be taking extra care with his steps as he slowly prowled the perimeter of Vivian’s office. The only time he hurried was when he slipped past the desk. Once he was clear, he returned to the doorway.
Irv scowled as he looked around the office. “I don’t like this place,” he muttered.
“Why?” Andy asked, stunned by Irv’s words.
“It’s like a freaking shrine to two bitches,” Irv growled. “This dead one,” he waved at the glass-topped desk, “and that one out there.” When Irv jerked his thumb over his shoulder, it was clear to Andy that he was referring to Miranda.
“Wait one minute, you.” Andy froze as she felt the soft tendrils of cold air brush the back of her neck. She watched Irv turn a pasty white as he stared at a point over her right shoulder. Before she could make a move, Irv bolted from the office.
Andy turned and glared at the ten foot grim reaper standing behind Vivian’s desk. She hated to admit it, but the huge ass black scythe was a nice touch. “Seriously?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.
***
Miranda was on her way to Vivian’s office when Irv ran past her on his way to the exit. “That was curious,” she murmured. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the man move so quickly. Considering the direction he was coming from, Miranda had her suspicions as to what may have prompted Irv’s sudden departure.
“Andrea?” Miranda glided into Vivian’s office and slipped an arm around Andrea’s waist. “What was Irv doing in here?” She gave her fiancée a chaste kiss on the temple. When Andrea fumbled with an explanation, Miranda knew she had guessed correctly.
Before Miranda could press the issue, Vivian offered an innocent sounding explanation. “We were just renewing old acquaintances.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really.” Her fiancée mirrored Vivian’s innocuous look. However, neither the ghost nor her fiancée were particularly convincing. She would chat with Andrea later to learn the truth. “Darling, Charles Marlin from the Fashion Institute is looking for you. He wanted to discuss the loan of several exhibits.” She moved a lock of hair behind Andrea’s ear.
“Thanks. Be right back.” Andrea kissed Miranda’s cheek. Before she left the office, Andrea turned and pointed at Vivian. “We’ll talk later.” She was through the door before Miranda could ask what was going on.
“Have you set a date?” Miranda heard Vivian’s question but her attention was firmly on Andrea’s progress across the room.
“We’re getting closer.” Miranda sighed and pulled her focus back to her friend. “It should be some time in the next four months. Neither of us wants to wait.”
Vivian moved towards the windows. “I can’t wait to see the pictures. You will both be lovely brides.” She leaned against windowsill, gazing out at the view.
“Actually, Andrea and I are planning a very small ceremony. Only family and close friends. There will be a larger reception later.” Miranda walked over and stood next to Vivian.
“That sounds lovely,” Vivian murmured.
“Andrea would like to have the ceremony here.” Miranda smirked at Vivian’s reaction.
“Really? That’s wonderful,” Vivian laughed.
“I thought it was an inspired idea. You and the models will be most welcome.” Miranda smiled at her friend.
“I can hardly wait,” Vivian said gleefully.
Chapter 8 - Helen