60. A Place at the Table

I could get used to this. 

I’ve stopped, one red-bottomed heel on the floor of the foyer, the other still on the last step of the stairs. 

“I want mine to be a werewolf!” Cassidy demands from the kitchen. Even from here, I can hear her heels hit the marble floor as she bounces up and down. 

“Can mine be a mermaid?” Caroline asks. 

A low chuckle floats through the halls and strokes down my spine. 

“I’ll make you a deal. Today, you’ll have pancakes in the shape of a certain iconic mouse, but we’ll have a pancake artist come next weekend to perform miracles.” I just know she’s looking down at the girls, one eyebrow arched. “Deal?” 

Girlish giggles and excited squeals bounce off the walls, and I find myself smiling along with them. 

A morning full of laughter, after a night like last night? Yeah, I could definitely get used to this. 

Smoothing down my pleated skirt and straightening the cuffs of my blouse, both office appropriate pieces I managed to find in the guest room closet, I make my way into the kitchen. I find exactly what I expect. 

Like me, Miranda is dressed and fully ready for work. A crisp white shirt contrasts with wide legged navy trousers, minimally decorated with brass buttons on each hip, and is a brave choice considering she’s currently wielding a ladle of pancake batter and a spatula at the griddle. Then again, bravery seems to be a theme of late. 

Her bright red suede heels gleam against the marble. Somehow, the red, white, and blue ensemble doesn’t scream Fourth of July parades and fireworks. 

The girls are in their school uniforms, squeezing in on either side of Miranda, watching the batter cook on the griddle as if it’s a magic show. 

I head straight for the cabinets and pull a few plates from the shelf, then grab some silverware from a drawer. Setting them on the table, I ask, 

“What does everyone want to drink?”

Miranda clucks her tongue. “No, no, the girls can do that.”

The redheads jump to attention, little soldiers given their orders. 

“I’ve got the coffee!” Cassidy says, racing over to the daunting machine. 

“I’ll grab the waters,” Caroline jumps in. “Andy, do you want orange juice?” 

“Be careful of the steam,” Miranda warns Cassidy. “Or you can help your sister, and I’ll get to the coffee when I’m done here.”

“No, Mom, it’s okay. I’ve got this.” There’s only confidence in Cassidy’s tone as she starts pulling levers and pressing buttons. 

“Just water is fine,” I tell Caroline, and she gets to it. 

The four of us bustling through the kitchen is chaotic, but exactly in the way I’ve always dreamed of. Being an only child, I got all my parents' attention, for better and worse, but the house was always quiet. Sometimes, family dinner felt like being a bug under a microscope. This is a nice change of pace. 

Miranda starts arranging pancakes on a platter, and I step up beside her to take the tray to the table. She shifts her weight, just enough to let our hips brush. 

“Good morning, Andrea,” she says, still piling pancakes on top of each other, as though I’m always here for breakfast. 

“Good morning, Miranda.” I sneak her a small, secret smile, and pick the tray up off the counter. 

A few quick and careful steps later, managing to dodge Patricia’s attempts to send me and the pancakes sprawling, I’m placing breakfast on the table while the girls take their seats on one side of the table. I choose a seat on the other side, and a moment later, Miranda slides in next to me. 

I’ve never been present for a full Priestly breakfast, and it’s a revelation. Easy chatter from the girls about their classes, friends, and enemies, fascinated questions about Miranda’s work and which celebrities she’s going to meet today, and not-so-subtle suggestions that I should just move in already since I basically have a room here. 

That last one has me briefly choking on a sip of water. I mop my mouth with an embarrassed wince, but Miranda just smirks at me before turning back to the girls. 

“Actually, Bobbseys,” she starts. “We have some things we need to discuss with you.”

The words land as if Miranda’s put her hand on my thigh. 

We. 

After we tell the girls, and since we signed a relationship disclosure with Stacey from HR, it’ll be real. Really real. 

My fingers bunch the cloth napkin in my lap. 

It’s all happening so quickly, and yet it feels like it’s taken years to get to this point. 

The girls’ attention is squarely on Miranda now. For her part, Miranda doesn’t show an ounce of hesitation, not even a clearing of her throat, before she lays it out for them. 

“Firstly,” she says. “Andrea and I are in a romantic relationship.”

The reaction is instant. 

“Oh my gosh!” Cassidy exclaims, slapping her hands over her mouth. “Eeeeeek!” 

Caroline is bouncing in her chair. 

“Really?! Finally!” The bouncing stops abruptly. “But, you work together. Are you going to get in trouble?” 

Miranda shakes her head. 

“No, dear. We’ve already notified Human Resources, and had Nigel appointed as Andrea’s direct manager. The day to day work won’t change, but the paper trails are all in order.”

Caroline lets out a relieved sigh. 

“Well, that’s good,” she says simply and picks up her fork and knife, going back to sawing off a piece of pancake. 

“So is Andy gonna move in?” Cassidy asks, an excited glint in her eyes. 

“No, Andrea is not ‘going to’ move in,” Miranda gently corrects her. “Yet. Which brings us to the other matter.”

The girls pause, Caroline with the fork halfway to her mouth. My toes start twitching in my shoes. 

“You know I’ve tried to keep you out of the custody situation.” It’s the first time she sounds the slightest bit uncertain. 

The girls both nod vigorously, and Miranda’s shoulders drop a few centimeters. 

“The situation has escalated,” Miranda explains. “And it’s only fair that you girls have a say in how things unfold from here.”

The girls wear twin expressions of grim determination. 

“What is it, Mom?” Caroline prods. 

Miranda breathes in through her nose, and one of her hands falls from her lap to the space between our chairs. Without a thought, I twine my fingers through hers. 

“Your father’s lawyers have made an ultimatum. They have photos of Andrea and I. None of it is scandalous, but they plan to spin it as such unless I sign a temporary custody adjustment that has you spending more time with him.”

Cassidy and Caroline share a look, and turn back to us. 

“What’s the plan?” Cassidy asks. 

Miranda smiles. 

“Simply, the plan is to take control of the story. Whether the photos come out or not, Andrea and I will show the media and the public that there is nothing torrid happening here. At the same time, we’ll show them what our family looks like.”

“But?” Caroline prods, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, she looks just like her mother. 

“But,” Miranda concedes. “There are two options. One, I don’t sign the adjustment, the photos come out, and we fight an uphill battle. We do it together, and I have every confidence, but it will be harder, and your father’s lawyers may try to pull more tricks, knowing they haven’t gotten their way.”

The girls grimace. 

“Two,” she continues. “I sign the adjustment and make some demands of my own. We set a deadline for six months, then we finally settle this circus in front of a judge. Andrea and I get enough time to tell our story in an optimal light, but you girls would have to spend more time with your father until February.”

The twins look at each other, a silent conversation going on between them. 

“It’s up to you, girls,” Miranda assures them. “We can make either route work, and I understand if you don’t want me to sign the adjustment. I certainly don’t want to either.”

They turn back to their mom in perfect synchronicity, devilish smirks taking over their faces. 

“You and Andy get to show the world that you’re madly in love and perfect for each other,” Cassidy says. 

“And we get to show them that we are not better off with Dad and her,” Caroline finishes, her smirk turning savage and sharp. “Like good cop, bad cop.”

I can’t hold myself back any longer. 

“Are you sure?” I ask them, leaning forward. “We can deal with the fallout of the photos. Together.”

They both nod decisively. 

“We got this, Andy,” Caroline reassures me. 

“I’ve been wanting to stop playing nice for months now,” Cassidy adds. “Oh, I think we can make it pretty clear which house we would rather stay at. Ever since she came into the picture, Dad’s been weird. He keeps trying to get us to be all lovey-dovey with her.”

“We’re sick of it,” Caroline finishes. “So as long as it’s not forever, we still get to spend some time here until it’s all over, and it gives us a better chance of winning, we say to sign the papers.”

Miranda squeezes my hand in hers. I look over to her, and she’s glowing with pride. 

“Those are my girls,” she purrs. 

And just like that, the course is set.