DISCLAIMER: The Devil Wears Prada and its characters belong to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another appetizer for a (slightly) AU series I'm calling "Life is a Banquet." There's more (a lot more) where this came from. I can't promise you will always find it entertaining (what writer can?), but I promise, on my honor as an editor, that it will be literate, well-punctuated, and (mostly) free of typos. Comments welcome.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To medoramacd[at]yahoo.com

Sunday in the Park with Andréa
By Medora MacD


Monday, January 19, 2009

The first time it happened could have been explained away. A regal-looking woman grasping the hand of a somewhat younger one — her sister? a cousin or niece? the family nanny? — as they led red-headed twins across 5th Avenue for a stroll in Central Park on Martin Luther King Day. Perfectly innocent.

The second time was fairly innocuous, too. The snow that had fallen overnight had been brushed away, but the path was still icy in spots. It could have been construed simply as a matter of prudence when the white-haired woman linked her arm through that of her taller companion as the girls raced ahead toward Conservatory Water to see if anyone was skating there.

The third time there was no mistaking it. She made sure of that. After she helped Andy rise from the bench on which they'd been sipping hot chocolate as the girls chased each other around the Alice in Wonderland statue, she pulled her close and tucked her head beneath her startled chin.


Miranda drew back far enough to see Andy's big, brown, slightly bewildered eyes. And then she kissed her on the lips. Not once, but twice. In front of importunate pigeons and assorted passersby and potentially well within range of paparazzi, if any of the bunch at Café Boulud had been savvy enough to tag after them after brunch.

"Happy birthday, darling."

The End

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