A/N: I know it's been a few months, but hopefully you guys are still with me. I hope you like the update. If not, let me know why.

R&R!

-Sammy

Making her way through Grand Central, Miranda checked her cell phone to confirm the platform for the incoming train.

Arriving just in time to see the train come to stop, Miranda placed her phone into her bag and waited for her girls to depart. The flash of red hair had a rarely seen smile blossoming on Miranda's face.

"Mom!" She heads before she was entangled within the arms of both her Bobbseys.

Kneeling, she hugged them closely and placed a kiss on the crown of both vibrant redheads before pulling away and standing up straight.

"Hello, my darlings. Did you have a nice time at your father's?" Miranda asked as she took each of their small hands and began to make her way out of Grand Central. Roy following behind with their bags and Patricia.

"It was okay. He has a new girlfriend." Caroline replied.

Miranda hummed at the news; Her ex-husband seemed to be going through something. Each year he got older, his choice in girlfriends got younger. Not one of them seemed to last more than a year.

Not sure what to make of it, she simply replied, "That's good, dear."

Making it to the waiting car, Miranda helped both her girls into their seats and climbed in.

As Roy navigated through traffic back towards the townhouse, I listened to the twins as the continued to begin and finish each other's sentences about their week away. Usually Miranda would be completely enameled with everything that the two four-year olds regaled, but today, her thoughts were centered on Andréa and Orla.

Two people who she had spared no more than a few spare moments unintentionally over the last 30 years, but seeing the photo of the three of them … It was stuck in her mind.

As if sensing something different, Cassidy asked, "Is you okay, Mum?"

"Are." Miranda corrected automatically and continued, "I'm alright, Bobbsey. Mummy is just thinking about her day."

"Was it a good day, Mum?" Caroline asked softly.

"It was a bit weird, but not good or bad." Miranda answered honestly.

"Why weird?" the girls asked together.

Miranda laughed lightly and was about to answer when Roy parked in front of the townhouse.

The twins and their bags were unloaded and lead quickly into the house.

Immediately the girls and Patricia took off into their den, clearly glad to be home.

Roy passed the bags to Cara and they were taken upstairs.

"Good night, Ms. Priestly." Roy stated as he made his way to the door.

"You as well, Roy. Thank you." Miranda answered before making her way to her study.

As she entered, she looked at one of the bookcases and a picture on one of the top shelves. Moving forward, Miranda took down the frame and went to sit on her sofa.

Staring down, she looked at a candid picture she'd taken of Orla and Andréa laughing. The picture was developed in black and white, but it only added to the contrast of the two young women.

"Who are they?" Cassidy asked.

Looking up, Miranda was surprised to see both her girls and Patricia around her.

"Orla and Andréa: Mummy knew them when she first came to New York." Miranda answered as the twins settled against her to look at the picture more closely.

"They're really pretty, Mum." Caroline said.

"Why do you still have their pictures? Are you still close?" Cassidy asked as she looked at her Mum.

"I have their picture because Mummy still cares about them, but we're not close. You see this little one?" Miranda stated as she pointed to Andrea and continued, "Mummy saw her again today for the first time in twenty-two years."

"Is that a long time?" "Why haven't you seen them, Mummy?" the twins asked at the same time.

"That is a long time, Bobbsey. I haven't seen them because the other girl was my very best friend and she was killed so it hurt to be around her family." Miranda answered honestly.

Miranda was always honest with her girls and after the loss of their paternal grandfather a few years ago, they understood death.

The girls were having one of their silent conversations as Miranda looked down at the physical reminder of her past.

There had been multiple times something important had happened and she'd thought of these two. The days after her pregnancy was discovered that she'd think and imagine if her child would be as open and free as Andrea had been. If Orla would have been as great an aunt as she were a friend and sister.

If Andrea would grow up to be like the sister, she'd lost too soon.

"Can we meet her?" Cassidy asked quietly.

There was little her girls had asked for that she couldn't, no, wouldn't provide. This was something in her power to do, but the question was did she want to.

"Well, girls..."

Andy POV

As I was moving around the shop to put away different solutions, I made my way up to the garment floor and saw the discoloration of the water from where the gown that dragged Miranda back into my life had been soaking.

Walking over to the bay, I pushed one of the four buttons connected to this bay and the rack holding the dress began to rise.

Allowing it to hang above the sink, I pressed another, and the liquid began to drain out.

Reaching on, I pulled on a pair of gloves and looked to the end of the dress where the worst of the stain had been.

The solution it had been soaking in did its job and the majority of the paint was removed. There was a slight discoloration where the paint had been for so long. I knew I'd have to soak it again, but I decided to do some spot treatment while it was still wet.

Lowering it slightly, I moved back to the light take it had been originally on and found a powder that my grandfather had created just for these types of stains.

Moving back to the sink bay, I sprinkled the powder lightly on the bottom of the dress and then up to the sleeves. Due to the wet fabric, the powder was able to set into the remaining stain. Carefully turning the dress over, I applied the solution to the back and pulled the gloves free.

I set another timer and moved back down to the second floor. I walked to the farthest worktable and looked at the progress on the V and A Museum piece. I would send an email to the London team so that were up to date on the progress.

Happy with the status of my two pressing projects, I walked into my office off the gallery floor and sat at my desk.

Today had been unexpected. I wished I could pick up the phone and tell my mother or grandmother that they'd been right, and Miranda had found her way back to us, but I was the last of our family remaining.

Glancing at the last picture we'd taken together strictly by chance.

My family had been marked by two things: tragedy and success. The photo had been taken the day that I graduated from Columbia with my art conservation degree and was about to go on a trip around the world to view and experience the greatest artworks ever made.

I'd just landed in London, when I turned my phone and got the message from a NYPD detective that my mother had been killed and grandmother had been passed. It was another three days before I would be able to listen to the rest of the message after getting off that plane and on the first one back to New York.

A robbery next door had turned violent and stray bullets pierced the thin walls of our three-bedroom apartment and my mother had been hit. My grandmother having a heart attack due to the panic was a fluke, or so the fresh-faced detective had told me.

I stayed in New York another two weeks in order to add the remaining family to our family plot and giving the temporary manager of the shop all the access codes.

Once I was back on that plane, I was lost to a world of art and fashion. Learning everything I could about my family and our heritage. Upon returning to New York some two years later, I was 23 and had deeper understanding of myself.

Having been away for so long, coming home felt like a welcoming. The first stop was to the cemetery and the second was to the warehouse.

Renin, my temporary manager, thought I was ghost at first, then promptly advised me of the pending projects and went on vacation. It still made me laugh to think about it.

Ever since I got back, I threw myself into one project after another. There was only Renin left of what was affectionately known as the "Old Guard". The photo right next to the one at graduation is of Renin and I right before she went on vacation.

She had gone on her own soul-searching exploration, though she stopped back into town more often than I did.

Pulling myself out of my musing, I sent a quick update to the London museum with the progress update and created the new client folder for Mr. Kipling and added the addendum that it was a Runway order.

I'd just filed the new file when the timer went off and I made my way back up to the third floor and put on a fresh set of gloves.

Grabbing my magnifying glasses, I put them on and began to inspect the back of dress. Smiling at the complete removal of the stain, I gently turned it over to the front and found that the bottom and sleeve were clean as well.

Turning on the tap, I used the spray nozzle to remove the powder from both sides of the gourmet. Once I was certain everything was removed, I hit the button and the bay started to fill up with water. Moving over to my shelf, I grabbed a medium grade soap and moved back to the suite. I dropped the tablet into the water and waited for the bubbles to show it had activated correctly.

Pushing another button, the clothing track began to descend into the sink for the first set of cleanings to remove all the solutions. After making sure the dress was fully submerged, I pulled off the gloves and began the process of shutting down for the night.

Ensuring the lights were off, I set an alarm on my phone so that I could come back in 6 hours and change the water again. Locking the front door, I moved deeper into the warehouse and into a converted entryway that I had built to connect this warehouse with the one next door that I had renovated into my house upon getting back stateside.

Making my way up to my second floor, I was greeted by my cat sitting on top of her scratch post.

"Hello, Alice." I greeted as I moved into my closet. Before I could do more than kick off my shoes, my phone rang.

I didn't recognize the number, but I answered and said, "Hello?"

"Andrea." the voice that had been tormenting me mentally all day said.

"Miranda.'' I stated.