Now that Miranda had closed the boutique, she found she had a lot of time on her hands, and that was not necessarily a good thing, where Miranda was concerned - at least, not for her family. She'd effectively fixed Sol up with Brynne, though the two might not be aware of it yet, and she was working on updating Rufus' wardrobe, as well as redecorating their bedroom. She had decided that orange was definitely out, and Rufus had flatly vetoed pink. If she didn't find something to fill up some of her spare time - because, honestly, taking care of a husband and one small child wasn't all that taxing for a woman who was accustomed to being busy from dawn to dusk - she was going to drive Rufus straight up the wall. At the moment, she was contemplating redoing the nursery - again - when she had only just finished decorating it a few short months ago.

Rufus, to counter the madness that was his wife with little or nothing to do, had packed Ro up and taken her to the library, leaving Miranda to contemplate the nursery alone for a while. So it was probably just as well that the phone started to ring sooner rather than later.

With a cup of tea in hand, and a stack of decorating books spread out on the table in front of her, it took Miranda a moment to locate the phone, which she was hoping to find before it went to voicemail. With any luck, it wasn't Rufus telling her he was on his way home with Ro already. As much as she adored him, they had both become far too independent over the last twenty years not to drive each other crazy from time to time. She didn't bother to check who the call was from before scrambling to pick up the phone and hit the button that would answer the call.

"Rufus, you only left an hour ago. I'm sure Rowan is fine," she told the caller, assuming it was her husband.

"Not Rufus, really, really not Rufus," was the answer, and given how very feminine and Brooklyn that voice was, it was clearly telling the truth. "Least I know I got the right number. Hey, Miranda."

"Mataya?" Miranda queried, though she recognized that voice without a doubt. She switched hands, taking the phone in her left and her cup of tea in her right. "Is everything okay?" she asked, wondering why the woman would be calling her, of all people, out of the blue. Half a dozen questions entered her mind. Was this a personal or professional call" Was this about the theater or something else? Was it something about Jon or maybe Vicki" Was she finally taking the plunge and hoping Miranda would design her wedding gown" One thing she knew for certain - Mataya De Luca had not just called her to say hello.

"Everything just went tits up," the theater owner informed her in a resigned voice. "Miranda Granger, I need you. Put down the decadently frosted cupcake and break out the pencil and pad, because I am seriously going to stalk you until you say yes."

"I'm ....not eating a cupcake," Miranda said in a confused voice, though now that Mataya had mentioned it, cupcakes sounded like a good idea. A decent business venture, too, but bakeries were a dime a dozen in Rhy'Din. "Until I say yes to what?" she asked further, as curiously as before.

"I want to hire you." There it was. No slow build up, no gentle breaking of the news. Down and dirty, this is what I need. "Two thirds of my costume design department just got poached right out from under me. Literally. Bastard walked in, offered them a worse job with worse pay in a crap little city on Earth, but told them they'd be working exclusively with humans, and they all quit, just like that. I've been sitting on a fascist knitting bee this whole time and I never knew."

"Two thirds?" Miranda echoed, forehead wrinkling in bewilderment. All kinds of weird things had been going on in Rhy'Din lately, ever since that damned election - things that were weirder than usual. Violent things, hateful things, scary things that had even ended up causing her to close up shop for fear of her own life and those of her clients and employees, though she had yet to decide if the closure was temporary or permanent. Rufus hadn't seemed too disappointed with her decision to do it, and she hadn't really looked back. "Mataya, I appreciate the thought, but I'm only one person, not an entire costume department."

"No, seriously, you have to help me," Mataya begged. "You're the only person who might be able to pull this off. Kismet kicks off after the next weekend, and the costumes still need to be fitted, and then two weeks after that, it's a ballet, and no one's started anything on it. The women who stayed are freaking out about getting it all done on time, and I'm seriously about an inch from hiring Azure Ilnaren and paying her parents to look the other way while I turn her into a one-girl sweat-shop."

"Oh, Kismet!" Miranda exclaimed, her brain going in ten different directions there. She reached for a pencil and sketchpad and started sketching out a design for a dress that was reminiscent of Aladdin. But it seemed from what Mataya was telling her that the costumes for that were already done and just needed finishing touches. "What ballet?" she asked, as her hand kept on sketching, even if the costumes for Kismet were mostly finished. She frowned at the mention of Azure Ilnaren. The little girl was talented, but a little young to design an entire ballet all by herself. "Hmm, I have an idea," she mused aloud.

"It's Giselle, and our ballerina hasn't had a full lead before, and she deserves to look stunning ..." Mataya trailed off, realizing that Miranda had actually agreed to what she had yet to put in concrete terms. "An idea" Is that a yes?" she asked hopefully. "I'll do anything. New office, lunch allowance, all the supplies you need, all the new staff you want to hire, all of it. I'll even kiss your shoes whenever I see you if you really want."

Miranda chuckled at the other woman's obvious desperation. "That's hardly necessary, but this might call for drastic measures," she said, as she set the sketch of the harem girl aside and started to work up a sketch of a possible costume for a ballerina peasant girl, and that was just for starters. The costumes for the Wilis were going to prove the bigger challenge. "Do you trust me?" she asked, out of the blue.

"Honey, I stood stark naked in your living room and let you staple bits of fabric to my actual skin," Mataya reminded her with an audible grin. That had been entirely her fault for not making time for the fittings before the Bridal Fashion Show, but it was a funny memory now. "I think it's safe to say that if I can trust you with hot glue around my nipples, I can definitely trust you with my theater."

Miranda smiled, amused by the memory of that. She'd had her misgivings about the bridal show, but it had turned out to be a rousing success. That made her frown a little, as she realized all she was giving up if she told Mataya yes, and yet, at the same time, she welcomed a new challenge and what could be more fun, challenging, and rewarding than designing for the theater" Even wedding gowns got boring after a while. "Are we talking about temporary or permanent employment?" she asked, curiously, unsure if Mataya had heard about the shop's closing.

"Permanent, as long as you want it, the job is yours kind of offer on the table here," Mataya told her confidently. "Jess suggested you might like the challenge, once I got hold of her. You know they only have one damn phone on the Brambles? It's not even in her house!"

He eyed her exuberance for a long moment, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Ro, darling, where did we put that wooden spoon you were drumming with earlier?" he asked the toddler in Miranda's arms. "I feel a sudden urge to drum your Mama's backside with it."

"Don't be silly, Rufus! If you really want to spank me, it can be arranged," she told him, waggling her perfectly-shaped eyebrows at him. "Besides, don't you want a hot pink bathroom?" she teased, as she went to the cupboard to find Rowan a cookie, the toddler balanced against her hip.

"Hot, yes; pink, no," he conceded, shrugging off his coat to hang it on the back of a chair. "You are in disgustingly high spirits," he commented, wrapping an arm about her waist to rest his chin on her shoulder. "I suppose I should save my attempt to cheer you up for another time?"

"Oh, no! Should I pretend to be depressed?" she asked, feigning a frown, though her eyes were bright with mischief. She wasn't sure what he had up his sleeve, but whatever it was, she had a feeling it was probably not something that was going to happen until Rowan was in bed for the night. "I have a lunch date tomorrow," she told him, tapping that finger against his nose again. "Do you think you can handle Rowan for a few hours while I'm out?" she asked, though that went without saying really.

"We'll muddle through," he promised. "But you're not going out until you tell me who you're dating. Because if it's another man, then I am taking that antique velvet box back to the jeweler."

"Well, it is and it isn't," she replied, that teasing gleam in her eyes again. That was only if Mataya's brother counted as "another man". She paused a moment, her expression changing at something he'd said. "Antique velvet box?" she inquired, wondering what he was talking about.

He raised a brow at her, but said no more, preparing to hold that particular secret close to his chest until she stopped teasing him about going to lunch with other men. It wasn't that he didn't trust her - quite the contrary, he trusted her implicitly. It was the city at large he didn't trust, especially not right now. He'd rather know where she was going and with whom than be left to wonder and worry.

Despite her fun at teasing Rufus, she knew he truly worried about her, and there wasn't much point in tormenting him further. She laid a hand against his chest and gave him a reassuring pat. "No worries, Rufus. I'm meeting with Mataya and Tony. She offered me a job at the Shanachie."

"Oh, really?" He looked impressed. "That would certainly be a different challenge for you, angel. Are you going to take the offer, or are you tormenting her to see what happens?" See, even Rufus knew how to tease when the mood took him. Smiling, he pulled Rowan's coat, hat, and mittens off around the fist holding the cookie, moving to hang them, and his own coat, out in the hallway.

"Are you kidding?" she asked as she followed him into the hallway, vaguely aware that Rowan was crunching on the cookie and leaving a trail of crumbs behind them. "It's the opportunity of a lifetime! Of course, I'm taking it! Besides, I'm tired of designing wedding gowns. Everyone wants the same thing. White, beaded, lace, satin ....same old, same old. This will be a real challenge!"

He chuckled, pulling a slender box from inside his coat as he hung it up. It was black velvet, with delicate gold clasps - an antique, indeed. "Well, then, this is well timed," he said cheerfully, tapping it gently off the end of her nose. "I intended to give this to you on Valentine's Day, but there was more work needed on it than I allotted for. So ....here, Miri. In celebration of your new job."

She practically crossed her eyes in order to get a look at what he was tapping against her nose. He hadn't been kidding when he'd mentioned an antique velvet box. "What's this?" she asked, arching a brow at him, curiosity piqued.

"This, love, is something that belonged to my mother," he said quietly. "Something she was never without. I had thought perhaps one day I could give it to Beth or Ro, but it deserves to see the light of day again before then. You deserve it." He reached out, switching Ro for the box, settling the toddler on his hip with a faint smile. Inside the box, nestled on a bed of ivory satin, was a tiny antique locket, heart-shaped and studded with seed pearl about a single ruby. And inside, tiny pictures of Beth and Rowan, to be kept close to her heart.

"Rufus ..." Miranda whispered, as she she lifted the lid to view the contents of the box with a soft gasp of breath. She didn't need him to tell her how much his mother had meant to him, which made his gift all the more precious to her. She carefully drew the locket from the box and opened it to find tiny photos of both their daughters smiling back at her. "Oh, Rufus ....It's lovely," she whispered further, not trusting her voice not to betray her tears.

He smiled as he watched her, knowing she understood how much this one small thing meant to him. He had never been on speaking terms with his father, and didn't even know if the man still lived, but he had been devoted to his mother, and his sister. Gently stroking his thumb against Miranda's cheek, he leaned close to kiss her temple. "You'll always have a piece of us with you, love."

It was his sister who had birthed and raised Taylor, who was Rufus' last living relative. Miranda wished she had met both mother and sister, but at least she had that connection through Rufus and Taylor, and in a way, even Bethany. "Rufus ..." she said again, nuzzling against his chest, letting her tears stain his shirt, like they had so often in the past, but these were mostly happy tears, touched as she was by his gift.

"It was set with an emerald by her mother, when she gave it to her," Rufus told her gently, wrapping his free arm around her back as she nuzzled against him. "I had it set with a ruby for you."

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she told him, words unable to express all she was feeling in that moment. Though he might not always show, she knew his heart better than anyone - she knew him for the loving husband and father that he was, and most of all, she knew he loved her. How could he not, when he'd given up so much to keep her and Bethany safe? "I love you," she told him, once again words failing to express all she was feeling. She surged upwards to reward him with a salty kiss, even as Rowan pawed a crumbly hand at her hair.

He smiled into her kiss, holding her close even as Ro inserted what was left of her now gooey cookie into his collar. He was so used to finding crumbs in strange places these days, he didn't even flinch. "I love you back," he promised Miranda tenderly. "I love all my girls, but you came first."

"Not really, sweetheart. Your mother came first, and then your sister, and I'm so grateful to them for making you who you are," she told him, brushing another tender kiss against his lips for good measure. He had given her so much, and each day spent with him was nothing less than a gift. "I know I don't tell you often enough, but you are an amazing man, Rufus Bennett, and I'm so glad you're mine."

"Good riddance to the lot of them," he growled. He wasn't making a guess at his wife's response; that was his response. Despite the fact that most of his life had been spent dealing with the shadowy side of the supernatural, he had a great deal of respect for other races. The pro-human bollocks in the city had got under his skin, and not just because it had threatened his family. People were people, and as soon as a politician or leader decided to separate people into them and us, all people were in danger.

"Exactly!" Miranda replied. "Cowards, the lot of them. Good riddance, I say. Who needs them, anyway' These next few weeks are going to be busy, but I'm up for the challenge. She has Kismet coming up soon, and Giselle after that. They haven't done a thing about the costumes for Giselle. I need to look through what they've got and see if there's anything we can salvage. The fewer new costumes we have to make, the better. We might be able to get away with some alterations, but Mataya wants something special for the lead ballerina."

"They have that enormous warehouse on the premises, I'm sure they must keep hold of costumes from past performances," he agreed. "Didn't they do Ondine a while back" Some of those might be suitable. And some from that one where the Canadian danced naked in gold body paint."

She giggled at his description of one of the male leads. "His name is Christian," she corrected him. "And he wasn't naked. That was a body suit, you silly man." She got that look in her eyes suddenly that told him she was having mischievous thoughts. "Hmm, maybe you're right. How would you like to model that for me?" she teased, though all she really wanted was to find any excuse to get him into a leotard. "I'm sure you would bulge in all the right places," she added for good measure.

He raised a brow, snorting with laughter. "You couldn't convince me to wear the posing pouch, you're not getting me in that, either," he informed her fondly, squeezing gently once again before letting her go to finish up their tea. "As for my bulges, I like them where they are, thank you very much, not squeezed somewhere god-awful by lycra."

"Party pooper," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him, though she was perfectly content to save the sight of those bulges for herself. If she was ever lucky enough to get him into lycra, she was going to make sure no one was around to see it but her. "The point is, I'm going to be busy for the next few days sorting out what we can salvage and what needs to be made from scratch. Do you think you can handle Rowan while I'm busy at work?" It was a silly question, seeing as he'd been doing just that all the while she'd been busy at the boutique. "I'd like to bring some of the girls from the shop with me, but I'm going to need to rebuild that department from the bottom up."

"If I can't handle her, I can arrange play dates all over the Grove," he promised her fondly, carefully not making a point of saying much he'd learned since Ro had arrived in their lives. "As to your ladies from the shop, why not get yourself confirmed in place, and talk to the ladies who stayed at the theater first' See what they think you need before you start making changes."

"Well, of course!" she replied. She had no intentions of firing those who'd remained on, but she did feel a certain responsibility to the small group of employees she'd left hanging when she'd decided to close the shop, temporarily or otherwise. "You know, I'm gonna have to do something with the boutique. I don't really want to go back there," she told him, frowning a little as she waited for her tea.

"Sell it," he shrugged, passing her cup to her. "I would suggest renting it, but you don't need the continuous income, or the headaches that come with being a commercial landlady. The last thing I want is to take away something that gives you joy, but the joy in your shop is all but gone these days, love. Don't hold onto remnants and let them upset you with their lacking."

"Mmm," she murmured thoughtfully, in reply to his suggestion. He was making perfect sense, but it was hard to let go. Still, she'd dropped everything and departed New York without a second thought or a backwards glance as soon as he'd come back into her life. He was right in that there was no point in hanging onto things that she no longer needed or that only brought her worry. "Do you think I can do it, Rufus, or am I biting off more than I can chew" Honestly." It was to his credit that she not only cared about his opinion but valued and asked for it.

"Honestly?" He considered her for a moment. "I think you will find it a struggle for the first few months, but I think you will appreciate that struggle more than you will resent it. And as it gets easier to bear, you'll find new ways to challenge yourself in the context of this new area. After all, at this moment, you have no experience of creating clothing that someone can change into and out of in the dark in about two minutes, that will also not come undone or slip off while on stage. That one will be fun to watch you figure out."

She winced at the thought of that; it was something she hadn't yet considered. "Eww, you're right. I can't risk any costume failures." She sighed, almost wishing she'd taken a course or two in theater while in college. Now she was going to have to take a crash course in a matter of a few days. Then again, there would be plenty of people to help her along the way.

"Of course, you do know someone who has designed for the theater," he pointed out, watching her to see if the penny was going to drop any time soon. "Not costumes, no, but she knows the way it all works. And she'd probably jump at the chance to spend an hour or two away from her crazy home life."

"Who?" she asked, furrowing her pretty forehead at him before the penny finally dropped. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a chuckle at her own stupidity. "Vicki!" She frowned. "But she took a leave of absence from the theater to focus on her family. I'm not so sure she'd be willing to jump back in with four children under the age of, well, four."

"So don't get her to jump back in," he said with a low chuckle. "Why not just ask for her advice" Ask her who to talk to if you need to get things done. Ask her all the little things a designer in a theater needs to know, and I'm sure she'll have plenty of answers for you."

"I suppose," Miranda replied thoughtfully. After all, it couldn't hurt to talk to Vicki and ask her for advice and maybe a little help. The worst she could say was no, and Miranda could benefit from her experience. "I'll call her tomorrow after I get back from my meeting with Mataya."

"That's my girl." He smiled at her, taking a slow sip of his tea. "I'm proud of you, Miri. Not many people would leap feet first into something they have only a passing knowledge of, but I'm certain you can do this. You can do anything when you set your mind to it."

It was true, she'd accomplished so many things she'd never thought possible, but her most important accomplishment - the one that meant the most to her - was standing right in front of her. She smiled at the thought of that and reached for his cup of tea to set it down on the counter so she could kiss him without risking him spilling it. "True, I did snag you, didn't I?" she asked, sliding her arms around waist and looking up into that handsome face of his.