The usual disclaimers here.

A Moment Too Late

by

Jan

Maxwell Sheffield sat at his desk shuffling through a stack of contracts. He was swamped with the details of getting his next Broadway production on the stage, and, as usual, there were a million things to do. He had been working from morning until night the last few weeks, hardly taking a break. Whenever he did, though, his thoughts went immediately to her. He reached into his desk drawer and took out her picture. As he traced the outline of her cheek with his fingertip, he thought about how good it felt to hold her in his arms. "Well, there’s going to be a lot more of that from now on," he told himself. He was done with fantasizing about holding her, kissing her, feeling her arms around his neck. He knew it was time to act on the feelings that had been overwhelming him for some time.

He never meant to fall in love with her—had tried his damnedest not to, really. But she had crept her way into his heart with her vivacity, her irreverence, her passion for life. The way she had instantly captured his children’s hearts and the way she loved them with her whole heart and soul—it was all just too much for him. In spite of their differences, in spite of the guilt he felt over his beautiful Sara, in spite of everything, he had fallen hard. He looked at her picture again. Those sparkling brown eyes, that alluring body, and that smile—oh, my God, that smile that sent his head reeling and his heart into overdrive. He had tried his best to maintain their professional relationship, but she had simply overwhelmed him. She had made him fall in love with her, and now all he could do was relish the feeling and thank God every day that she had come into his life and single-handedly brought joy back to him and his family.

He had been so in love with her for such a long while now, but something had always held him back before. A fear of something—but of what? It wasn’t a question of whether or not he loved her or how much—that was a given. But, did she love him back? After all, she had never really come out and told him. Could he count on her to never leave him? Did he complete her life as much as she completed his? It was time to put those nagging questions aside and take the leap. He had to tell her that he loved her more than he could ever imagine loving anyone. He wanted her to know, wanted everyone to know, wanted to shout it from the rooftops! But first, he had to tell her.

He winced as he thought back over the missed opportunities. The many times he had almost said it. His mind conjured up an image of the hurt in her eyes every time he had let one of those opportunities slip by. Maxwell rubbed his eyes trying to dispel that painful vision. Why hadn’t he said it when she accused him of jealousy outside that hotel room in Atlantic City? He had started to, but then that stupid question about Gracie’s drag queen babysitter came out of his mouth. She had stomped off before he could say anything else. And why had Maggie walked in just as he was about to tell her why she shouldn’t go out with that professor Steve? Just as he was about to say, "Because I love you and you’re mine!" Once again, he had used the children as an excuse. Well, no more of that. "Fran, I love you," he practiced out loud to her picture. God, it felt so good to say it. He would not pass up the next opportunity. In fact, he was going to create the next one. There was an important backers’ party at a downtown restaurant tomorrow night. He would ask her to accompany him to help charm some rich old coots out of their money. Then afterwards they would stop at a romantic little bistro he knew. Over drinks he would tell her everything his heart had been feeling. He pictured the look on her face and smiled. He knew she was ready to hear it, and now he was ready to say it. "I love you, my darling," he said one more time to her picture before slipping it back into the drawer.

As if on cue, there was a light knock at the door and she came breezing in. "Mr. Sheffield, ya got a minute?"

His mouth fell open when he got a look at the short baby blue skirt and midriff top she was wearing. "Of course, Miss Fine, what do you need?" he said trying to compose himself. "Oh, God," he thought, "please don’t let her come around here and sit on the corner of my desk in that outfit. I won’t be able to say a coherent word."

Seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on him, Fran marched right around his desk and hopped up on the corner of it. "You’re not going to believe this. Brighton says he’s dropping French next semester. He says he’d rather take an extra study hall. Now I’m sure you remember how hard we all worked to help Brighton pass his first semester of French, you know, hiring a tutor and all . . ."

"Ahem, uh, yes, Miss Fine. I don’t believe we need to be reminded of the philandering French tutor Philippe. It’s a wonder Brighton learned anything at all from that cad. But Brighton has become quite proficient at French. I hate to see him give it up. All right, I’ll talk to him. Is there anything else?"

"No, that’s all, unless there’s anything you’d like to talk to me about," she said as she leaned toward him, flashing him that million-dollar smile and looking expectantly into his eyes.

"As a matter of fact, there is, Miss Fine. I have an important business engagement tomorrow evening, and I could really use your help. C.C. has arranged a backers’ party at Benson’s, and I was hoping you would agree to come along and use your charms to help me win over some potential backers. What do you say?"

Fran paused for a few seconds with a quizzical look on her face. "Now, let me get this straight. You want me to actually talk to these people? Ya mean, like, have a conversation with them?"

"That’s right." Then he thought to himself, "Oh, no, she’s going to guess that something is up. I’m usually telling her to keep her mouth shut around those people."

Fran looked at him curiously for another moment. She thought to herself, "I wonder what’s up with this. He’s usually telling me to keep my mouth shut around those people. Maybe he’s got more in mind than schmoozing rich people. Maybe he’s ready to—oh well, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. But this is the closest he’s come to asking me out since that Elton John fiasco. Better go for it." Her face lit up as she said, "Sure, I’d love to. What time should I be ready?"

"Eight o’clock," he said smiling and trying not to let his relief show in his voice. Fran hopped off his desk and turned to walk out of his office. "And wear something smashing!" he called after her.

"Naturally!" she tossed back over her shoulder. Maxwell beamed. He could hardly wait until tomorrow night.

Fran and Max made small talk in the limo the next night on their way to the restaurant. He had barely recovered his breath after watching her come down the stairway in that silver green dress with the plunging neckline. Her hair was pulled up softly off her neck, and small curls cascaded down. Tiny tendrils framed her beautiful face. He couldn’t help staring at the way her silver earrings dangled, just brushing her neck right where he longed to place soft kisses.

The limo pulled up to the front door of the restaurant and they stepped out. She slipped her arm through his as they walked through the door and followed the maitre d’ who led them upstairs to the private dining room reserved for the party. Max thoroughly enjoyed the admiring looks all the men gave Fran as they passed by.

"Sheffield!" someone called as they stepped into the room. "Great party!" Max beamed and started shaking hands all around. He spotted C.C. across the room and waved to her. She had arrived early to be there to greet the first guests. Max led Fran to their table and introduced her to several people.

After they were seated, Max called the waiter over. "Would you like anything, Miss Fine?" Max asked gallantly.

"Um, anything?" she asked mischievously.

"I meant to drink," he said, amused and definitely getting her drift. He thought to himself, "Little does she know that in a few hours . . ."

"You order for me."

"Two champagne cocktails, please," he told the waiter.

Their drinks appeared almost immediately. "Miss Fine, I must say you look absolutely stunning tonight. Thank you so much for coming with me." He smiled and looked into her eyes. Suddenly Max’s attention veered to a man he saw standing across the room. "You know I’d love to sit here with you all evening, but this is a backers’ party, and I really must work the room. I see Elston Manning over there. He’s a big fish, and I’ve got to try to land him. Please excuse me, Miss Fine. I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can. In the meantime, feel free to mingle and enjoy yourself." With that, Max got up and disappeared into the crowd.

For the next hour or so, Fran had fun chatting with a group of wives near her table. She even got up and walked around introducing herself here and there, telling everyone who would listen what a great producer Mr. Sheffield was and working the phrase "surefire hit" into the conversation as often as possible. But after a while, she began to grow a bit tired and started looking around for Mr. Sheffield. She spotted him across the room wrapped up in a conversation with some gray-haired geezer and tried to catch his attention. He glanced at her briefly, but went right on with what he was saying to the old guy. She sighed resignedly and sat back down at the table.

She had been hoping that there would be more to this evening than what had been offered so far. She was thinking that Mr. Sheffield had an ulterior motive for wanting her to be with him tonight. After all, he was always scared to death she would say the wrong thing to his high-class cronies, so she thought it unlikely that he had invited her solely for her schmoozing abilities. But now, it looked as though that was exactly what was going on because he had ignored her for most of the evening. She sighed, starting to come to terms with the realization that it wasn’t going to happen tonight and was likely never going to happen for her and Mr. Sheffield. She started glancing around the room, scoping it out for any good-looking, eligible men. "Hmm," she thought to herself, "I wonder if any of these rich guys are single."

Across the room, Maxwell kept glancing over Elston Manning’s shoulder to watch Fran. He could hardly keep his mind on what the old guy was saying about investments and returns and whatnot as he had watched her moving about the room, chatting with guests, throwing her head back in that husky laugh, and reaching out to place her hand on someone’s arm. Now he spotted her sitting alone at the table looking bored and felt an overwhelming urge to go to her. God, she was gorgeous, and he loved her so much. He thought his heart would explode if he didn’t tell her how he felt about her within the next few minutes. The sooner he got away from this talking head, the sooner she would be in his arms.

"I’ll tell you what, Elston. I’ll call your office first thing Monday morning and we can work out the details," Max said shaking the man’s hand while pushing past him. He had made three quick strides toward Fran when Elston Manning stopped him.

"One more thing, Sheffield." As Max turned to face him with forced politeness, Manning said, "I think I might have a couple of business associates who’d be interested in investing. You don’t mind if I give them your card, do you?"

While Max fumbled in his pocket for a couple of business cards, Fran turned and looked up into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. "Mind if I join you?"

"Please," she said as she motioned toward the empty chair. Remembering her promise to be charming to all the potential backers, she flashed a brilliant smile and held out her hand. "I’m Fran Fine."

"John Michaels. It’s a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand in his for a moment, and Fran felt a small surge at his touch. He sat down and pulled his chair closer to her.

"So, did you just get here?" Fran asked. I don’t believe I saw you earlier."

"Yes, I got held up at the hospital. I’m a doctor at St. Paul’s."

Fran thought, "Oh, my gosh! A doctor! Ma would plotz!"

"So, what do you know about this play I’m supposed to invest in?"

"Well, it’s being produced by a wonderful producer, Maxwell Sheffield, and it’s going to be a surefire hit!" gushed Fran.

"Hmm," said John, hiding a slight grin. "That sounded a little rehearsed. Are you one of the actresses in the play?"

Across the room, Maxwell slapped a couple of business cards into Elston Manning’s hand and turned around just in time to see Fran throw her head back and let out one of her throaty laughs. Then he saw the man who had inspired the laugh, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Damn! It looked as though she was charming the pants off the guy. Max couldn’t interrupt—the guy might fork over a hefty investment. Max was dying to whisk Fran away to that romantic bistro and tell her everything that he had been holding inside. He would say that he loved her so much he couldn’t put it into words, that he wanted her by his side always, that he couldn’t imagine his life without her and that he would never, ever take anything back again.

"Where did that guy come from?" Max wondered. "Only a moment before, she was sitting alone at the table. If that guy Manning hadn’t asked for those stupid business cards, she and I would be on our way to the bistro right now," Maxwell mumbled to himself.

The only thing for Max to do at that point was to go over to the bar and order a drink while Fran worked her charms on that guy at her table. He’d give it a few minutes and then, just as their conversation was winding down, Max would saunter over and introduce himself. He’d chat with the guy for a few minutes so as not to be rude, and then he and Fran would be on their way. He knew tonight would be the night that changed their lives, and he was ready to get things moving.

Over at the table, Fran was thinking, "Man, is this guy gorgeous, or what?" He was tall and tan with thick brown hair that fell back in waves and golden carmel streaks through it. And that smile was blinding. "He must work out—check out those muscles! Six-one? Six-two? And those eyes—just like Mr. Sheffield’s," she thought, "only greener."

"No, I’m not an actress," she said almost shyly. "Actually, I work for Mr. Sheffield."

"Lucky guy," John said, staring transfixed at her.

For the next fifteen minutes, Fran and John were deep in conversation, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Maxwell was watching from the bar, wondering what they were talking about that could to be so engaging. Not once during that time did Fran even look around for him.

At last, John said, "So is this play any good?"

"Actually, I have no idea," Fran laughed.

"Well, you’ve convinced me. Who do I make the check out to?"

Fran thought to herself, "Mmm. Good-looking and charming!"

John said, "You know, Fran, I’m not really up for this big crowd tonight. Would you like to go some place a little quieter and have a drink?"

Fran hesitated. She looked around the room for Mr. Sheffield, but she couldn’t spot him anywhere. "Probably off schmoozing another investor," she thought. "Well, I don’t know . . . I would need to let Mr. Sheffield know I was leaving." Just then Maxwell appeared at their table. "Oh, here he is now," Fran said brightly.

"Good," thought Max, "they’ve been talking about me."

John stood up and extended his hand. Fran introduced them. "John, this is my boss, Maxwell Sheffield, the play’s producer. Mr. Sheffield, this is Dr. John Michaels. He’s decided to invest in your play."

"Marvelous!" beamed Max, shaking John’s hand vigorously. Then thinking to himself, "Well, I guess the time I gave her to charm this guy was well worth it."

Max said, "Well, John, what would you like to know about the play?" He pulled up a chair and started to sit down.

"Actually, Max, Fran and I were just leaving, if that’s all right with you. You can fill me in on the details later."

Max looked at Fran stunned. "Leaving, Miss Fine?"

"You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Sheffield? It looks like you have plenty of schmoozing to keep you busy the rest of the evening."

"Yes, well, um, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Can’t it wait until morning?" Fran asked as she and John stood up gathering their things.

Just then C.C. came up to Maxwell and grabbed his arm. "There you are, Maxwell. I’ve got Harry Wellston cornered over here, and I just about have him hooked. Get over here now and reel him in!" C.C. gave a firm tug on Max’s arm.

"All right, C.C., I’ll be right there." Then turning back to Fran, Max said resignedly, "Of course, Miss Fine. Have a nice time. I’ll talk to you in the morning." He stood there astounded watching Fran and John leave.

Fran and John waited outside the restaurant for the valet to bring John’s Jag around. He reached down and took her hand in his. "He’s got a doctor’s hands," Fran thought. "Strong and sure, but gentle at the same time."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I know this quiet little bistro not too far from here," he said.

The valet pulled up. John opened the door of the Jag for Fran, and she got in. As he was walking around the car, Fran had a sudden fleeting thought of Mr. Sheffield. "What am I doing here?" she asked herself. John got in and flashed her a brilliant smile as he dropped the car into gear. She felt her heart do a little flip-flop. "I know exactly what I’m doing here! I’m going out for a drink with a gorgeous doctor!"

At the bistro, Fran and John sat at a quiet little corner table. Talking over their drinks, they wanted to learn everything about each other. John told her that he had grown up on Long Island, gone to Harvard Medical School, and done his residency at Boston General. When the opportunity to come back home to New York had presented itself, he had grabbed it. Now he was in line to become chief of pediatrics at St. Paul’s. He loved hiking in the mountains, eating lobster, and Lenny Kravitz’ music. He confessed that he had dated a lot, but had only had a couple of serious relationships. The last girl, Amanda, he thought he was in love with, but he came to find out that she didn’t share his dreams for the future—marriage, children, and life-long love.

Fran told him about growing up in Flushing and all about her family. She related some of the funny things she and Val had done. She told him about how she had come to work for Mr. Sheffield and about how much she loved Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie. She confessed she’d do almost anything to snag a bargain at Loehmann’s or dig into a giant dish of Haagen Dazs.

"And what about your love life? I confessed all my past indiscretions," he prodded her.

"I thought I was in love with Danny, my ex-fiance, but I figured out that wasn’t real love. I’ve dated a lot, but it never seems to work out. You wouldn’t believe some of the weirdos I’ve gone out with! I guess I’m still waiting for the right guy to declare his undying love for me." An image of Mr. Sheffield appeared in her mind. She thought, "How much longer am I gonna have to wait, Maxwell Sheffield?"

John looked at her intently as if trying to read what was in her eyes. "And now?"

"And now what?" she asked, trying not to look directly at him.

"Is there anyone in your life now?"

"Yes. Sort of. It’s complicated." She sighed heavily.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. Would you like another drink?"

"No, I have to get up early in the morning to take Brighton to the eye doctor. I really have to be getting home." John paid the check and they left. When the Jag pulled up in front of the Sheffield mansion, John turned off the key and turned to Fran.

"Fran, I really want to see you again. This evening turned out better than I ever imagined it would. Can I see you tomorrow night? We can go wherever you like."

Fran hesitated for a moment. She really felt a connection to this guy, but she also knew she really loved Maxwell Sheffield. But could she really afford to pass up opportunities like this when it looked as though Mr. Sheffield was never going to make a commitment to her? Just how much longer did she have to wait for him? "I . . ."

John spoke up. "Look, obviously you’re torn. All I’m asking for is a chance. I’ll call you tomorrow. You can think about it and let me know then." Fran gave him her number.

John walked her to the front door. He picked up her hand, brought it gently to his lips and kissed it. "Fran, I’m so glad we met tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," she said. She stood there and watched him get into his Jag and drive away. Her thoughts all in a jumble, she went inside hoping Mr. Sheffield was still up. Maybe she would just go to him and say, "Look, this doctor I met tonight asked me out on a date. Can you give me any reason I shouldn’t go out with him?" As she took off her coat and hung it up in the closet, she heard someone in the kitchen. "Oh, good," she thought. "I’m just going to go in there, lay it on the line, and see what he says."

Fran walked into the kitchen and saw Niles fixing himself a midnight snack. "Oh, hello, Miss Fine. How was your evening?" he said.

Disappointed, Fran said, "Confusing. Is Mr. Sheffield still up?"

"He’s not home yet. I guess there were lots of backers to schmooze," said Niles, puzzled as to why they hadn’t come home together.

"Yeah, I guess. Goodnight, Niles," Fran sighed as she trudged up the back stairs.

Twelve blocks away, John Michaels walked through the front door of his own mansion. His butler greeted him at the door. "How was your evening, sir?"

John was smiling. "Congratulate me, Davis. I met the girl of my dreams tonight. She’s beautiful and charming—you’re going to love her! She’s the future Mrs. John Michaels."

"Congratulations, sir," said Davis, a bit surprised. His employer was not usually so impulsive.

An hour later, Maxwell Sheffield came through the door of his house. "God, what an evening!" he said out loud. This group of backers tonight had been particularly tough. The mingling and the schmoozing had taken a lot of effort, considering his mind was on Miss Fine the whole time. He had decided to wait up for her so they could have that very important conversation. He wasn’t sure how she’d take his declaration of undying love at 1:30 in the morning, but it had been postponed long enough. Also, he was desperate to find out why she had left with that guy and where they had gone. He couldn’t believe she had just left like that. Couldn’t she see the pleading look on his face? Couldn’t she tell by his voice that he really didn’t want her to go?

He opened the closet to put away his coat and saw the jacket she had been wearing hanging there. He realized she was already home and probably asleep. Should he wake her? No, that was crazy. He had told her it could wait until morning. He trudged up the stairs thinking that the day that would change their lives forever would have to wait until tomorrow.

Fran came into the dining room the next morning with her characteristic, "Good morning, everyone!" as she threw her arms into the air. Maxwell looked up and was surprised to see her dressed instead of in her usual fuzzy robe and slippers.

"Going somewhere, Miss Fine?" he asked. What he really wanted to say was, "Where the hell did you go last night?" but thought better of bringing it up in front of the children.

"Yes, Brighton’s got an appointment with the eye doctor this morning," she said as Niles filled her plate at the sideboard. She sat down and began scooping her usual three spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee.

As Niles set Fran’s plate in front of her, Gracie piped up, "Fran, I really need some help on my history project that’s due tomorrow. Will you help me with it tonight?"

Fran thought of John and said, "Sure, sweetie, but we’ll have to work on it right after school because I might have plans later in the evening."

Max’s head snapped up. "What plans, Miss Fine?" It came out sharper than he meant it to.

Fran looked at Max with her eyebrows raised. "Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Sheffield, but I might be going out later," she said slightly perturbed. She thought back to last night’s party where he had, once again, put his work before her. Fran wondered how he had the nerve to question her about how she spent her personal time. Max made a point of staring intently at his plate while pushing his uneaten eggs around.

The rest of the breakfast conversation consisted of Gracie chit-chatting about her history project and Maggie and Brighton asking their dad for money. Max was dying to talk to Fran about where she had gone last night and where she was going tonight, but knew he needed to wait until he could talk to her privately. Fran finished her breakfast and started to get up when Maxwell said, "Miss Fine, could I see you in my office before you leave?"

"Sorry, Mr. Sheffield, no time. Brighton and I are going to have to hurry as it is."

"Then after you get back?"

"Ok, but I told Yetta I’d come visit her today. I’m not sure when I’ll be back."

Max tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. Didn’t she realize how important it was that he talk to her? "Well, I would really appreciate it if you could spare me a few moments some time today."

"All right. I should be home by 1:00. Come on, Brighton, get your jacket," said Fran as they all left the dining room. Maxwell blew out a long, exasperated breath as he headed into his office.

As Fran and Brighton sat waiting in the doctor’s office, Fran’s cell phone rang. "Hello?" she said. A warm smile spread across her face as she recognized the voice on the other end. She lowered her voice and said, "Oh, hi, John. Yes, I can talk now."

John said, "Fran, I know it’s pretty early, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I can’t stop thinking about you."

Fran sighed. "I had a great time last night too." Brighton looked at her curiously.

"I know this wonderful Chinese restaurant and I’d love to take you there tonight," said John. "Do you like Chinese?"

"Are you kidding?" Fran said laughing. Then she thought for a moment and said, "John, I need a little time yet. Can I call you later?" She didn’t know why she felt it necessary to talk with Mr. Sheffield first, but she just couldn’t bring herself to accept John’s invitation yet.

"Sure," said John. "I’m really hoping you’ll say yes." Fran took out a piece of paper and wrote down John’s cell phone number. "Bye for now," he said.

"Good-bye," said Fran, closing her phone.

"I thought you went out with dad last night," said Brighton. "Who’s John?" "None of your bees wax, mister," replied Fran. Just then the nurse called Brighton’s name and he got up to follow her down the hall.

Fran took advantage of the time alone to try to make a decision about going out with John. He was so handsome and charming, and she felt they had really made a connection. He was just the kind of guy she would normally have jumped at going out with. And he seemed so normal! Of course, all the others had seemed that way at first, too, until she’d found out something weird about them. She felt compelled to pursue this one to find out if he was as normal as he appeared. But why did she feel a need to check with Mr. Sheffield before accepting a date with John? It wasn’t as though she needed Maxwell Sheffield’s permission to go out with anyone. And he certainly couldn’t claim that they had "an understanding" right now. In fact, their relationship, whatever it was, appeared to her to be on hold, maybe even dead in the water. She recalled asking him a few weeks ago if there was any reason she shouldn’t go out with Maggie’s professor. He had told her it would upset Maggie. Well, Maggie didn’t even know John, so that couldn’t be a problem. Mr. Sheffield certainly hadn’t been sending her any signals that he wanted their relationship to move forward. But he did seem a little disappointed when she left the party last night. Then it struck her—"That must be what he wanted to talk to me about! Seeing me with John last night must have made him jealous. Maybe he’s ready to apologize for taking back ‘the thing’!" she thought. "He’s finally ready to tell me he loves me and not take it back, and I asked if it could wait until morning! I’m such a yutz!"

Fran couldn’t stop smiling. "I think this could be it!" she thought. She was almost afraid to get her hopes up again—they had been crushed so many times in the past. But she couldn’t help it. She really loved Mr. Sheffield, but she didn’t think she could wait for him much longer. "Oh, my gosh," she thought. "I told Yetta I’d come see her today. Oh, well, I’ll just make it a quick visit. It’s not like she’ll know the difference anyway. Then I’ll get home and talk to Mr. Sheffield and find out what it is he wants to tell me."

Just then Brighton came back into the waiting room and noticed that Fran was looking lost in thought and was all smiles. He thought to himself that this John guy must have said something on the phone to make her really happy.

As the two of them left the doctor’s office, Brighton said, "Fran, I forgot a book at home that I need for school today."

Fran said, "That’s ok, B. Have the limo swing you back by the house on your way to school. I’ll take a cab and go see Yetta." She gave him a quick hug and turned around and yelled, "Yoo-hoo!" at the approaching taxi.

When Brighton got home, he ran upstairs to get the book and then decided to grab a snack before heading back to school. He walked into the kitchen to find Niles and C.C. exchanging barbs. He grabbed an apple and took a bite when his dad came into the kitchen.

"Oh, Brighton, how did things go at the eye doctor?" said Max.

"Fine," he replied. "Dr. Clark said I don’t need my prescription changed for now."

"Good. Listen, Brighton, I’m concerned about what Miss Fine tells me about you wanting to drop French. You know, to get into any worthwhile college, you need three years of a foreign language. Don’t you think it would be foolish to give it up now?"

"Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, Dad, and you’re right. I shouldn’t drop it. Besides, Julie’s in that class, so I guess I’ll stick it out another semester."

"Well, as long as you’re doing it for the right reason," smirked Max.

Brighton started to walk out of the kitchen but then stopped. "Oh, by the way, Dad, who’s this John Fran was talking to on her cell phone? She looked pretty happy when he called. Don’t you think you should be just a little bit worried?" Niles and C.C. suddenly got interested in the conversation between Brighton and Max.

Maxwell stiffened noticeably and then tried to act casual. "John? Oh, just some chap that was at the backers’ party last night. Nice enough fellow."

"Better watch out, Dad!" Brighton teased as he was leaving the kitchen. "She sure was smiling a lot while they were talking."

"Damn!" thought Maxwell. "Why in the hell was that John Michaels calling his Fran?" Then he noticed Niles and C.C. staring at him. "Do you think we might all get a little work done around here?" he snapped. Niles quickly began cleaning as Max turned around and stomped into his office with C.C. right behind him.

Max and C.C. got right to work. Their next production was opening in only a few short weeks. After an hour, C.C. suddenly exclaimed, "Maxwell, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said!"

"What? Oh, sorry, C.C. I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind today."

"Well, I’ve got to go meet with the costumers anyway. See if you can get anything done about the choreographer." Then she left.

Maxwell tried to keep his mind on work, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what he was going to say to Miss Fine. It was nearly 1:00, and she would soon be back. Up until this moment, he had been so sure of what he was going to tell her. "Fran, I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you." Then he would pour all the love that had been building for the last five years into a kiss that would knock her off her feet. But now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should wait and see if she said anything about this doctor she met last night. Max would love to know what they talked about on the phone this morning, but was it really any of his business? Damn right, it was! She was his, and he had a right to know what some other man was saying to her. Well, she wasn’t his quite yet.

Just then he heard her voice coming down the hall. She walked through his office door and came to stand in front of his desk, leaning over it and flashing him one of those smiles. Trying to be casual, he asked, "So how’s Yetta?"

"She’s fine. Same as usual. Mr. Sheffield, you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Um, yes, Miss Fine." Well, he couldn’t just blurt out, "Forget that doctor! I love you!" So, instead, he said, "Did you have a nice time last evening?" hoping she’d explain about leaving with John Michaels.

"Oh, yes, I had a very nice time. I met some really great people and really enjoyed myself." She thought she could detect a hint of jealousy in Max’s eyes when she mentioned meeting some "great people" last night. She thought to herself that this just might be working, so she decided to press things a bit. "Did you have a good time?" she asked, hoping he’d say he was miserable after she had left.

Not wanting to admit too much before knowing her feelings about that doctor, Max answered, "Well, you know, those affairs are always more work than they are pleasure. After all, it was just a backers’ party."

The smile left Fran’s face and she thought to herself, "Yeah, just a backers’ party. Why don’t you just come out and say, ‘It was just work, and you are just my employee and will never be anything more’?" She sighed and her shoulders sagged a little as she said, "So is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" trying to remain pleasant.

"Um, uh, I, uh, wanted to let you know that I spoke with Brighton and convinced him to continue with French next semester," Max stammered.

"Oh, that’s good. Anything else?" She was ready to get out of his office.

Max hesitated. There certainly was something else. What about this John Michaels? Why did she leave with him last night? Where did the two of them go? What were they talking about on the phone this morning? More importantly, is she really ready to hear the words I’m dying to say to her? All these questions were assaulting Maxwell’s brain at once, but he simply said, "No, I guess that’s all."

"Fine," Fran said as she turned to walk out of his office. "By the way, I’m going out tonight."

At seven o’clock that evening, Fran came down the stairs wearing a spaghetti strap dress that was so short she knew she’d have to be careful sitting down in it. The soft yellow color really set off her dark hair and eyes. Her hair fell in large soft curls that framed her face. Niles came into the foyer at the same time. His eyebrows shot up when he saw her. "Whoa! May I assume you’re not going out with Val tonight, Miss Fine?" he said knowingly.

"That’s right, Niles. It’s a guy I met last night at the backer’s party. His name is John Michaels, and he’s a doctor."

"Does Mr. Sheffield know who you’re going out with?"

"I don’t know. Like he cares, anyway."

"Oh, Miss Fine, when are you two going to stop playing these ridiculous games?"

"We stopped playing them today, Niles. The games and everything else between us are over."

"But, Miss Fine, you know as well as I that you two—" Just then the doorbell rang and Niles stopped what he was saying to walk over and answer it. John came in and his eyes lit up when he saw Fran. She walked over to greet him at the door.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello. You look gorgeous," he said, kissing her on the cheek. Fran introduced John and Niles as she took her coat out of the closet. John held it for her while she put it on.

"Niles, please tell Mr. Sheffield I might be late," said Fran, and they left.

Max had been working in his office all afternoon. He really hadn’t got much work done because he couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Fine going out with that doctor. He had finally come to the realization, though, that there really shouldn’t be much to worry about. "How long did she date that professor? Two days? This one probably won’t last much longer." He got up and walked into the living room. "Niles, was that the doorbell I heard?"

"Yes, sir, Miss Fine’s date."

"Oh, of course. John Michaels, was it? Nice enough fellow—I met him last night."

Niles looked at him curiously. "If you’ll forgive me for saying so, sir, aren’t you the least bit worried?"

"Of course I’m worried about Miss Fine dating a rich, handsome doctor!" Max confessed. "But after all, Niles. How many men has Miss Fine dated over the last four and a half years?"

"Too many to count, sir."

"And how many of those relationships worked out?"

"I get your point, sir."

Fran and John had a wonderful time together that night. They went to see Sunset Boulevard, an Andrew Lloyd Webber production. Fran felt a little guilty, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of going to a play produced by Mr. Sheffield’s arch rival or because of going with someone other than Mr. Sheffield. Still, it was a fantastic production, and they both loved it. Afterward, they went to Foo Lee’s, the Chinese restaurant John had told her about on the phone.

"You were so right about this place, John," Fran said. "The pork lo mein is to die for! Wanna bite?"

"No thank you. I don’t eat pork. I’m Jewish," he told her.

"Oh, my God! My mother just had an urge to jump for joy and she doesn’t know why."

"Fran, you have such a way of making me laugh," John said, his eyes crinkling.

They talked for hours over dinner, dessert and drinks. They were so eager to learn everything about each other, and the more they learned, the more they wanted to know. John loved the way she got so excited over everything and how she threw herself wholeheartedly into the things she did. Fran loved his easy, open manner and his natural warmth.

It became very late, but neither wanted the evening to end. Finally, at 2:30, Fran couldn’t keep her eyelids from drooping. "I’ve got to get you home," he said, opening the car door for her. "Good thing I don’t have early rounds in the morning." When they pulled up in front of the Sheffield mansion, John turned to her and said, "Fran, this was a great evening, but I think any evening with you would be great."

"It was special, wasn’t it?" she said.

Looking at each other, they both felt a force drawing them together until their lips touched. Their first kiss was soft and sweet and tender, and neither of them could break it apart for the longest time. When they finally did, they both felt light-headed. John swallowed hard and said, "Tomorrow night?"

"Ok," was all Fran could manage. He walked her to the front door and kissed her again. She felt as though she were literally floating through the door and up to her room.

They went out again the next night. They strolled through one of the little shopping areas, looking in windows and dipping into and out of little shops. John insisted on buying her a pretty little bracelet that had caught her eye. She squealed when he put it on her wrist outside the shop. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. What started out as quick thank-you suddenly turned passionate as the emotions they brought out in each other came in a flood. They stood there making out like love-struck teenagers in the middle of the sidewalk.

Every night that week, they went out, anxious to explore new worlds together and eager to discover more and more about each other. The evening of their fourth date, Fran was running a bit late. She couldn’t get her hair quite high enough. John was waiting patiently in the foyer chatting with Niles when Max came in from the kitchen.

"Oh, hello, John," said Max a bit stiffly while extending his hand.

"Max," said John, shaking hands with him. "Say, thanks for sending over the information on your new play. It really looks great—a sound investment, I’m sure."

Maxwell brightened visibly as a smile lit up his face. "Glad you think so, John. I’ll have to agree with you—this one looks like a surefire hit!"

"Hmm—surefire hit. That’s the phrase Fran used that first got my interest."

Max thought to himself, "Interest in what? My play or the woman I love?" Then Max declared in his most charming tone, "Well, Miss Fine has always been a most ardent supporter of my work."

Just then Fran appeared at the top of the stairs. "Are you two talking about me?" she said coyly. The two men turned simultaneously and stared drop-jawed at the vision descending before them. Her soft lavender dress fit snugly in all the right places and her hair was swept up softly off her neck with curls cascading down her back. Anyone observing might think a beautiful princess was coming to choose between two handsome suitors. At the last step, Fran went directly into John’s waiting embrace. He kissed her softly on the cheek and put her wrap around her shoulders. "Goodnight, Mr. Sheffield," she said without looking back at him as they slipped out the front door.

"Have a wonderful evening," Max said. He watched the door close after them and let go a deep, ragged sigh.

One night as Fran was getting ready to go out with John, he called. "Honey, I’m going to have to cancel tonight. An emergency with a patient. I’ll call you later," he said hurriedly and hung up. Disappointed, Fran took off her dress and put on some comfy lounging pants and a t-shirt. She took down her hair, brushed it out and pulled it back in a ponytail.

She went downstairs and picked out a movie to watch. There was no one around to watch it with her, so she could watch whatever she wanted. Maggie was out on a date and Brighton was at the movies with friends. Gracie had gone to spend the night with one of her classmates, and it was Niles’ night off. She thought about calling her mom, but she knew Sylvia would just grill her about John, and she wasn’t ready to tell her any of the details yet. The relationship was too new to be analyzed. She had told her mom about John—that he was a doctor and that he was Jewish. Recalling Sylvia’s reaction to just those two bits of information kept Fran from wanting to divulge more.

"What kind of doctor? What temple does he belong to? Does he want children?" Fran shuddered at the thought of what Sylvia might say if she knew how Fran was starting to feel about John. "Do you love him already? What’s his mother like? What does his father do? What about Mr. Sheffield?"

"What about Mr. Sheffield?" she thought to herself. She didn’t know the answers to some of those questions, and she wasn’t up to trying to explain them to anyone else, especially her mother. "How would I explain the status of my relationship with Mr. Sheffield?" she wondered. He had been pleasant, but distant since their conversation in his office last week. She had told Niles that day that things were over between them, and it certainly looked as though that were the case. She had hardly seen him since then. During the day, he was either at the theater or buried in paperwork in his office. And during the evenings, she had been out with John—except tonight. She understood why John had to cancel, but that didn’t keep her from being a little disappointed. She surprised herself at how much she missed seeing John for one night. After all, they had only known each other a week.

She popped in the movie and settled in on the couch. After a few minutes, she realized that she was hungry. She had skipped dinner with the family because she and John had had reservations at Nello’s. She put the movie on pause and headed for the kitchen. She got into the sub-zero and dug out the makings of a sandwich. Feeling a little sorry for herself about being alone that night, she went ahead and grabbed some cole slaw and pudding to go with her triple-decker corned beef and swiss on rye. Just as she finished piling it all onto a plate, Max came into the kitchen.

"Oh, Miss Fine, I didn’t realize you were home this evening," said Max, wondering why she wasn’t out with John.

"Yeah, I got nowhere to go tonight," she moped.

"Oh, that’s too bad," he said, smiling to himself. Could it be that it was over already between them? It wouldn’t be a record, but still, that one hadn’t taken long. "And why are you eating?" he asked, knowing how she used food to compensate when she was depressed over lost loves. He was poised to take her in his arms and console her over another busted affair.

She looked at him strangely. "Why do you think? Because I’m hungry. I thought I was going out to dinner tonight, but that’s not going to happen." Max waited for the tears and the whining, the lamenting over another relationship biting the dust. But, nothing. "I’m just gonna watch a movie and nosh. Wanna join me?"

Max started to jump at her offer, but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to do anything in her vulnerable state, and he knew if he settled in to watch a movie with her he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. "Well, I do have a lot of work to do in my office. I’ll be in there if you need me."

"Thanks," she said, taking her plate and heading back into the living room. She settled down on the sofa and turned her movie back on. Max went back to his office to devise a new plan. He decided to give her a day or two to get over this guy, and then he would ask her to accompany him to opening night. It was coming up in just over a week—the timing would be perfect. And the play was a romantic comedy—the perfect setting for his declaration of love. He worked for another hour or so and then decided to go check on her. He walked back into the living room, but it was empty and the TV was off.

Fran was in her room. She had just taken off her make-up and climbed into bed. It was still a little early, but all these late nights out with John were starting to catch up with her. She needed her sleep because she and John were going to a party the next night at the home of one of his friends, and she would probably be out late again. Actually, it was probably a good thing that John had cancelled on her tonight. She could use the rest.

Fran snuggled down into the covers thinking about the party and looking forward to it. John had introduced her to this group of friends one night when they had run into them at a restaurant. John had asked them to join him and Fran for drinks at their table, and it had been great fun. One couple, Dave and Kristin, had just gotten married and both of them were so funny. They had all laughed so hard they were afraid of being asked to leave the restaurant. Fran and Kristin became instant friends, making plans to play tennis soon. All of John’s friends, although wealthy and definitely upper class, were so down-to-earth that Fran never felt as though she didn’t fit right in with them. It wasn’t at all like the way Mr. Sheffield’s friends made her feel. She fell asleep thinking about what she would wear to the party.

Breakfast the next morning was very pleasant. The children noticed that their dad seemed to be in a particularly amiable mood. Soon after they finished eating, the children left for school and Fran started upstairs to get dressed to go over to her mother’s. As she walked through the living room, the doorbell rang. "I’ll get it!" she hollered, hurrying toward the door. At the same time, Max came in from his office. He was expecting some important papers to be delivered by courier.

Fran opened the door and sucked in her breath at the sight. There stood a delivery man holding a gorgeous spray of two dozen sterling roses. "Hoo-hah!" shouted Fran, delighted. She took them from the delivery man and Max gave him a tip. Fran’s face was shining as she set them on the entry hall table.

"Who do you suppose those are for?" asked Max.

"They’re for me, silly!" she said, playfully smacking his arm.

"And who do you suppose they’re from?" Max asked curiously.

"Oh, I know who they’re from," she said dreamily. She opened the card and read out loud, "Sorry about canceling last night. Looking forward to this evening. John." She sighed as she closed her eyes and held the card up to her heart. "Isn’t he sweet? It wasn’t even his fault that he had to cancel. These are the most gorgeous roses I’ve ever seen!"

Confused, Max stammered, "Miss, Miss Fine, I thought you two broke up. I mean, you were home alone stuffing yourself last night."

"Don’t be ridiculous!" She held one of the roses up to her nose and inhaled its fragrance. "He had an emergency at the hospital last night." She picked up the large vase and, still smiling, took them upstairs.

Max stood there staring after her. "This might take longer than I thought," he said to himself.

The next morning Max sat at his desk staring at Fran’s picture. "Fran, I love you," he said out loud. God, he was dying to tell her. Why had he ever taken her to that bloody backers’ party? Waiting for her relationship with John to end was sheer torture. Max now fully understood what he had put Fran through these last few years waiting for him to be ready. "How in the world did she ever have so much patience with me?" he wondered. Now that he knew what it felt like, he vowed to make things right. As soon as John Michaels was out of the picture, Max would declare his undying love for her, apologize, and propose. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. How could he have been such a fool for making her wait?

Just then he heard C.C.’s voice, and he quickly shoved the picture back into the drawer. "Hello, hello!" C.C. chirped brightly as she came into his office.

"Well, C.C., you seem to be in a good mood today."

"Yes, well, money always puts me in a good mood. It seems Nanny Fine’s fling with that doctor is paying off in more ways than one. Not only do we hardly ever see her anymore, but he sent us a check today for $20,000!"

Max ripped off his glasses and jumped out of his chair. "Oh, that is good news! I believe that puts us over the top for our budget on this production." Max’s instinctively exuberant reaction to the news of John’s investment suddenly twisted into a sour note when he recalled the circumstances that had brought it about. Would John have made that investment had he not been so charmed by Miss Fine? For a fleeting instant, Max thought about not accepting the money.

C.C. held the check out to Maxwell. "I’ve got to get to rehearsal. Would you courier this over to the accountant’s?"

Without looking at the check, Max began shuffling papers around on his desk. "I’m really quite busy here. I’d appreciate it if you would take care of that, C.C."

With a slight shrug, C.C. slipped the check back into her briefcase and walked out of the office.

Maxwell rolled over and looked at the clock for the tenth time in the last hour. Almost two o’clock, and she still wasn’t home. What could be keeping her out so late? Had something happened? An accident? He forced his thoughts not to go in that direction. Not again, please God. Life couldn’t be that cruel. It had been four days since those roses had been delivered, and still no sign of any cracks in their relationship.

He finally gave up any notion of having a restful night’s sleep and got out of bed. Putting on his silk robe and slippers, he headed down to the kitchen. He took some juice out of the refrigerator and poured himself a glass. Sitting at the kitchen table, he sipped his juice and started running through all the possible scenarios that would cause her to be so late.

Maybe they had had car trouble. A broken-down car would certainly account for the late hour. She’d been inconvenienced, but was safe. Yes, that was probably it. Or maybe she had run into an old friend, and they had got to talking. Everyone knew how Miss Fine could talk! If that were the case, it could well be four or five in the morning before she got home. There was one other possibility Maxwell did not want to admit to. It could be that they were having a wonderful time and she didn’t want to come home yet. It could be that John was sweeping her off her feet, and Max and the children were the last things on her mind right now.

Max was mildly amused at that last scenario. Even if it were the case, it couldn’t possibly last very long. Just like all of Miss Fine’s previous beaus, this guy would turn out to have some weird quirk, and the relationship would end abruptly just like all the others. Max could just hear her whining to him, "Oh, Mr. Sheffield, it didn’t work out. What’s wrong with me that I attract all these weirdos?" Then Max would take her in his arms and console her. That scene had played out many times in the past, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t happen again. It just seemed to be taking a little longer this time.

Max said to himself, "I just have to have a little more patience. By next week at the premier, she won’t even remember this John Michaels, and she’ll be back in my arms. That’s when I’ll tell her how much I love her and how I can’t imagine my life without her." Just then he heard someone coming down the back stairs. "Niles, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"I heard you in the kitchen, and I thought I better see if you needed anything," Niles yawned.

"Have some juice and pull up a chair, old man."

"Thank you, sir." Niles poured himself a glass and joined Max at the kitchen table.

"Niles, how much do you know about this chap Miss Fine is dating?" Max asked, trying to sound conversational.

"Well, he seems very nice. He’s a doctor, and quite wealthy, I understand. Extremely handsome also, according to Miss Fine and Val."

"Yes, of course, I can see all of that. But what about his behavior, his habits, his—

"Weird quirk that will cause Miss Fine to dump him?"

"Yes, any of those?" Max asked rather sheepishly.

"Well, I don’t know of any yet. Let’s see, he’s not a jewel thief, or her cousin, or in need of a green card." Niles began smirking as he rattled off the list of oddities that had brought Miss Fine’s previous relationships to a screeching halt.

Max added, "He’s not a superstitious athlete or into astrology," unable to hide his amusement. "Let’s see. Maybe he’s a double agent who’ll soon be called in from the cold. Or, I know, he’s been selected to colonize Mars and must leave tomorrow on the Space Shuttle!" The two broke out laughing. As their chuckling subsided, Max suddenly turned serious. "Whatever it is, I wish it would present itself soon."

"Miss her, sir?"

"Of course I miss her! She’s out with him all the time, and this house seems so empty without her around."

"Anything else seem empty without her, sir? Such as your arms? Your bed?"

Max started to reprimand his butler, but stopped when he realized that Niles had hit the nail on the head. "Oh, Niles, you don’t suppose she could be getting serious with this chap?"

"Sir, you’ve got to tell her how you feel. Everyone knows how much you love her, but she’s got to hear it from you. She told me she thinks things are over between you two."

"I know I’ve got to tell her, Niles, and I want to. I’m ready to tell her—to shout it from the rooftops. But the timing just isn’t right. If I tell her now, she’ll think I’m just speaking out of jealousy—that I’m trying to break her and this Michaels fellow up."

"But isn’t that what you’d like to do, sir?"

"Yes, of course, but when I tell her, I want her to know it’s because I truly mean it, not because of any selfish motive. I want her to understand that I’ll love her forever and that I can’t imagine my life without her. No, now is not the right time. I’ve got to be patient a little longer."

Meanwhile, Fran and John were snuggling under a blanket on a carriage ride through Central Park. Fran rested her head on John’s shoulder and inhaled his Aramis. John put his finger under her chin and lifted her mouth up to meet his. His kiss was at once tender and passionate.

"Fran, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. I know this seems too sudden, but I can’t hold back any longer. I’m in love with you."

Fran looked at him incredulous. "What?"

"Fran, I love you."

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was it possible that this rich, handsome, classy guy had fallen in love with her—a simple girl from Queens? She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their lips crashed together as their tongues found each other in a passionate kiss. John crushed her to him as if he would never let her go.

Breathless, Fran whispered, "John, I love you too."

Max had been right about one thing. He and the children were the last things on Fran’s mind right now.

Fran sat at the kitchen table looking over the morning paper. The kids had left for school an hour earlier and Niles was upstairs cleaning. Mr. Sheffield, as usual, was working in his office. She heard a light rapping on the back door and looked up to see Val’s smiling face through the window.

"Hi, sweetie!" Fran chirped as she ran to let Val in. Val came in and gave her best friend a quick hug. As she took off her jacket and sat down at the table, she said, "Fran, I was on my way to work, but I just had to stop by and find out how your date with John went last night."

Fran walked over to the stove, picked up the kettle, and took it to the sink to fill with water for tea. "Oh, Val, it was wonderful. First, we went to Tavern on the Green for dinner and then we went for drinks and dancing at the Skylight Room. John is such a fabulous dancer! We had so much fun."

"It sounds very romantic!" Val said.

"Oh, it was! Then to top off the evening, we went on a carriage ride through Central Park. You know, it was a little chilly last night, so we had to snuggle up under the blanket to stay warm. Well, not just to stay warm," Fran said with a wink. "I’ll tell you, Val, I could have stayed there in his arms all night."

"Fran, it sounds to me like you could really fall for this guy."

Fran got a serious look on her face as she dug out the tea bags and placed them in the mugs. She poured the hot water into the mugs and brought them over to the table. "Ya know, Val, I think I already have."

With a look of shocked surprise on her face, Val said, "But what about Mr. Sheffield?"

"I don’t know, Val. I’m as surprised as you are that I could really fall for someone else. I mean, I was just so used to the idea of being in love with Mr. Sheffield, I never really expected anything like this to happen. But with John it’s so different. He’s so open and caring, not to mention rich, handsome and charming. But, with him there are no games, no holding anything back, no mixed messages. It just feels so wonderful to love someone and to feel his love in return. I don’t know if I would have ever felt that with Mr. Sheffield. And even if I did, who knows how long it would be before he took it back again." She sat down at the table, rested her chin on her hand, and sighed audibly.

"Fran, you said, ‘Love,’" Val declared seriously.

Fran put her palms on her cheeks as her eyebrows went up. "Oh, my gosh! I did, didn’t I?"

"Fran, what are you going to say if John tells you he’s in love with you?"

"He already did, Val. Last night in the park. He wants me to drive with him out to Long Island this weekend to meet his parents."

"Fran, you didn’t answer my question. What did you say when he told you he was in love with you?"

Fran hesitated and took a sip of her tea. "I told him I loved him too." There. That made it real. She knew now she hadn’t said as an instinctive response to his declaration, or just because she was caught up in the romantic moment. In the harsh light of day, she had admitted it to another person. She had fallen in love with Dr. John Michaels.

"Oh, Fran, this is gonna kill Mr. Sheffield," Val declared.

Fran waved off Val’s statement. "Oh, I doubt that!" Fran shrugged. "I’m sure the only thing Mr. Sheffield will feel is relief that I’m no longer pushing him into the kind of relationship he never really wanted." She saw the doubtful look on Val’s face. "Oh, I know he cares about me, but not in the way I want him to—need him to. And I wonder if he ever will. I’ve begun to think that what I want from him he just doesn’t have to give."

Val stared into her teacup, unsure whether or not she should mention the next question on her mind. "What about the kids?"

"Oh, Val, you know I love those kids like they were my own. But they’re almost grown now. They really don’t need a nanny anymore. And no matter what happens, I will always love them and be their friend."

The two friends sat silently for a few moments. Fran took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ya know, Val, there’s a Yiddish word—bashert. It means "meant to be." John and I are bashert. Everything between us just seems so right—so perfect. He’s all I ever wanted in a man, and when I think back through all the events that had to happen to bring us together, I know it must be fate. I know now why Mr. Sheffield held me at arm’s length these last few years. It was so I would be there at the right moment to meet the man I was meant to share my life with—John."

On the back stairs, just out of view, Niles stood frozen. A single tear rolled down his cheek. His worst fear had become a reality.

It was late on a Thursday afternoon. Fran and John had seen each other almost every night since the backers’ party two weeks ago. She had been working on a scheme all day to get Mr. Sheffield to let her have the weekend off so she could go with John to visit his parents at their home on Long Island. She didn’t think there was much going on around the house this weekend, so getting the time off should be no big deal. She had decided to tell Mr. Sheffield that she and Val were going to visit an old high school friend who was now living in Great Neck. She really didn’t want to lie to him about where she was going and with whom, but she knew what "meeting the parents" usually meant, and she didn’t want Mr. Sheffield jumping to any conclusions about her and John. She wasn’t even sure herself what it meant in this case, and she didn’t want to have to try to explain it to anyone else, least of all Mr. Sheffield. And she couldn’t figure out why she thought it would even bother him.

She knocked lightly on his office door. "Mr. Sheffield, ya got a minute?" she said in her usual way, trying to sound nonchalant. She came and stood in front of his desk.

Max’s face lit up as he looked up at her. "Of course, Miss Fine. As a matter of fact, I was wanting to speak to you. I was thinking that we could all use a little vacation, so I’ve arranged for all of us to spend the weekend at Montauk. How does that sound?" Max had decided that getting Miss Fine away with him and the children for the weekend might be just the thing to get her mind off John Michaels and back on him. In fact, he thought that if the two of them could get some time alone, the right moment for declaring his love just might present itself. He was getting too impatient to wait for the premier next week, so he had decided to create an opportunity this weekend. He was surprised when she hesitated.

"Uh, this weekend? Well, actually I was hoping to get some time off. I promised an old friend in Great Neck I’d come visit her."

Max looked perplexed. He didn’t think that she had any friends who lived in Great Neck, but he had never known her to tell a bold-faced lie. He would expect some manipulating, maybe a little twisting of the truth, and lots of sitting on his desk in a short skirt, but to come right out and make something up to get time off was not like her. He had no choice but to believe her. "Oh, well, that sounds very nice. I suppose we can manage to get along without you. Go ahead and have a good time." He hoped his smile looked genuine.

"Thanks, Mr. Sheffield. I’ll be back Sunday evening." She breathed a quick sigh of relief and scurried out of his office. She couldn’t help but think, though, that this felt just like last year when Mr. Sheffield walked into the kitchen and almost caught her kissing his brother Nigel. Nigel had told her that she acted like she was cheating on Maxwell when she pushed him off of her. Why did she feel as though she were being untrue to Mr. Sheffield by going away with John for the weekend? Since she had stopped pressuring him about "the thing," he had made no attempt to move their relationship forward. Things had definitely cooled between them ever since she met John. Although it was obvious to her that there was nothing and no one to betray, she simply felt that Mr. Sheffield didn’t need to know where she was going this weekend.

It was Friday evening and John’s car turned up the long winding driveway that led to his parents’ home. As the Jaguar came around a group of trees, Fran gasped at the sight of the house. It was a huge colonial mansion with intricate stone detailing on the façade. The rolling lawn was meticulously landscaped.

John pulled up to the side door and turned off the ignition. He opened the car door for her and grabbed both their suitcases out of the trunk. Taking her hand, he led her up to the portico. He bent down and kissed her and then unlocked the door. He was surprised no one was there to greet them. "Mother? Dad?" he called out. No answer. "That’s funny. I’m sure they said they’d be home today from London and to meet them here at 7:00. Well, come on in and we’ll get settled."

John turned on a few lights and Fran looked around at the beautiful kitchen, which was huge but warm and inviting at the same time with a fireplace in one corner. They walked on into the sitting room, which was elegantly decorated in a modern classic design. Fran glanced around at the expensive family heirlooms and thought, "Hmm, they’ve got beautiful tsatskes, just like Mr. Sheffield."

Just then, John’s cell phone rang. "Hello? Oh, hello, Mother. Yes, we’re here. I’m sorry to hear that. All right, then, we’ll see you tomorrow. Would you like for us to pick you up at the airport? Ok, we’ll see you when you get here. Good-bye." He turned to Fran. "Their flight was delayed. They won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves for now."

"Hmm. Isn’t that convenient?" Fran grinned accusingly.

"Honestly, Fran. I had no idea! But as long as we’re alone . . ." He took her in his arms and began kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and it seemed their bodies melted into one another. After a few minutes, Fran had to stop before her legs gave out from under her.

John cleared his throat trying to regain his composure. "I’ll show you to the guest room." He picked up their bags and led her through the large entry hall and up the winding staircase. It reminded Fran of the one at home in the Sheffield mansion.

Fran was about finished unpacking when she heard a light knock at the door. John poked his head in and asked, "All done?"

"Almost," she answered. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What would you like to do tonight?" he asked.

Fran stopped what she was doing and gave him a look that said, "I can’t believe you just asked such a loaded question."

John laughed. "Really, Fran, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just wondering if you felt like going out or if you just wanted to relax and take it easy tonight."

"Honey, we’ve known each other for two weeks now, and you’re telling me you don’t know what I want to do now?"

"Oh, right. I should have known. What sounds good? Chinese? Italian?"

"Mmm. Italian."

"Great. I’m going to go down to the cellar and choose a wine. You just take it easy. I’ll have dinner ready before you know it."

"You’re gonna cook for me?" Fran asked, impressed.

"Of course! I have to show you what good husband material I am, don’t I?" he said, grinning as he hurried out of the room.

"Husband material?" Fran said to herself.

There were already wonderful smells coming out of the kitchen when Fran walked down the stairs a few minutes later. Strains of Pavarotti were emanating from the walls. She stopped just outside the kitchen to watch him slicing tomatoes and tossing various ingredients into a pan. He looked so comfortable in the kitchen, so sure of himself. Fran stood there in awe of the realization that this gorgeous, charming guy could be in love with her and so ready to declare his love. He was genuine, and his love was genuine. Whatever in the world did she do to deserve him? She wasn’t used to this. Not used to men who loved her easily, readily. Men who put her first, who wanted nothing more from her than that she love them back. God, she was so ready for this guy, for this relationship. "I’ve certainly kissed my share of frogs," she thought to herself, "and now finally I’ve found my Prince Charming." A sudden thought struck her. "Did I just put Mr. Sheffield into the same category with all those other frogs?" she wondered.

Fran walked on into the kitchen and John looked up at her, flashing her a smile that made her heart race a little. He grabbed the wine and poured them each a glass. Handing hers to her, he lifted up his glass and said, "To you, sweet thing."

Fran climbed onto the barstool and watched John as he worked away over dinner. He was a joy to watch, so engrossed in chopping and stirring, sampling little bites from time to time. His blonde-streaked hair fell casually over his collar and his green eyes shined. She stared at the way his well-toned muscles moved beneath his soft blue polo shirt. Oh, and that tushy! "Can I do anything?" she asked.

"You are doing something," John smiled. "You’re sitting there taking my breath away." He tore off a piece of the crusty Italian bread and dipped it into the sauce. He held it out to her and then put it in her mouth. A small dollop of the sauce didn’t quite make it into her mouth. "Mmm!" Fran said. "Delicious!"

John immediately covered her mouth with his own, licking the errant sauce from her lips. "Mmm! Delicious!" he said, eyes twinkling. Periodically, John would break into song, singing along to the aria playing on the stereo. His beautiful, resonant voice gave Fran chills.

"Oh, my gosh, John! You have a beautiful singing voice!" Fran exclaimed.

"Why, thank you, my love. I shall use it only for singing beautiful love ballads to you," John said in mock gallantry.

When dinner was ready they went into the dining room where John had lit candles and dimmed the lights. He pulled Fran’s chair out for her and then sat down. After he refilled their wine glasses, he raised his, looked directly into her eyes, and said in a sincere voice, "Another toast. To whatever person or power or set of circumstances brought you into my life—I will be forever indebted." At that, Fran thought of Max. They clinked glasses and as John took a sip, he saw a shadow pass over Fran’s face. "What’s wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing," she protested. "Really! Everything’s wonderful—this dinner, this night—you." How could she explain to this wonderful man the strange uneasiness she had. How could she trust her feelings? This certainly felt right and sure. But only a few short weeks ago she was so in love with Maxwell Sheffield. She had felt so strongly that she and Max were supposed to end up together, and with Maggie, Brighton and Gracie make one beautiful family. She had been positive they were right for each other. Was she supposed to just forget about all of that because this charming, handsome guy told her he was in love with her? She had heard that from men before, but this time seemed different. She had to admit, it was getting easier to disregard what she’d had with Mr. Sheffield the stronger her feelings grew for John.

"Fran? I thought you were hungry. You haven’t touched a bite," John said tenderly. The sound of his gentle voice brought her out of her reverie.

"What? Oh, yes, I’m starved!" She took a bite. "Mmm. This is yummy. Let’s see . . . A beautiful singer, a great cook—any other hidden talents I’ve yet to discover?"

"Oh, I have talents in many areas, and I’m looking forward to sharing all of them with you," he grinned mischievously.

They finished dinner while chatting about plans for the weekend and John telling Fran stories about his childhood and his parents. After dinner, they went into the sitting room where John lit a fire in the fireplace and changed the music to a sultry Etta James. They sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and leaned back on the sofa. Soon they heard the rhythm of raindrops falling outside, and it added to the feeling of coziness inside.

They silently watched the fire for a few minutes as they listened to the soft jazz accompanied by the patter of rain on the windows. Then John reached over and kissed her cheek. He looked at her intently and he saw the reflection of the fire only adding to the natural sparkle of her dark brown eyes.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked quietly. Fran turned and looked into his eyes. They reaffirmed his words—there was no mistake about it. She looked away from his intense gaze.

"I know you love me. What I’m having trouble figuring out is why. I mean, we come from two different worlds. Everything about us is different. Just look at this house you grew up in—it’s a far cry from an apartment in Flushing. You’re a doctor, and I make six bucks an hour as a domestic. You’re . . ."

"Shh." John held a finger to her lips to stop her. "How could I help but fall in love with you? You’re beautiful and sweet and sexy. I love your pizzazz, your zest for life. I love the way you love those three kids and the way they obviously adore you—you’re going to make a wonderful mother some day. I love the way you love—with your whole heart and soul. I love the way you make me laugh. I could go on."

Fran felt tears of happiness well up in her eyes. So this was what she had been dreaming of all these years. Not a man who loved her but couldn’t admit it, not someone who would blurt it out and then take it back, and certainly not a man who held her at arm’s length while she died a little inside every time he pushed her away. She had longed for a man who loved her openly and readily, who was in love with the idea of being in love with her, and whose love she would never have to work for or coax him into admitting. She knew then that man was sitting right there beside her. John’s love was tender and fun and generous. It was loaded with possibilities for the future. As the full impact of her realization struck her, a warm calmness came over her. Fran was positive that John was the love of her life, the man she had been looking for. They were so right together—attuned to each other. Thank God she had been ready for him when he came into her life!

Fran turned and wrapped her arms around John’s neck. She reached for his mouth with hers and poured the rush of emotions that had come with her realization into her kiss. John responded wholeheartedly. He lay back on the soft carpeting and pulled Fran down on top of him. Their kisses were urgent and passionate. He breathed into her mouth, "God, I love you so much," and then plunged his tongue deep. With their lips still locked together, he rolled her over onto her back. As he lay along side her leaning on one elbow, he unbuttoned her blouse and deftly unhooked the front snap of her black lace bra. He gasped when her breasts were revealed to him in the soft glow of the firelight. Not able to fight the urge, he reached down and took one in his mouth. She inhaled sharply and arched her back as his lips were at first tender and then urgent. He sucked at one taking her to the precise point between pleasure and pain while his fingers and thumb gently massaged the other.

Reeling at the sensations he was sending through her body, Fran gathered her wits enough to take the next step. She tugged his shirt loose from the waist of his slacks and he raised up just enough for her to pull his shirt off. He slid her bra and blouse off of her shoulders and arms and then pulled her tightly against him and they both moaned audibly at the feel of her bare breasts against his chest. His mouth once more claimed hers in a hungry kiss. She reached down and started frantically pulling, trying to loosen his belt. Needing no more encouragement than that, John quickly dispensed with of the rest of his clothes and then hers. His hands ran tenderly over her body, reveling in the feel of her hips, her legs, her back. Fran ran her hands up and down his well-toned back while he covered her neck in kisses. He found the exact spot at the base of her throat where his kisses drove her to push her body into his as if she were trying to become part of him.

John rolled up on top of her and she opened to meet him. He was intoxicated by the smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her silky skin against his. And he was so ready to make her his. He brought himself under control enough to enter her gently, sweetly. They both gasped at the sensation of it. Then Fran slid her hands down his sides and took hold of his hips, pulling him deeper into her with each stroke. They began to create their own rhythm, a beautiful accompaniment to the falling rain, the music and their two souls.

As the urgency of their movements increased, so did the strength of their emotional bond. Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving as one, in tune and in time with each other. Then Fran’s breathing began to deepen and quicken. Within moments, she let go a cry of joy as wave after wave began to wash over her body. Her passion drove John over the edge, as he grasped her tightly to him in his passionate release.

As their breathing came under control, John lightly kissed her ear and whispered, "You’re incredible." He rolled over on his back and carried her with him. As she lay on top of him, her long hair fell around his face, and he reveled in the feel of it.

She raised her head and looked directly into his eyes. What she saw there was pure love. Then a coy little smile crept across her lips. "What?" he asked.

"I’m just amazed by another of your talents," she said, grinning.

"Oh, I still have some left to share," he said. He reached up on the sofa, took down the Afghan and wrapped it gently around Fran’s shoulders. She slid off of him, hugging the blanket tightly to her. He reached for his boxers and quickly slipped them on. "It’s getting pretty late. Do you want to go to bed?" he asked her as he stood up and helped her up off the floor.

"Yes," she replied.

"Tired?" he asked.

"No," she said.

They went upstairs to John’s room. He turned down the huge, soft bed and slid between the covers pulling Fran in with him and wrapping her up in his arms. They made love once again, and finally fell into an exhausted sleep, both knowing beyond certainty that they had found the love of a lifetime.

By the time John’s parents arrived home the next day, he had given Fran a tour of the grounds and shown her pictures of him and his brother growing up. When Daniel and Jeanne Michaels drove up around noon, Fran and John were waiting outside to welcome them home. John looked a lot like his dad, who was also a doctor. Jeanne had the warmest smile and instantly made Fran feel as though they had been friends a long time.

The four of them had a wonderful time all weekend, going out to dinner, shopping in town, and playing canasta, men against women. By the time the weekend was drawing to a close, Fran felt as though she had truly found a place with this family. She was sorry that the weekend had to end. As Dan and Jeanne walked Fran and John to the car, Jeanne said, "John, I don’t know how you managed to catch this girl, but you’d better hang on to her. She’s way out of your league."

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate the advice," John said, and they all laughed. As Fran was getting into the car, she suddenly was struck by the stark contrast between Jeanne Michaels and Elizabeth Sheffield. John’s mother was genuinely warm and loving, and that quality came through in her son.

As John drove down the long driveway, once again he saw a shadow pass over Fran’s face, but decided not to say anything about it for the time. They drove for a while in silence, enjoying the beautiful countryside. Seeing John and his mother together this weekend had made Fran think about Max and how much he had missed out on growing up. It gave her some perspective on his inability to deal with his emotions and made her wonder if he was ever going to come to terms with them. John kept glancing over at her, wondering why she appeared so thoughtful and serious. Finally, he had to find out what seemed to be weighing so heavily on her.

"Fran? Didn’t you have a good time this weekend?" he spoke softly.

"What? Oh, no, I had a great time. You’re very lucky to have such wonderful parents," she replied.

"I know. When am I going to get to meet your parents?"

"Uh, soon. But I have to warn you, Morty and Sylvia require a little getting used to," she said, giving him a brief smile. Then she went back to staring out the window.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it. He had to press her. "What’s the matter?"

"What? Oh, nothing. It’s just . . . Well, I was just thinking how important it is for children to grow up with warm, loving parents. You and I were both lucky in that respect. Some people don’t get that, and it makes things so hard for them in life."

"Anyone in particular?"

"My boss, Mr. Sheffield. You should meet his mother and father. It certainly explains why he’s such a basket case. I don’t know if he’ll ever really be able to love anyone."

John wavered before he voiced his next thought. "You mean love you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember on the night we met I asked you if you were involved with anyone and you said, ‘Yes. Sort of’? That someone is your boss, isn’t it?"

Fran hesitated.

John said, "Never mind. You just answered my question."

"John, I told you it was complicated. Please don’t ask me to try to explain it."

"Ok, then just answer one question. Are you in love with him?"

Fran thought for a moment. Then she said, "There are strong feelings between us. We have this connection. I mean, we live in the same house, we both love the children so much, and we’ve been through a lot together."

"But do you love him?"

"Yes, I care for him a great deal. We’re friends—much more than that, really." She turned and looked directly at him. "But you are the one I’m in love with."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure."

He reached over and picked up her left hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the backs of her fingers, lingering over the third one. "Hmm," he said grinning. "This poor little finger looks a little bare. I think it would be nice if it had something to wear!"

At breakfast Monday morning, Fran couldn’t stop smiling. She kept thinking about Friday night in front of the fire, the wonderful weekend with John’s parents, and the fact that he had practically proposed to her on the way home last night. As she sat at the table stirring her coffee, the breakfast table chatter seemed far away.

"Miss Fine? Miss Fine?" Max had to repeat.

"Hmm?"

"I said I’d like to see you in my office when you’re finished eating," he said.

"Ok, sure. I’ll be there in few minutes." Fran watched Max walk out of the dining room and wondered what could be so important. "Ok, Niles, dish. What’s on his mind?"

Now, Miss Fine, I can’t say for sure, but I would guess it has something to do with the premier of his new play later this week."

"Is that this week already?" she said, surprised.

"Yes, Miss Fine. If you had been around here at all lately, you would know when it is." Niles sounded just a wee bit indignant.

"Well, excuse me for having a life, Niles."

"And what’s wrong with the life you have here, if I may ask?"

"Which life is that? The one where I earn six bucks an hour as a domestic or the one where Mr. Sheffield nearly breaks his neck running away from me?"

"Now, Miss Fine, he doesn’t seem to be running that fast anymore. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Sheffield had something special in mind for opening night."

"Oh, Niles, I told you. The games between us are over. I know how much you wanted me and Mr. Sheffield to get together, but you’re going to have to let it go." As Fran got up and headed toward Mr. Sheffield’s office, Niles couldn’t help thinking that Miss Fine sounded as though she had already let it go. He prayed that there was still some sliver of hope for her and Mr. Sheffield.

Fran walked into Maxwell’s office. "What did you want to see me about?" she asked. Still frustrated that this past weekend’s plan to get her to refocus on him had fallen through, Max was pinning his hopes on this week’s premier of his new play. As a backer, John had received complimentary opening night tickets, but Miss Fine had mentioned nothing about the two of them attending. If Max could just get her to agree to go with him instead of that doctor, he knew the evening together would be the spark they needed to reconnect.

"Well, Miss Fine, you know this Thursday is opening night of my new play. I just wanted to make sure that you will be available to accompany me. You know, it wouldn’t be an opening night without you and the whole family there."

"Of course I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. By the way, John won’t be able to come. He’s got an out-of-town medical conference."

"Wonderful!" Max exclaimed a little too triumphantly, jumping up and coming around the desk. "I really think this one is going to be a big hit. All the signs point toward it. Afterwards, we’ll have a huge cause for celebration. I’m planning on us going to Sardi’s to wait for the reviews."

"Sardi’s? Isn’t that the place—" she started to say, "Where you kissed me for the first time?"—but stopped herself and instead said, "We went to before?"

"Yes, I thought it would be nice. Sort of for old time’s sake."

"Sounds great. I’m already looking forward to it." She flashed him one of her smiles and left his office.

Max breathed a satisfied sigh. "Thank God!" he said aloud. This was going to be a memorable opening night in more ways than one.

Finally, it was Thursday night. Max was in his tux, pacing back and forth in the foyer of the Sheffield mansion. "Let’s go, everyone! We’re going to be late!" he shouted up the stairs. He couldn’t stop wringing his hands. On top of all his usual opening night jitters, he was nervous about his plans for later that evening. He couldn’t wait any longer to reveal his love to Miss Fine. It had just been so painful watching her go out night after night with that John Michaels character. Max had tried to be patient waiting for the relationship to die of natural causes just like all Miss Fine’s other relationships. But this one was still hanging on, although he was certain that it too would eventually end on some weird note. He knew also that it probably wasn’t a good idea to declare his love for her while she was still seeing this guy—she could so easily misinterpret his motives. But Max was tired of waiting. He was too anxious to see her eyes light up when he said the words she had waited so long to hear, too anxious to hold her in his arms and feel her lips on his. Tonight was going to be the night, finally, that would change their lives forever.

He had it all planned. They would all go to the premier together. The show would be a smashing success. Then, afterward, they would all go to Sardi’s to wait for the reviews. Max had selected that place for a very particular reason. It was the same bar where he had kissed her for the very first time. She had single-handedly been responsible for the success of that play. After the critic Frank Bradley had missed the performance because of food poisoning, Fran had given the reporter outside the theater a rousing review. Max smiled to himself as he recalled that kiss. He had been so happy and excited, he just wanted to thank her. So he grabbed her cheeks in both hands and planted a kiss on her lips. He was just caught up in the moment, but the jolt of electricity that surged through his body when their lips touched knocked him senseless. And the look on her face told him that she had felt it too. He should have realized right then that they were meant to be together. That first kiss told him everything he needed to know about her. Well, he’d been a fool for fighting it for so long, but he wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie came running down the stairs and headed straight out the door to the limo. C.C. and Niles appeared. "Maxwell, we have to leave now or we’ll miss the curtain," said C.C.

"Yes, I’m aware of that, C.C.," said Max, slightly irritated with her. Niles helped her on with her coat and they walked out the front door. "Miss Fine!" he yelled as he put on his own coat. Then he turned and looked up the stairs and saw her. His jaw smacked the floor. "Oh, my God!" came out of his mouth.

There she stood in the red sequined dress with the slit up the side. The same one she had worn the weekend he’d hired her. "I’m ready, Mr. Sheffield," she said sweetly. How could she do this to him? Not that dress! All the emotions of the last five years hit him at once. He just stood there staring as she descended the last two steps. Max was absolutely speechless.

"Wha?" she asked.

"You, um, uh, you look absolutely stunning," he stammered. "You simply take my breath away."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. "You look pretty good yourself!" He held her coat for her. She slipped her arm through his and they walked out to the limo.

The ride to the theater was rather quiet—not all the nervous chit-chat that was often a prelude to an opening night. It seemed everyone could tell that Maxwell was really on edge tonight, and they were giving him some space. Outside the theater, there were the usual bright lights and paparazzi snapping pictures.

Just as they were seated, the house lights started to dim. Maxwell’s stomach felt as though it were tying itself into knots. He knew this was a really good play—perfectly cast and staged. It was the best shot he’d had in a long time for a smash hit. But just as with every opening night, those little nervous doubts cropped up just before the curtain rose. He reached for one of the Tums he knew Miss Fine had slipped into his cumberbund as she always did on opening night. Nothing. He looked at her in astonishment.

"Sorry," she mouthed to him. She reached into her evening bag, took out a Tums and slipped it into his hand.

As the orchestra struck up the first notes of the overture, Max suddenly realized that Miss Fine had not reached over and squeezed his hand for luck as she always did. Brushing that distraction aside, he reached down and picked up her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed the backs of her fingers and then kept his hand wrapped firmly around hers, hanging on to it for support.

The play progressed and Max began to relax as he saw how well it was going. The audience was laughing in all the right places, the actors were hitting their marks, and the crew was doing a superb job. With his nervousness gone, Max’s thoughts started focusing on Miss Fine. Was it his imagination, or was she a little distant this evening? She had forgotten his Tums and she hadn’t reached for his hand all evening. He decided he would try to make a connection with her at intermission. He would tell her how much it meant to him that she was here with him tonight, and how much he was looking forward to being with her at Sardi’s after the play. He even toyed with the idea of mentioning that he had something important to tell her later.

But as soon as the house lights came up for intermission, Fran excused herself saying she had to make a phone call. At one point, he spotted her across the lobby with her cell phone to her ear and deep in conversation. Max hoped she was talking to her mother or Val, and not "him." By the time Fran slipped into her seat next to Max, the house lights had already dimmed and the curtain was rising on the next act.

Throughout the rest of the performance, Max had a growing feeling that Miss Fine was just a bit preoccupied. She was very cheerful and pleasant, but there were tiny clues that only Max could pick up on—he could tell her mind was somewhere else.

The curtain came down to thunderous applause. Five curtain calls! Max was beaming. People were appearing from nowhere to shake Max’s hand and offer their congratulations. Fran reached up and gave Max a hug. "Congratulations, Mr. Sheffield. It looks like you’ve got a big hit on your hands!" Just as he was about to wrap his arms around her and return her embrace, she pulled away and turned to say something to Maggie. There it was again. She was there with him tonight, but she wasn’t really there.

On the ride to the restaurant, Max started to question his plan to tell her his feelings about her. After her aloofness during the play, he was afraid his declaration wouldn’t be met with the warmth and enthusiasm he had always thought it would. He had wanted to get her alone and tell her he loved her more than he could express in words, that he wanted her by his side always, and that he wanted everyone to know. Then he had planned to get everyone’s attention and announce it to the entire restaurant. It wasn’t exactly shouting it from the rooftops, but it was close.

Now he wasn’t sure. Maybe if he could just get her alone for a few minutes at Sardi’s, they could reconnect and then all the love between them would come pouring out. He was still wavering about whether or not to tell her when the limo pulled up in front of the restaurant. They went in and were seated. Miss Fine was chatting away, showing her bubbly and vivacious personality just like always, but Max could see there was something different about her. Then it suddenly struck him. She was completely contented with things the way things were between them. She hadn’t made one comment all evening about "the thing," or his fear of commitment. She usually snagged every opportunity to throw some little jab his way on that topic. But not tonight. In fact, she hadn’t made mention of it for the past few weeks, he realized.

Maybe she had finally given up on the idea of them getting together. Max smiled to himself. "The more surprised and thrilled she’ll be when I do tell her!" Suddenly a cloud crossed his face. Maybe she had given up on him because she didn’t care anymore—because she was getting serious with that Michaels fellow. Max’s heart sank. "Please, God, no. I love her so much—I need her in my life. There’s got to still be hope for us," he thought.

The bartender turned up the volume on the TV as "Critic’s Corner" came on. As everyone had hoped, Frank Bradley gave Maxwell’s play a solid thumbs-up. The whole place sent up a cheer, and although Max was smiling, on the inside he felt hollow. "What good is a hit without the woman I love to share it with me?"

He turned to Fran, and she was beaming. "Oh, Mr. Sheffield, this is so exciting!" Then she grabbed her cell phone. "I’ve got to call John and tell him the good news."

The realization of that moment hit Maxwell like a ton of bricks. The woman he loved was sharing his success with someone else—with the man she loved.

The limo pulled up in front of the Sheffield mansion after having dropped C.C. off at her apartment. Max had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride home, and Fran couldn’t help but notice. She knew there was something weighing very heavily on his mind. They all piled out and came through the front door, exhausted from the evening’s activities. Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie said goodnight and went straight up to bed.

"Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?" asked Niles as he hung everyone’s coats in the closet.

"No, thank you, old man. Goodnight," Max returned as Niles slipped silently up the stairs. Max walked slowly over to the fireplace, head down, deep in thought. He stood staring at the logs, cold and covered with gray ashes.

Fran had started up the stairs, but then came back down and walked over to him. "Mr. Sheffield, you don’t look very happy about your big success tonight. It looks like your play’s gonna be a big hit."

Without turning around, Maxwell said, " Yes, it does. But then, things don’t always turn out the way it appears they’re going to."

Realizing that this was going to be the moment of truth, Fran took a deep breath and said, "No, they don’t."

After a long pause and with his back still to her, he said, "You would much rather have been with him tonight, wouldn’t you?"

"No, really, I had a wonderful time tonight. It was so great having the whole family together celebrating your success," said Fran, hoping he couldn’t detect the note of forced enthusiasm in her voice.

He was silent for a long moment. "You’re in love with him, aren’t you?" It came out so quietly, she barely heard him.

Silence. Then, a whispered, "Yes."

"And he’s in love with you. He’s already told you he loves you, and he didn’t take it back, I’m sure," he stated flatly.

"Yes."

"When will you be leaving us . . .leaving me?"

"I don’t know. Soon." She walked up to stand right behind him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. "Mr. Sheffield—Max—I will always cherish the time I spent here in this house. I still love the kids as if they were my own, and I still love you." She paused. "Just—"

"Just not the way you love him," he finished for her.

"I’m sorry. I never planned for this to happen. It’s just that you never really—"

Max pulled his shoulder away from her hand. "Never mind, Miss Fine. You don’t owe me any explanation. This was bound to happen." Taking a deep breath, he turned around to her with a pasted smile on his face and took both her hands in his. "I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world." Sighing deeply, he bent down and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. Fran started to put her arms around his shoulders, but he pulled quickly away from her embrace. "Goodnight, Miss Fine," he choked out as he exited quickly through the door. Fran stood there staring after him for a long while, trying to interpret his reaction to what she had just told him. Was that sigh one of regret or relief?

When Max reached his bedroom, Niles was waiting for him outside the door. "Is everything all right, sir?"

"No, Niles, everything’s a mess. Well, you might as well know. You were right. I let the most important thing in my life slip through my fingers. I’ve lost Miss Fine forever."

"Oh, I didn’t want to be right, sir. Are you sure there’s no chance?"

"Quite sure. I used up all my chances long ago. I don’t have any more coming."

With that, Max went into his room and poured himself a large brandy and downed it all in one gulp. The most he could hope for tonight was to get enough of the amber liquid into him to dull the sharp pain stabbing his chest and twisting his insides.

Outside the door, Niles declared aloud to no one in particular, "Losing Sara nearly killed him. Losing Fran surely will."

The day had finally come for Fran to move out of the Sheffield mansion. It had taken her several days to pack her considerable wardrobe and all of her make-up and personal items. As she looked around her old room, a flood of memories—both joyous and poignant—came back to her. But now it was time to look ahead to creating new memories in her life as Mrs. John Michaels.

She smiled as she recalled the night John had taken her for dinner at that little bistro where they had gone the night they met. He had been wearing a knowing little smile all night. Fran noticed it and kept asking him what was going on, but he was determined to wait for the right moment. He had requested the same table, and after they had finished eating, he got down on one knee in front of her. "Remember you said you were waiting for the right guy to declare his undying love for you? Fran, I’ll do everything in my power to prove that I’m that guy. I love you more than I can begin to express, and my love for you will never die. Will you marry me?"

He was so sweet and earnest. All she could say was, "What do you think?" and then he gave her the sweetest, most tender kiss she had ever received, and she knew from his kiss that he had meant every word he said.

John had taken a small box out of his pocket. When he opened it, Fran saw a beautiful platinum ring with emeralds in the setting. "This was my great-grandmother’s. It’s not an engagement ring, but I’m giving it to you as a symbol of my love and commitment to you. I want you to wear it until you can pick out the biggest and most beautiful engagement ring we can find. Want to go shopping tomorrow?" he grinned as he slipped the ring on her finger.

Fran had hesitated a moment. Choosing her words carefully, she had told him, "John, I need a few days before we make an announcement. I have to think of the kids. They’re going to be upset that I’m leaving, and I need some time to explain things to them."

"Sure, baby, whatever you need." He had stood up and pulled her up with him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. "I guess since I get you for the rest of my life, I can let them have you a few more days."

They had gone back to John’s house then and made passionate love. Fran had fallen asleep that night with her head nestled in the crook between John’s neck and shoulder and his arms around her. Her last thought that night was that her life, at last, was as perfect as she had always dreamed it would be.

From that moment, she started making plans for her new life as John’s wife. But first, she knew she had to close some doors on her old life as a nanny. The first step was to move out of the Sheffield mansion.

Although the packing had been a huge chore, it was nothing compared to the difficult task of saying good-bye to the kids. It had been just a week since John had asked her to marry him and she had accepted. Things had been strained around the house since opening night when she and Max had talked. The three kids were smart—they could tell things were different now. She didn’t want them to overhear something or to figure it out on their own. She knew the news of her leaving had to come from her and she had to be honest and clear about everything. She had to make them understand that they weren’t losing another mother because she would always love them and be a mother to them in any way she could.

Last night she had gone to Maggie’s room first. Although Maggie had been very upset at the news, she wasn’t totally surprised. She had been putting two and two together. "I knew something was going on. Dad has hardly been home lately, and when he has been here, he’s been too polite—especially to you."

"It’s going to take everyone a little time to adjust. This is a big change in the household," said Fran with her arm around Maggie’s shoulder.

Maggie tried her best to smile at Fran. "This must be really hard for you. Here you are on the one hand so happy that you’re in love and getting married and on the other hand sad that you’re leaving us. It’s hard, but I’m really trying to be happy for you. I know how wonderful it is to be in love."

"Do you remember what I told you about that?" Fran asked.

"Yeah, you said to hold on to the feeling as long as I possibly can, because it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. You also told me to always follow my heart. That night, I told you that my heart was telling me to go back over to Shawn’s."

Laughing through tears, Fran said, "And I told you that wasn’t your heart talking."

"Fran, are you sure this is your heart talking to you now?" Maggie asked earnestly.

Fran wrapped both her arms around Maggie’s shoulders and gave her a long, heartfelt hug. "I’m sure, sweetie."

Fran had to stand outside Brighton’s room for several minutes and dry the tears that had poured after her talk with Maggie. "B, can I come in? We need to talk."

"Come on in, Fran. What’s up?"

Fran came in and sat on the end of Brighton’s bed. She told him her news, and he just sat there stunned. "Fran, I won’t know what to do without you around here. I thought we would always be together," said Brighton, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You know, B, as your nanny, I always tried to teach you important lessons about life. This one is especially important—life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan it or the way you want it to. But there is one thing you can always count on—I still love you guys, and that will never change."

Brighton gave Fran a big hug. "I probably haven’t said this enough over the last five years, but thank you for everything you’ve done for us and for loving us."

"Loving you was the easy part." As Fran left his room, Brighton turned over on his bed and hid his face in his pillow.

Fran took a deep breath. This last one was going to be the hardest good-bye of all. How could she make Gracie understand what was going on? She knocked lightly on the door and poked her head in. "Hi, Fran! Did you come to read to me?"

"No, angel, I need to talk to you." Fran sat on Gracie’s bed and held her close while she told her in straightforward, simple terms that she was leaving. Gracie just buried her face in Fran’s shoulder and burst into tears. After a few minutes, she raised her head and looked up at Fran.

"Fran, I’ll still think of you as my mom—always."

"And I’ll still think of you as my baby—always." Gracie lay face down on her bed and sobbed while Fran rubbed her back.

Fran slipped out of Gracie’s room and went back to her own room where she lay down on her own bed and cried.

The next morning, Fran did not join the family for breakfast. After the tearful good-byes the previous night, she knew it would just be too painful. Early that afternoon, she went to Mr. Sheffield’s office to say good-bye and let him know she was leaving. She looked in, but the only person she saw was C.C.

"Is Mr. Sheffield here?"

"No, he went to the theater early this morning. He should have been back an hour ago. I don’t know what could be keeping him," said C.C. "Well, Nanny Fine, I guess it’s time for me to offer my congratulations. John seems like a great guy—quite a step up from your last fiancée, I’d say.

"Thanks, Miss Babcock, I think," Fran said.

"You know, Nanny Fi—Fran, I always thought I would be so ecstatic the day you left here. I dreamed about this day for so long. But now that it’s here, I actually might be feeling a little sad. Things are going to be very different around here." Just then Niles came in bringing C.C. a cup of coffee. "In fact, they’re already different. Max just hasn’t been himself. He can’t concentrate, can’t get any work done. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he really is in love with you."

Fran shook her head. "Mr. Sheffield doesn’t know how he feels about me. I think once I’m gone and he doesn’t have me, Ma, and Niles pressuring him, he’ll realize that whatever it was he felt for me wasn’t love. With a little time to adjust, he’ll come to feel relieved and realize that things turned out the way they were supposed to. He’s still in love with Sara and will be for the rest of his life."

Niles turned and looked at Fran in protest. "If I may speak freely, Miss Fine, I think you’re wrong. Mr. Sheffield is very much in love with you, and he’ll spend the rest of his life kicking himself for not telling you and showing you every day."

Fran reached up and gave Niles a kiss on the cheek. "You’re very sweet for saying so, Niles, but it’s over. There’s really no use dwelling on what will never be. I’m going to miss you so much. I’ll see you all at the wedding, and then after that, we’ll make certain to see each other all the time." Looking at her watch, Fran said, "I really wanted to tell Mr. Sheffield good-bye before I left, but John is going to be here to pick me up in a few minutes."

Niles said, "I think Mr. Sheffield will be able to say good-bye to you eventually in his own way—but not today."

They all walked out through the living room to the front door. Niles had brought all her bags down. Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie all came running downstairs when they heard the doorbell ring. John came in and started hauling Fran’s bags out to the car. There were hugs all around, even for C.C. Fran walked to the front door and stopped to turn around and take it all in one last time. She sighed heavily as John came up behind her. "Ready?" he asked.

She looked up into his sweet, loving face and said, "Yes, I’m ready." She turned to go, but turned back one more time. The three children all came up and gave her one big hug. "We love you, Fran," they all said at once.

"I love you more," said Fran, and then she was gone. Wordlessly, Niles, C.C., and each of the three children, heads down, walked to different parts of the house to deal individually with their sadness.

The day after Fran moved out of the Sheffield mansion, she and John went shopping for her engagement ring. At Cartier’s they picked out a seven and a half carat pear-shaped solitaire. Sylvia couldn’t wait to show off Fran’s ring to all of her friends. Fran switched the platinum and emerald ring onto her right hand, and John lovingly slipped the solitaire onto Fran’s left hand.

Fran moved back into her old room in her parents’ apartment for the next few months while she planned her wedding. She and Sylvia had a wonderful time picking out Fran’s ivory and gold wedding dress, tasting samples at the caterer’s, and planning every little detail of the ceremony. Of course, Val would be her maid of honor, and John’s brother would serve as his best man. John’s parents were thrilled that their son was marrying such a warm, genuine girl, and they were so happy to welcome her into the family.

The ceremony was to be held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a beautiful setting for the simple yet elegant affair. The day of the wedding arrived, and Fran was the most exquisite bride. When John turned to see her coming down the aisle, he literally gasped. He couldn’t believe such a wonderful, beautiful woman was becoming his wife. He felt as though his heart would burst.

Fran had tears in her eyes as she walked down the aisle toward the man of her dreams. He looked incredible in his tuxedo, and she felt so lucky to be loving such a terrific man. The ceremony was simple yet lovely. John and Fran whispered intimate words to each other that no one else could hear during the vows. After they kissed for the first time as husband and wife, Fran and John turned around and were thrilled to see the smiling, supportive faces of all their family and friends.

All except one, that is. Although Fran didn’t see him, Max was staring at the floor. He had kept his head down during most of the ceremony. He was there with his family, including Niles and C.C., but he just couldn’t watch his Fran marrying another man. At the moment they were kissing, he tore his eyes away from the floor and looked up. The sight of her kissing John the way she used to kiss him was too much to bear. He quickly looked down again.

Later at the reception, Max stood off to the side staying close to the bartender so his scotch rocks could be frequently refilled. He looked around at the all the joy among the families and tried not to think of how close he had come to all of it being his. He watched her dancing with Morty. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Downing his scotch, he summoned up his courage. He walked across the dance floor and tapped Morty’s shoulder. "May I cut in, Morty?"

"Of course." Morty kissed his daughter’s cheek and left the dance floor.

"Mr. Sheffield!" squealed Fran, her face lighting up.

"You know, Fran, I’m not your boss anymore. You can call me Max."

"Max, thank you so much for coming."

"Oh, I wouldn’t have missed it. It was a lovely ceremony, and you are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen."

"Thank you," she said, blushing a little. There was a bit of an uneasy silence between them. Then Fran said, "Max, I hope you understand—"

"Uh-uh," he interrupted. "Today is not a day for regrets. It’s a day of celebration and joy. I wanted to give you a little something to show you that I truly wish all the best for you and John." He pulled a small package out of his pocket and handed it to her. She opened it and let out a cry of delight.

"Oh, it’s beautiful!" It was a small, silver trinket box in the shape of a heart. There was a lovely, intricate design engraved on the top of it. "Thank you!" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. He looked lovingly at her and drank in the feel of her in his arms. Not able to fight the urge, he reached down and gave her a sweet kiss on her lips. Just then, John appeared and wrapped his arms around her waist possessively from behind.

"John, congratulations," Max said extending his hand.

The two of them shook hands as John said, "Thank you, Maxwell."

"Well, I really have to be going," said Max, clearing his throat.

"Oh, so soon?" asked Fran.

"Yes. Again, all the best to both of you." With that, Max turned and left the dance floor. He found Niles and told him, "Niles, please bring the family home in the limo later. I’ll take a taxi." He headed for the door, but when he got there, he turned and took one last look at her. The pain in his heart was too overwhelming. Then he left quickly.

John could not wait another minute to have Fran to himself on their wedding night. "What do you say you and I get out of here?" said John with his arms wrapped around his bride.

"Mmm. Sounds good," she smiled up at him.

"Now throw that stupid bouquet and let’s get the honeymoon started," he laughed.

An hour later they were in their stateroom on the yacht John had chartered for their honeymoon cruise. He lay across the bed watching her put her things away. He was simply amazed by her—her sweetness, her beauty—and he couldn’t believe that she was his. He looked at her open suitcase on the bed to see if he could get a glimpse of the negligee she would be wearing on their first night together as husband and wife. He saw a shiny object among her things and reached to take it out of the suitcase. It was a heart-shaped silver box.

"What’s this for?" he asked.

Fran looked at what he was holding. "It’s just a little trinket box," she said nonchalantly.

"It looks like real silver. Is it a family heirloom?" he asked trying to open it.

"I don’t know. It might be. It’s a wedding gift."

"Who is it from?"

"Mr. Sheffield."

John stared intently at the box. "Why do you suppose he gave you a personal gift like this instead of a blender or something?"

"I don’t know. He gave it to me while we were dancing. I thought it was very sweet."

John was silent for a moment, hesitant to say what he was thinking. Then he said, "You do realize that he’s in love with you, don’t you?"

Fran suddenly stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at John open-mouthed. She shook her head, "No, you’re mistaken." She went back to putting things in the drawer. John jumped off the bed and crossed the room taking her in his arms. He looked directly into her eyes.

"Darling, I love you so much. I can’t imagine my life without you. You make me so happy," John said, giving her a tender kiss.

"I love you," she said, kissing him back.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a worried look on his face.

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I’m sure."

"Fran, I have to know something." He took a deep breath. "Am I going to be competing with Maxwell Sheffield the rest of my life?"

"Why would you ask that? You know how much I love you."

"Yes, but what I need to know is how much you still love him. Please be honest with me. I need to know." He looked at her intently.

Fran dropped her arms by her side and walked over to sit on the end of the bed. She became very thoughtful, choosing her words carefully. "There was a time I believed I was in love with him. I thought he loved me too, but was just afraid to admit it. I know now in my heart of hearts that he never really loved me. I’m not sure what he felt for me, but after knowing the open, generous love you give me, I know his love couldn’t have been genuine. I’m not really sure what Mr. Sheffield and I had. There was definitely sexual attraction." He shot her a sudden look. "No, we never did," she offered quickly as he sighed in relief. "And there was a mutual love for the children, but mostly it was just games and flirting. I love him now as a dear friend—that’s all. I’m sure that’s the way he feels about me. When we danced together today, it was warm and sweet—it brought back some very dear memories. He wished you and me well—I’m sure he was sincere."

John shook his head. "You didn’t see the way he was looking at you while you were dancing with your father. I was watching him watching you. I’m telling you, the man is in love."

Fran stood up and wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. "And so am I—with you." She gave him a long kiss, putting all the emotions of her statement into it.

John whispered in her ear, "Fran, promise me—promise me you’ll never leave me. Tell me you’re sure you made the right choice."

Fran looked deeply into his eyes. "Sweetie, there was no choice. I married the man I love, and I’ll never leave you. I’m all yours, body and soul forever, I swear to God."

"Body and soul? What about your heart?"

"I gave that to you already—all of it."

They kissed a long, meaningful kiss. John thought to himself, "And today Maxwell Sheffield gave my wife his heart in that little silver box."

Fran and John’s honeymoon cruise lasted nearly a month. Their chartered yacht took its time making its way to St. Bart’s. Then the two lovers spent several weeks at the Hotel Guanahani on the Grand Cul de Sac. They enjoyed sun-drenched days lying on the beach or sailing on the crystal blue water and moonlight-filled nights dancing and making sweet love. Fran and John were both convinced that they had found heaven in the island paradise and in each other’s arms.

When they returned to New York, they moved into a beautiful mansion in mid-town. John got back to his practice at the hospital and Fran delved into decorating their new home. She had to pinch herself frequently to be sure she was actually living the life of a doctor’s wife as she had always dreamed. Their evenings and weekends were spent with family and friends. They saw Dave and Kristin almost every weekend and Val and her new beau Fred joined them often. The three couples had so much fun together.

Sylvia, of course, visited almost daily, and Yetta stayed close. John and Sylvia had hit it off immediately. John had started calling her "Ma" even before the wedding. Fran was especially thrilled when Sylvia and Morty became close to Dan and Jeanne Michaels. The four of them got along so well that sometimes Fran’s parents would go spend the weekend with John’s folks on Long Island even when Fran and John couldn’t make it.

Fran was so blissfully happy in her new life that she knew she couldn’t possibly want anything more. Then one night she climbed into bed and John slid his arms around her and drew her snugly to him. He kissed her thoroughly and said, "Sweetheart, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I know we’ve discussed having children, but I feel like I’m really ready now. I take care of other people’s kids every day at the hospital, and I want one of my own. I love you so much, I can think of nothing more wonderful than you and I having a baby together."

Fran thought of Maggie, Brighton and Gracie and how much she loved them. She realized then that having a child of her own with John would make her life even more perfect than it already was. She told him, "I love you so much for saying that. Let’s start working on it right now." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him over on top of her.

Maggie stepped out of the bright sunlight and into the darkened restaurant. This was one of her favorite places for lunch, so she and Fran met here often for their regular get-togethers. They had kept in close touch since Fran got married. It had been over a year since Fran’s wedding, and Maggie and Michael had gotten married about six months later. Michael’s modeling career was still going strong and although he traveled a lot, Maggie and Michael lived in New York to stay close to their families.

Fran thought that Maggie had been such a beautiful bride. It had been so wonderful to see everyone again. Max had looked so handsome in his tuxedo walking Maggie down the aisle beaming as a proud father. Fran thought Gracie must have grown two inches since the last time she had seen her. Niles and C.C. were still the same. And Brighton was becoming more handsome every time she saw him.

At the reception, Fran had been so excited to see everyone. Elizabeth Sheffield had acted very friendly toward her—probably thrilled that there was no longer any chance of Fran marrying her son. Fran had noticed that Niles stayed by C.C.’s side the whole evening. She had walked up to them and given them both hugs. While Niles and Fran were dancing, Fran had noticed that Niles was looking as though he was holding something back. "What is it, Niles? We go way back—you can tell me anything," Fran had coaxed.

Niles had taken a deep breath. "Do you miss us at all? We all miss you terribly!"

"Even Miss Babcock?"

"Well, maybe not Miss Babcock, but I don’t think the rest of us will ever get used to you being gone."

"Of course I miss you all. How’s Mr. Sheffield doing?"

"Well, it’s hard to say. You know, he spent most of the last six months in London. He’s just throwing himself into his work. I worry about him."

"I’m sure he’ll come out of it. He just needs a little more time to adjust to the changes."

"I don’t know. I think right now time is his worst enemy," Niles had said wistfully.

Then Fran had danced with Brighton and finally with Maxwell. Although he looked wonderful, Fran couldn’t help but notice a little uneasiness in him, as though he had felt awkward being so close to her again. Fran had tried to break the tension. "Us dancing together. Sorta brings back some old memories, doesn’t it, Mr. Sheffield? Remember the mambo contest on the cruise ship?"

"Of course I remember," he had said smiling.

"And remember the very first time we danced? It was at my Camp Kindervelt Reunion."

Max had swallowed hard. "I’ll never forget that night."

"It seems you were always rescuing me on the dance floor."

"Well, I was happy to do it. And it seems you don’t need rescuing anymore. I believe you’ve found true happiness." Then the song had ended and Fran gave him a warm, sweet hug as he had slid both arms around her waist. As Max was relishing the feel of holding Fran in his arms again, he had felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in, Max?" John had said amiably.

"Of course, John, dance with your wife." Max had cleared his throat nervously and slipped away as Fran moved comfortably into her husband’s arms. They had danced to "Time after Time" while looking at each other with loving eyes. It had been a wonderful evening.

Now Maggie was looking around the restaurant, but had a hard time spotting Fran since her eyes had not quite adjusted to the dim light. Then she heard, "Yoo-hoo! Maggie!" in that unmistakable voice. She walked in the direction of the voice and suddenly she was wrapped up in Fran’s arms—so comforting and familiar. "Hi, sweetie. You look gorgeous, as always," Fran said.

"Thanks. It’s good to see you, too," said Maggie as they both sat down. "Let’s order. I’m starved."

"Sure, honey." Fran called the waiter over and Maggie ordered fettucine. Fran only had a light salad with soup.

"Fran, what’s going on? What’s happened to your appetite?" teased Maggie.

"Morning sickness and afternoon and evening sickness is what happened," said Fran smiling.

Maggie almost choked on her water. Recovering, she exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh,

Fran! You’re pregnant? That’s so cool!"

"Thanks, sweetie. We’re so excited about it."

"How long have you known?"

"We’ve been keeping it a bit of a secret. I’m almost four months, and you’re not gonna believe this, but Dr. Reynolds says it’s twins!"

"Oh, Fran, that’s so exciting!"

"So, anyway, I have to be careful what I eat because it could all come right back up."

"Thanks for the warning," Maggie laughed. "Are you showing yet?"

Fran hopped up. "See for yourself." She turned sideways and patted her tummy.

Maggie laughed. "Yup, you’re showing. No more short, tight skirts for you!"

"That may be, but there’s no way I’m gonna wear those big moo-moos!"

Their order arrived and Maggie caught Fran up on what had been going on with the Sheffield family. Gracie was excited about starting high school, and Brighton was talking about going to Europe for a year before starting college at Harvard. Niles and C.C. still spent a lot of time insulting each other, but it appeared they might have the hots for each other. "I walked into the kitchen once and they were making out! It was so gross," said Maggie. Fran let go of one of her great, husky laughs at the thought of Niles and C.C. together.

"So, how’s your father?" asked Fran.

Maggie hesitated. She had been concerned about Max, but she wasn’t sure how much to tell Fran. She took a deep breath and decided to go ahead and confide in her. After all, Fran was the closest thing Maggie had to a mother. "I’m worried about him. You know, right after you got married, he went to London for six months to produce that play. Whenever I talked to him while he was there, he seemed fine, but when he got back I saw a difference in him. I think he had been putting up a good front while he was away."

"What do you mean ‘difference’?" asked Fran concerned.

"Well, he always seems to look really tired and just not himself."

"It’s probably because he works so hard."

"Yeah, but I don’t think he sleeps well anymore. And he always seems distracted, like he doesn’t really hear what I’m saying. My main concern, though, is that he’s withdrawing from us—just like after Mom died. Brighton has noticed it too. He never wants to go anywhere or do anything with us. Michael and I practically have to force him to come over for visits."

Fran had a worried look on her face. "Have you tried to talk to him about it?"

"Of course, but he always says everything’s fine." Maggie thought for a minute. She wasn’t sure if she should bring up the other thing. Finally, she said, "Fran, I think he’s been drinking a lot. Every time I see him, he’s got a glass of scotch in his hand."

"Maggie, why do you think your dad is acting this way?"

"You’re not going to like what I have to say."

"Don’t be silly. You know I’ll always listen to what you have to say."

"I think he’s still so in love with you he doesn’t know what to do. He’s broken-hearted over letting you slip away. He hates himself for not telling you how much he loves you when he had the chance."

"Oh, Maggie, I’m sure that’s not the problem. We both know your dad was never really in love with me in the first place. I’m sure if he’s depressed, it’s because he’s a little lonely now that you’ve moved out and Brighton’s leaving soon. Gracie’s almost grown up. He probably just feels like you kids don’t need him anymore."

"Fran, he still keeps your picture in his desk drawer. I’ve come into his office a couple of times and caught him looking at it. He shoved it into the drawer really fast so I couldn’t see what it was, but I did."

Fran looked at her in disbelief. "Look, Maggie, I’m sure you’re wrong. There are a million reasons why your dad isn’t feeling well, and I‘d guess that I’m not one of them. He must be relieved that I’m not still there messing up his business deals and creating chaos in his house. Maybe you should try to visit him more often." Fran thought back to when Niles had told her at Maggie’s wedding that he was worried about Mr. Sheffield. She made a mental note to call Max soon and see how he was doing. "He’s probably just working too hard."

"That’s just it. He’s not really working that much anymore. He’s done a few small projects, but he hasn’t really mounted a major production since he got back from London. He’s let C.C. take over more and more of Sheffield-Babcock Productions."

"Oh, that’s so hard to believe!" Fran thought for a minute. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"There’s nothing anyone can do. I wish I could get him to open up, but you know dad, he’s so repressed and out of touch with his feelings, there’s no way he’ll tell anyone what’s going on. But, you know what’s strange? He’s been spending a lot of time in his office writing. I don’t know what he’s writing, but if I could read it, I know I could find out what’s going on with him. He’s never been able to express his feelings, but now it seems he’s pouring them out on paper."

"Well, that’s probably it. He’s gotten tired of producing theater, and now he’s trying his hand at writing, but he’s just not ready to share it with anyone yet. Remember how mad he got at me when I sent his novel to those publishers? I’m sure he’ll share it with you when he’s ready."

The conversation then turned to more light-hearted topics, such as shopping and baby names. As they left the restaurant, they gave each other a long hug and Fran promised to give Max a call soon.

Max walked into his office after a long afternoon at the theater. After weeks of cajoling, C.C. had finally talked him into producing another revival show. He was bone tired, but he had to look over some contracts before he could go to bed.

It was so quiet in the house. It always seemed too quiet these days since Maggie and Brighton had moved out. And with Fran gone too, Max could hardly stand the silence. Maybe some music would help fill the void, he thought. He walked over to the stereo and put in a Ray Charles CD. Perhaps that soulful voice would soothe the dull ache that was always present in Max’s heart. Just as he sat down behind his desk, the first song started. The beautiful harmonies of the Ray Charles Singers began, "I can’t stop loving you." Then the man himself crooned, "I’ve made up my mind—to live in misery all the lonesome time."

"Damn it!" Max shouted. He flew to the stereo and slammed his fist against the power button. He walked back over to his desk and collapsed into his chair. He waited for a minute for his breathing to slow down. Then he did the same thing he always did every time he came into his office. He reached into his desk drawer and took out her picture. He traced the outline of her cheek with his fingertip as he had done a thousand times before and said out loud, "Fran, I love you." He sat staring at her picture a long time, drinking in the sparkling brown pools that were her eyes. "Oh, God, Fran, how did I ever let you go?" he said. He rubbed his eyes trying to dispel the image of her kissing John on her wedding day. As he slipped the photo back into the drawer, he noticed the light on the phone flashing. He had a message.

He thought about ignoring it until tomorrow—he was just too bloody tired. It seemed he was too bloody tired all the time these days. Concerned that one of the kids might be needing something, he pressed the button.

Max literally jumped at the sound of her voice. "Hi, Max, it’s Fran. Could you please give me a call when you get this message? There’s something I need to talk to you about. Listen, please don’t call after 7:00 in the evening. I don’t want John to know. Thanks."

Max played the message over and over. God, it was wonderful to hear her voice—yes, that voice. Oh, how he missed hearing it in his house. What in the hell could she want to tell him that she didn’t want John to know about? Could it be possible that she . . ? No, he couldn’t allow himself to even think that way. But just maybe she had come to realize she had made a mistake. Maybe things weren’t working out between the two of them. Maybe she had never really fallen out of love with him and she was giving him another chance.

"No," he thought. "This is crazy. There’s no way." Then why was his heart pounding so fast? Why were his palms sweaty? He couldn’t stop himself from hoping. He looked at his watch. Damn. It was nearly 7:30 in the evening. He’d have to wait until tomorrow. Then he thought back to that fateful backers’ party when he believed he could wait until tomorrow, and it had cost him everything.

He knew her phone number by heart. He had almost picked up the phone and called her a hundred times, but he always stopped himself. What would he say? There was too much to say and not enough words to express it.

Max suddenly grabbed the receiver and dialed her number.

"Hello?" It was John.

"Uh, is Bill Simon there?" Max said in his best American accent.

"Sorry, you must have a wrong number," stated John.

"Sorry." Max hung up quickly.

"Well, that certainly was a stupid thing to do," Max said to himself. After playing Fran’s message several more time just to hear her voice, he called for Niles to bring a dinner tray up to his room.

After a long, hot shower that left his skin pink, he sprawled out across his bed and ate the sandwich Niles had brought up. He mindlessly flipped through the TV channels until he came upon The Way We Were. "Bloody hell!" he shouted. "Is there anything that isn’t a reminder of her?" He got up and poured himself a scotch. He couldn’t tear himself away from the movie, and, after several more scotches, finally fell into a fitful sleep soon after the movie ended.

The next morning, Max awoke with a start. He looked at the clock—six AM. His alarm wasn’t due to go off for another hour. "Well, there’s no use trying to get back to sleep," he thought, climbing out of bed.

He was a nervous wreck for the next few hours. He couldn’t call too early—he knew how she loved to sleep in, especially now that she didn’t have any kids to get off to school. Finally, after an endless amount of pacing around his office and staring at papers without really reading them, he looked at his watch. It was 8:45—surely that was an appropriate hour to call. His hand shook as he pressed the buttons on the phone.

"Hello?" It was her.

Trying to keep his voice calm and natural, he said, "Fran? It’s Max. I got your message."

"Oh, Max, it’s so good to hear from you. How have you been?"

"Well, about the same, actually. Working a lot, as usual. How about you?"

"I’m fine. Listen," she said. There is something I wanted to ask you. I was thinking it’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other. Is there any way you could get free for lunch today? I’d love to see you."

"Sure, lunch would be great. How about the Russian Tea Room? I haven’t been there since—well, in a long time."

"That sounds great," Fran said.

"Good. I’ll make reservations. Shall I pick you up?"

"No, I’ll meet you there. Say, 1:00?"

"One o’clock it is. See you there."

He hung up and let out a huge breath. Now what the hell was he going to do until 1:00?

He had Niles call for the limo at 12:15. It was only a twenty-minute drive to the restaurant, but he didn’t want to miss even one minute with her. He arrived first and the host showed him to his table. He ordered some wine and tried to stay calm while the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly, she was there, walking toward him. God, she was still so beautiful. Her hair was softer now—still long, but in soft curls and not piled high on her head. Her dark eyes still sparkled like jewels. And that smile—his heart melted on impact. He stood up and had to grab the table to help support his weak knees. "Fran!" he called.

"Max!" she squealed, running the last few steps and throwing her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and drank in the feel of her. He held her close just half a second longer than he should have and then forced himself to pull away from her. Fran started to unbutton her coat and turned away from him so he could help her with it. "It’s so good to see you!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, it’s really been too long since—" Max froze in mid-sentence as Fran turned back to him and he caught sight of her figure. She was very definitely pregnant.

She saw the look on his face. "What? Didn’t Maggie tell you? We’re having twins! John and I are so excited about it. I’m only five months—can you imagine how huge I’m gonna be at nine?"

Max recovered himself enough to help her with her chair, but was still speechless. As he moved around the table to sit down, he thought to himself, "I’m such a bloody fool! To have even entertained the notion that she—" he couldn’t even finish the thought. Their waiter appeared and they both ordered the salmon. Fran also ordered a club soda.

"No wine or caffeine for me," she sighed. "I got no problem laying off the booze. You know, I’ve never really been much of a drinker because when I get a few drinks in me, ya never know what I’ll do!" They both blushed slightly at the memory of the night she spent in his bed after getting drunk at Mona’s retirement party. "But do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a cup of coffee? Boy, as soon as these babies are born, I’m camping out at Starbuck’s!"

Fran looked closely at Maxwell’s face, trying to detect any signs of the problems Maggie had told her about. Except for the fact that he seemed a bit nervous, Fran thought he looked good. In fact, it appeared as though there was an extra sparkle in his eyes. She decided that Maggie must be feeling a little over protective.

They spent the next few minutes catching up. Fran told him that Morty and Sylvia had finally decided to move to Boca, but the plans were on hold now with the twins coming. Yetta was still the same and doing fine. Val and Fred were going to be married soon. She and John had been busy getting the nursery ready for two. John was so excited about becoming a daddy and had been working long hours at the hospital. "That brings me to the favor I wanted to ask you," Fran said.

"Anything," said Max. "Just name it."

"John’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks. He is a huge fan of Lenny Kravitz, and I know he and his band are part of the Broadway summer concert series. I heard it was sold out, but I was hoping you might use your connections to get me a couple of tickets. John would just love it. He’s been working so hard, I wanted to surprise him with a really great birthday present."

"Consider it done," said Max, hoping his smile appeared genuine.

Their food arrived, and Fran dug in wholeheartedly. Thankfully, her morning sickness had diminished and her characteristic hearty appetite had returned. Max smiled at the memory of how Fran always loved her food. As the hours went by, Max managed to get a grip on his emotions, and they ended up having a very pleasant afternoon together.

He told her that Niles and C.C. were becoming quite chummy, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were an announcement soon. "I know! Maggie told me about that. I couldn’t believe it!" Fran exclaimed. "Do you suppose that all those years of barbs and insults were just some bizarre form of foreplay?" They both laughed out loud at that.

As the time drew to a close, both Fran and Max grew wistful. "I really must be getting back to work," Max said. "I’ll call you as soon as I get the tickets. It should be just a few days."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it. Let’s do this again. It was really great seeing you."

Max helped her with her coat, and they walked out together into the warm sunshine. He hailed her a taxi and called for his driver. The taxi pulled up to the curb and Max opened the door for her. She turned and gave him a long hug, and then she placed a warm and tender kiss on his cheek. She got into the cab and smiled and waved as it pulled away.

As he watched the cab disappear into traffic, Max said, "Fran, I love you." They were words he had said many times over the last year and a half, but words she would never hear him say. As soon as he got into the limo, he poured himself a scotch. It was going to be another one of those days in which he yearned for oblivion.

Maxwell sat at his desk with a stack of papers in front of him. He downed the last of his scotch, knowing that C.C. would be there any minute and she would have a million details to discuss about their upcoming revival of Showboat. But he just didn’t feel like putting forth the effort it took to mount such a huge production. He slumped in his chair behind his desk trying to work up the energy to look over the budget information she had given him, but instead he reached into his drawer and took out Fran’s picture. As he looked lovingly at it, he thought back to the last time he had seen her—Maggie’s birthday party. Michael had invited Fran and John to the surprise party knowing it would make Maggie so happy, and it did, but it had practically killed Max. There she was with her adoring husband and those darling twins, who had just turned three. She was still the same beautiful, vivacious Fran, and he still loved her so much. Every time he saw her and came face to face with what he could never have, it took a little more out of him.

Fran had called Maxwell several times over the last few years and invited him to lunch or to their home for dinner with her and John. But he had politely declined the invitation each time. Dealing with his emotions was hard enough when he was by himself, but impossible when she was in the same room with him. Every time that he made a vow to himself to move on with his life, he found himself sliding further and further into a deep pit of loss and regret. He finally came to the conclusion that it was no use trying and that he would simply never get over her. He had accepted his fate—that he would be desperately in love with her forever and there was nothing he could do about it.

He lovingly placed Fran’s picture back in the drawer as he heard C.C. come in. "Hello, hello!" she called as she came into his office. "Maxwell, what time is the meeting you set up with the musical director?"

Maxwell thought to himself, "What meeting?" Then he remembered that he was supposed to schedule a meeting for C.C. and the music director, but he had spent most of the last few days writing and had lost all track of time. "I’m sorry, C.C., but I guess I just forgot."

"Maxwell, you know we have to work out the details of the orchestra this week! You’ve got to get a hold of him first thing this morning. I can’t believe you forgot!" C.C. chastised him.

"C.C., why don’t you go ahead and set up your own meeting?"

"You know, I hate to say this, but you haven’t been pulling your weight since we started this production. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you just don’t want to do it."

"The truth is, I don’t," said Max. "I’ve been meaning to talk to you, C.C. This is going to be my last Broadway production. I’m getting out of the theater. Call it an early retirement if you like."

C.C. stood there staring in disbelief. A twenty-year partnership was coming to an end. "Maxwell, are you sure?"

"Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for some time now. The truth is that my heart just isn’t in it anymore."

"But what will you do?"

"Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll find plenty to keep me busy around here. I’ll contact my lawyer this week and get him started turning the majority management of Sheffield-Babcock Productions over to you and Niles. I’ll remain as a silent partner." He smiled up at her trying to smooth over the shocking news he had just delivered. C.C. didn’t know what to say. She just turned and walked out of his office, and Maxwell let out a big sigh. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

One evening as Max was alone in his office pouring his heart out on paper, the phone rang, startling him out of his reverie.

"Hello?"

"Hello, sir. It’s Niles. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"Oh, no, old man. Just going over a few things. How’s everything with you?"

"We’re all doing well, sir. How about you?"

"Oh, you know. About the same."

"Sir, C.C. and I are having a small dinner party Friday evening. We would simply love it if you would join us."

"This Friday? Well, that sounds wonderful. I could use an evening out of this house with old friends. Can I bring anything?"

"No, sir, just yourself. We’re so looking forward to seeing you again. It’s been such a long time."

"Are you sure there’s nothing I can bring? How about the wine?"

"Oh, that won’t be necessary, sir. Fran and John have already offered to bring a nice merlot."

a few seconds, he finally stammered out, "Uh, um, damn, Niles. I just remembered that I

have to go out of town this weekend. Some family business I have to attend to. Please pass along my regrets to C.C." Max hoped his lie wasn’t too obvious.

Niles paused on the other end, certain there was no "family business." Then he asked, "Are you sure you can’t reschedule your trip? It just won’t be the same without you here."

Max thought for a moment, wondering if he could bring himself to see her, talk to her, look into those brown eyes again. He felt pieces of his heart breaking away and a wave of pain wash over him. He ran his fingers through his hair and said quietly, "Sorry, Niles. I can’t."

In a gentle voice Niles asked, "Sir, is it still so difficult?"

"Oh, God, Niles. I wish it were only difficult. It’s hell. I miss her every second of every day. I’m sorry, old man, but seeing her again would just be too agonizing. I can’t—I just can’t."

"I’m sorry, too, sir. Please take care of yourself. I’ll call you again soon." They both hung up.

That time, Max didn’t even bother with a glass. He just opened the scotch, put the bottle to his mouth, and took a long draw on it. That way, at least, he could blame his tear-filled eyes on the burning sensation in his throat rather than the piercing pain in his heart.

It had been two years since Fran had seen Maxwell at Maggie’s birthday party. She had kept in touch with Niles and C.C., who were married now with a child of their own, and who had enjoyed quite a lot of success running the production company. Fran saw the kids as often as she could. Of course she and Maggie still got together for their lunch dates, and sometimes Gracie would join them. Brighton and John had formed a special bond as a result of having the same alma mater and they played tennis regularly. The three Sheffield children all still expressed concern over their father’s health and the fact that his withdrawal from everyone seemed to be getting worse. They all secretly held the opinion that their father’s behavior stemmed from his heart being broken over losing Fran, but except for that one time Maggie had mentioned it to her at lunch, they chose to keep it to themselves. Even if they could convince Fran that it was the case, there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it.

Then one day Maggie called Fran to let her know that Maxwell was in the hospital. He had suffered a heart attack, and the doctors weren’t sure yet of the extent of the damage. Fran and John had dropped what they were doing and headed for the hospital.

Fran tiptoed through the open door to Max’s hospital room. In the dim light she could see he was sleeping and thought about turning around and coming back another time. She crept a bit closer and then suddenly drew back when she got a good look at his appearance. His face was gaunt and pale. His hair, once thick black waves, was now much thinner and almost completely gray. She could hardly believe it was the Maxwell Sheffield she had once known. The last few years had really taken a toll on him. She felt something drawing her to him and walked quietly over to sit on the edge of his bed. John slipped in the door behind her and stood at the foot of the bed.

Fran picked Max’s hand up from where it rested on his chest and intertwined her fingers with his. At this, Max slowly opened his eyes and a slow smile began as he looked at the vision that was Fran’s face. "God, she’s so beautiful," he thought. "I must be having that dream again."

"Hey, there," Fran spoke gently. "How are you feeling?"

Realizing the vision was real, Max could only utter, "Fran."

"What’s this I hear about you not taking care of yourself, mister?"

"Not you too. I get enough of that from Maggie and Niles." He looked over Fran’s shoulder. "John, how are you?"

"Fine, Max. How are you doing?"

"Well, I suppose I’ve been better." Then looking at Fran, he said, "I’m so glad you’re here."

They spent the next several minutes catching each other up on the kids and how Niles and C.C. had been doing since they got married. "How are the twins?" he asked.

"They’re fine. Growing up quickly. They really keep me on my toes."

Max let out a sigh. Fran began to worry that her visit was wearing him out. "I can see you’re getting tired now, so we’re going to let you get some rest. I’ll come back in a few days to see how you are doing. In the meantime, you take care of yourself and do everything the doctors tell you. You get better now—the kids need you."

Max shook his head weakly. "No, they don’t. They are all strong, independent young adults—thanks to you. I want to thank you for everything you did for the children . . . and for me."

Fran smiled warmly as she smoothed back his hair. "It was my pleasure." She stood up and started to pull her hand away when she felt Max tighten his grip on it. His eyes held a pleading look, just like they did that night at the backers’ party. Only this time, Fran saw it. Without letting go of Max’s hand, Fran turned to John. "Sweetie, why don’t you go pull the car around. I’ll be right there."

"Sure, honey. Max, feel better," said John as he walked out of the room. Fran sat back on the edge of the bed and leaned over so that her face was only inches from Max’s.

"Maxwell, what is it?" Fran asked.

Max’s voice was barely a whisper. He looked into her beautiful brown eyes for a long moment. Somehow, he knew this was his last chance. "Fran," he took a deep breath. "Fran, I still . . ." he hesitated. Letting go a sigh, he said, "I still am so grateful you came into our lives."

"Me too." She laid her hand on one cheek and leaned over to place a warm, tender kiss on the other. She stood up and turned to walk out of the room, but stopped at the door to look back at him. She smiled that smile that made him melt and gave him a little wave.

As he listened to her footsteps fade down the hall, Maxwell said aloud, "Good-bye, my darling. I still . . . am so in love with you."

Fran could barely hold back the tears as she rode down in the elevator. She hurried through the lobby and pushed through the doors. Thankfully, the car was right there at the curb. She opened the door and got in. John said, "Are you all right?" but one glance at his wife and he knew she wasn’t. He reached over and gathered her in his arms, holding her tenderly as her tears flowed.

"Oh, John, he looks terrible!" Fran cried as she laid her head on John’s strong shoulder. "I didn’t know he was so ill. It’s going to take such a long time for him to recover," not realizing the profound truth of her statement. As her sobbing subsided, John kissed her forehead and started the car. The two rode home in silence.

The scream of the telephone that night shot Maggie and Michael out of their exhausted sleep. Michael grabbed the receiver. "Hello? All right. Thanks," he said into the phone. He turned to Maggie who wore a mixture of fear and dread on her face. "Call Brighton and Grace. I’ll call Niles and C.C. We need to get to the hospital."

"Is he . . ? Maggie couldn’t finish the question.

"No, but we need to get down there now," Michael said as he jumped out of bed.

Less than thirty minutes later, they were all gathered around Maxwell’s hospital bed. Dr. Evans spoke gently, "There’s nothing more we can do for him now. He seems to have given up. It’s like he has no will to fight for his life. It won’t be long now." The doctor slipped silently out of the room. Tears began to slide down Maggie’s and Gracie’s faces. Michael wrapped Maggie in his arms. C.C. began quietly sobbing, and Niles and Brighton just stood staring in disbelief. Ten minutes later, Maxwell Sheffield was gone.

Through a ragged sob, Gracie sighed, "Well, at least he’s with Mom now."

"Yeah," said Brighton. "Maybe she’ll help him get over Fran."

People from every aspect of the Broadway community attended the funeral of Maxwell Sheffield, the famed producer. Traffic clogged the streets around the church for hours and the lines of people wrapped several times around the block. Fran and John, along with Sylvia, Morty and Val, slipped quietly into the back pew, not wanting to intrude on the family’s grief. Fran carried a heavy sadness as she sat with John’s arm around her, listening to the beautiful music and the glowing eulogies. She still could not believe he was gone.

On their way from the graveside service to the wake, Fran sighed heavily. "John, I really do not want to go. The funeral was hard enough, but to walk back into that house and him not there—"

"I know, baby, but you have to. For the kids."

Fran sighed. "I know."

As Fran approached the front door of the Sheffield mansion, an overwhelming wave of emotional memories almost knocked her off her feet. John reached around her waist to steady her. She saw herself ringing the doorbell with her Shades of the Orient cosmetics case. Then she envisioned her and Max kissing passionately on the front step after agreeing to be just friends. She walked through the door and felt herself flying into Max’s arms after he called her "Fran" for the first time. And then she saw him standing at the bottom of the staircase looking up in admiration as she made hundreds of grand entrances in smashing outfits. Only the sight of Gracie’s tear-stained face brought her back to reality. "Oh, Fran!" Grace cried as she threw her arms around Fran.

"I know, angel, I know," said Fran as she hugged her baby tightly. Then Brighton was there, and she held him close. There were a thousand things to say, but no words were necessary. Fran then found her way among the sullen guests to Maggie and Michael. After long hugs, Fran said, "Maggie, how did this happen? He was such a vital, healthy man only a few years ago. When did you realize that he had heart problems?"

"Well, I told you I thought he wasn’t taking very good care of himself. He just withdrew from everyone and everything. I think all the alcohol just took a toll on his heart. He was drinking pretty heavily, you know, and it had all gotten a lot worse since he quit the theater."

"I remember you telling me that, but it was just too hard to believe. Your dad was never that much of a drinker. What brought that on?"

Maggie hesitated. "I think the key to that question is in this note we found among his papers. Dad knew he was dying, and he left some final requests. He made it a point that I should tell you to look in the silver box. And there’s a package I’m supposed to have delivered to your house. I’ll send a courier tomorrow."

Fran looked at Maggie quizzically. "Silver box?"

"I don’t know," Maggie shrugged. "I was hoping you would know what it’s all about."

Fran gave Maggie and Michael long hugs after making them promise to call her if they needed anything. After Sylvia, Morty, and Val paid their respects, they all slipped out. Outside stood C.C. and Niles, both looking as if they were in a state of shock. Fran gave them both long hugs. After a few minutes of whispered condolences and promises to keep in touch, Fran and John slipped away. The ride home was silent, as a stream of tears ran steadily down Fran’s face.

Fran had just finished getting the twins off to pre-school when the doorbell rang. "I’ll get it," she called to the butler as she hurried toward the front door. She was still feeling so sad after having attended Maxwell’s funeral the day before. She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying bittersweet memories of her days in the Sheffield mansion. It was still so hard to believe that he was gone. She opened the door and there stood a uniformed courier.

"Package for Mrs. Michaels?" he said.

"Thanks," Fran answered as she started to take the large box from him.

"Uh, Mrs. Michaels, this box is pretty heavy. You better let me carry it in for you."

"Ok. Just put it down on the coffee table." The courier did as Fran asked and got her signature. Then he left

Fran’s curiosity was overwhelming. She knew this was the package from Maxwell that Maggie had sent over. What could be so important that he made it part of his dying wishes? And why did he wait to give it to her until after he died? She opened the sturdy shipping carton and gasped. Could that be real silver? She reached inside and got a good grip on it. With one hefty tug, she pulled the silver box out of the carton and set it on the floor next to where she was seated on the couch.

The box was pure silver with an intricate design on the top in the shape of a heart. Engraved in the center of the heart were the letters "FJS." "I wonder what that stands for," she thought. "It could be someone’s initials, but whose?" Then suddenly something struck her. The heart-shaped engraving on the top of the box was exactly the same size and design as the little silver trinket box Max had given her as a wedding gift. They were a matched set—meant to be together.

"It’s probably a family heirloom. ‘S’ probably stands for ‘Sheffield,’ but I don’t know who ‘FJ’ is. Hmm—Francine Joy? No, that would be too much of a coincidence," she was thinking.

Fran tried to lift the lid on the box, but it was locked. "Maxwell, how can I look in the silver box when you locked it and there’s no key?" she asked aloud. A realization suddenly struck her, and she ran upstairs to get the matching trinket box. She ran into her room and reached into her drawer. She opened the little box and removed some odd pieces of jewelry, one of her son’s baby teeth, and the ticket stubs from the Lenny Kravitz concert that Max had gotten for her. She gave a little tug on the dark red velvet that lined the bottom, and it lifted easily. Underneath, there lay a small silver key.

She ran back downstairs with the key and unlocked the large silver box. She lifted the lid and was surprised when she saw that it was filled with letters. Her eyes welled up with tears when she saw that they all had the same inscription on the envelope. "To my darling Fran," they all read in Maxwell’s large distinctive scrawl. She sat on the floor next to the box, took out the letter on top, and opened it.

By the time Fran finished reading the first letter, her eyes were so full of tears she could barely make out the words. The full impact of its message hit her like a sledgehammer. The shock made her numb, and she couldn’t catch her breath. She said out loud, "Oh, my God! He really did love me! Oh, Maxwell!" How many people had tried to tell her that Maxwell Sheffield was still in love with her? Maggie, C.C., Niles. "Oh, my gosh!" she thought. "Even John tried to tell me! He saw it too."

She looked again at the initials on the lid of the silver box. "Francine Joy Sheffield," she said aloud in disbelief. "He was going to ask me to marry him!" She had convinced herself over the years that she and Max were never truly in love with each other, but now she fully realized that if he had told her of his feelings before she met John, she would have married him in an instant and spent the rest of her life loving him. She laid her head down on her arms and cried for a long time with deep sobs racking her body. Finally, she picked up another letter and gathered her emotions enough to read it. It was dated almost a year ago.

Again, a wave of emotions rocked her. She recalled that day in the park, and felt so sorry that a day that was so much fun for her and her family could have been such a source of pain for Maxwell.

She had only read two of the letters, and she felt completely drained. She couldn’t bring herself to open another one, so she just lay there on the floor, trying to think back. Was there anything she said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do that caused things to turn out the way they did? She had given Maxwell numerous chances to admit his love for her. Hell, she had whined and cajoled—practically begged him to declare his love, but there was simply no persuading him at the time. Fran couldn’t think of a thing she could have done differently. And what if there had been? She would never have known her sweet and wonderful John and would never have experienced the powerful love they had for one another.

She thought back to her conversation with Val the morning after John told her he loved her on that carriage ride. She had told Val that she believed she and John were bashert—meant to be. She still truly believed it. She knew then that there was nothing she could have done differently to spare Max the pain he had suffered all these years. She picked up another letter and opened it.

I have relived that moment over in my mind a thousand times. A great philosopher once said that the saddest words in the language are "If only." If only I hadn’t been a moment too late. My darling Fran, I will love you forever.

After reading the third letter, Fran was overwhelmed with the realization of the ironic tragedy. She was so stunned that she didn’t even notice when the letter slipped from her hand and floated to the floor. It was one thing to read that he really loved her, but that he had been ready to tell her and everyone else that night was almost too much to grasp. She crawled up onto the couch and lay there unable to move or speak. After what seemed like hours, she heard the front door opening and remembered that John was coming home early that day. When he saw her on the couch, he asked, "Honey, what are you doing?" She looked up at him, and he saw her swollen eyes and tear-stained face and immediately ran to her and wrapped her in his arms. "Darling, what’s wrong?"

"Oh, John, you were right. He was in love with me all these years. He wrote all these letters telling me the things he couldn’t bring himself to say when we were together. It’s just so sad. I’ve only read a few of them, but . . ."

John kissed her and then looked directly into her eyes. "Fran, please forgive me."

"Forgive you? For what?"

"For taking you away from the man you loved and who loved you. When we met, I knew there was something between you and Max, but I wanted you for myself. It’s just that I loved you so much, I thought I could overcome anything that you might have had with him. I’m so sorry I caused the two of you all this pain."

Fran gave him a desperate hug. She looked at him shaking her head. "No, sweetie, no. You give me the greatest love I could have imagined. We have beautiful children and a wonderful life together. There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, really."

"Do you still love him?" John looked at her anxiously.

Fran looked intently into his eyes. "I told you on our wedding day that I was all yours, body and soul, forever. I told you that I had given you all of my heart. I meant those words then, and I still mean them today."

"I love you so much," John told her, clasping her tightly to him. He lay on the couch with her and they held each other for a long time, John comforting her over the tragic realization she had come to and Fran reassuring him that, in spite of everything they had learned that day, she was still sure she had married the man she was meant to be with.

It took Fran several months to bring herself to finish reading all the letters. Some of them were humorous, some of them nostalgic, but mostly they were just tremendously sad. She could not read them and fail to be overwhelmed by the sense of loss and regret. Fran vowed never in her life to pass up an opportunity to tell someone she loved them.

One day soon after she finished reading the last letter and closed and locked the silver box forever, she sat down and wrote out the sentiments she didn’t have the chance to tell Max when he was alive.

The caretaker watched the beautiful woman with long dark hair as she stood at the grave of Maxwell Sheffield. She seemed to be crying, and he knew to stay back and not intrude on her privacy. He couldn’t help wondering who she was.

After some time, he saw her bend over and place something on the grave. Then she turned and walked slowly away, head down. As he walked by the spot sometime later, he saw a small, square envelope leaning against the headstone. He walked up closer to read the lovely, left-handed script. It read:

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