When Maxwell accidentally overhears a conversation between Niles and Fran, will it make him rethink his "friends" plan or will it drive him further into his shell?

I can’t take all the credit for this story. Schloma started it and Tiavonnie helped with suggestions and research. They put me to work and voila, a Nanny fic was born!

I want to give special thanks to my sister who made a few suggestions for this story, to Allison for her guidance, patience, and helpful answers when I plucked her mind for "research" and to my proofreaders, Tiavonnie and Latteee. Without their help, I wouldn’t have gotten the story edited nearly as fast if I had to do this on my own.

I don’t own them; I just enjoy tinkering with their lives. An A/U Story; Set in the 5th Season, after Thanksgiving.

Comfort and Oy

by

Escritora69
(TgrTrks@aol.com)




Fran stood in the foyer, admiring the elegantly decorated Christmas tree, clad in clear and frosted ornaments, white blinking lights, and glittery tinsel. She drew in a deep breath and expelled a blissful sigh as the fresh heady scent of the pine tree filled her nose.

"My favorite time of year."

She had come to love Christmas as much as the rest of the Sheffield household. The spirit of the holiday mixed with the frantic thrill of shopping and decorating the Christmas tree seduced her right from the start.

"Oy, I feel like I’ve been possessed by Gentiles!"

Fran chuckled to herself as she made her way into the kitchen. Pushing the swing door open, the aroma of rum cake nestled in the oven greeted her senses. Her mouth watered, anticipating the feel of the velvety dessert gliding across her tongue.

Walking over to the refrigerator, she opened both doors and stared inside. Fran blew out a bored sigh then closed the doors to the sub zero. Even though there was a multitude of dishes on the shelves, there wasn’t anything in the refrigerator that tempted her.

Her thoughts drifted to the kids. Fran was proud of her children. She shook her head, awed by the transformation in their personalities.

Maggie’s a beautiful, social butterfly, Brighton’s not as mischievous as he was when we first met, and my little Gracie, while still advanced for her young age, is happy and outgoing. What a difference five years make!

She wanted to be part of their family. She belonged with the family, to care for them and love them as her very own, not just as their nanny.

"Maybe one day they will be," she murmured absently.

Making his way down the backstairs, Niles paused when he heard Fran’s plaintive declaration. He shook his head, knowing that the root of her problem was Maxwell Sheffield.

"Maybe who will be what Ms. Fine?"

Even as Niles asked the question, he had a good idea of what she was thinking. They shared many late nights over the past two years, discussing and dissecting her feelings for their employer and Maxwell’s reluctance to advance their relationship.

She jumped, startled by his soft questioning voice. "Niles! Next time put a bell around your neck!" Fran returned his warm, friendly smile. "I was just thinking. Fantasizing really."

"Spill it girlie!"

Fran wanted to keep her turbulent emotions to herself. She leaned and counted on Niles’ friendship right from the start. As much as she didn’t want to cry on his shoulder again, the words flew from Fran’s mouth before she could rein in her thoughts.

"Oh Niles, I just love this family so much. I mean I love those kids as if they were my own, and do I really have to say how much I love Mr. Sheffield? I just don’t know how much longer I can wait. I can’t blame him for the way he feels but it’s just tearing me apart emotionally. I just don’t know what to do anymore."

Niles looked at Fran sadly and replied, "Ms. Fine, you know you’re part of this family, not legally but you will always be the children’s mother, and you know deep down that Mr. Sheffield loves you too. I will always be your best friend; nothing is going to change that."

Fran’s heartache sliced into his soul. He wished he could erase her sadness and make her pain go away. Niles wanted to march into Maxwell’s office on countless occasions and shake common sense into him.

Didn’t the man know what he was carelessly throwing away?

"Oh Niles, you always know how to make me feel better. Come here and give me a hug!"

Niles took two steps toward her and gave her a big bear hug, picking her up off the floor. As he sat her back down, Fran’s smile widened.

With a light peck on his cheek, she said, "Niles, you’re the greatest friend a girl could ask for!"

* * * * *

Maxwell ran a frustrated hand through his thick dark locks. He had just hung up with Justin Graham, a man who often tried to override his vision of what made good theatre. CC’s acerbic nature was better equipped to handle the brash millionaire and her bout with the flu could not have come at a worse time.

Setting his glasses on the desk, Maxwell leaned back in the chair and massaged his temples. The pounding inside his head multiplied within the last few minutes. As he pressed the button on the intercom, Maxwell stopped and listened to the conversation between Niles and Fran.

When he heard the click of Fran’s heels on the stairs, Maxwell released the button. He didn’t know what to think. Although he knew Fran loved his children dearly, he didn’t realize her feelings for him were so strong.

How could I not have realized how much she loves me? Every time I’ve kissed her or she’s kissed me, I could feel the depth of her love.

"Okay, okay, I know she loves me," he conceded to the empty room, "but I’ve never actually heard her say it before."

Maxwell rounded his desk and walked out of his office. He was so preoccupied with thoughts of Fran and relieving his raging headache that he failed to see her as she entered the living room.

Reaching out to impede Maxwell, Fran pushed her melancholy thoughts aside and forced a bright smile on her face.

"Hi Mr. Sheffield."

"Hello Ms. Fine."

A flippant remark threatened to leave her mouth at his unenthusiastic response until she noticed the pained expression on his face.

Fran’s face drew tight with concern. "Are you okay? You don’t look so good."

"I have a bit of a headache."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." Maxwell trudged toward the stairs then turned back to Fran. "Ms. Fine?"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"On second thought, would you send Niles up to my room? I’m going to lie down for a little while."

"Okay. I hope you feel better."

"Thank you Ms. Fine."

Fran watched him climb the staircase then disappear from her sight. Heading back toward the kitchen, she pushed the swing door open and stood in the threshold.

"Niles?"

"Yes Ms. Fine?"

"Mr. Sheffield wants to see you upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"He has a headache and went to lie down."

Turning the fire down on the gurgling pots, he pulled a tray from the cupboard, filled a carafe with water, and took the backstairs to check on Maxwell.

* * * * *

Niles tapped lightly on the door then stepped inside the dimly lit bedroom. The lights were off and the curtains drawn to darken the room. He could barely see Maxwell’s still form lying in the center of the bed with his arm across his eyes.

"Mr. Sheffield?" Hearing Maxwell’s acknowledged grunt, Niles stepped closer to the bed and switched on the lamp. "I brought you some aspirin and some water."

Maxwell reluctantly sat up. Tossing the pills in his mouth, he gulped down the glass of water and put the empty tumbler on the tray.

"Do you need anything else sir?"

"No, thank you Niles," Maxwell replied. "I just want to rest for a while."

Maxwell turned off the light and listened to the soft click of the door closing. He tried to will himself to sleep but the thoughts swirling in his head wouldn’t allow his mind to rest.

He could still hear Fran’s voice as she spoke with Niles, the timbre of her words edged in sadness.

"…I just don’t know how much longer I can wait. I can’t blame him for the way he feels but it’s just tearing me apart emotionally. I just don’t know what to do anymore."

Is she thinking about leaving us? She can’t. The children couldn’t bear it if Ms. Fine decided to leave the family.

Maxwell clutched his pillow, scrunching it beneath his head.

When are you going to admit the truth? You are the one who can’t bear the thought of her leaving. You are terrified that if she left, your life would be empty and meaningless without her.

Images of Fran flashed in his mind. Maxwell smiled, remembering how the children took to her immediately. They had been desperate for love and affection and she had been more than willing to return it.

Ms. Fine ingrained her presence in our family right from the start. I will be forever grateful to her for everything she’s done.

Maxwell’s smile broadened, thinking of his own interaction with Fran. She always found a way for him to see things in a different light. He had come to rely on her strength, unique wisdom, and friendship over the past five years, even if it countered his own.

She has truly been a good friend and a wonderful mother to the children. The curved form of his mouth faded, flattening across his face. Did I just refer to Ms. Fine as the children’s mother?

As their family bond strengthened with each passing year, so did his allure for her. He tried denying his attraction to her, preferring to strengthen their budding friendship instead. He tried ignoring his desire for her, opting to channel his cravings into a platonic association.

Ms. Fine is a beautiful woman. Any normal, healthy male in a five-mile radius would want her.

Maxwell wouldn’t, couldn’t allow himself to think of Fran outside his affiliation as her employer. He still loved Sara and he forced himself to function within the confines of their defined roles.

Until Paris.

Sitting in Nigel’s nightclub, listening to Eartha Kitt croon softly in the background, and drinking champagne made for the perfect romantic setting. His normally conservative persona was relaxed, his inhibitions lowered.

Their ill-fated plane ride across the Atlantic changed everything. In the face of death, he allowed his veiled emotions to flow freely. Only when they landed safely did his words come back to haunt him. Instead of letting their relationship develop, Maxwell decided to take the coward’s way out and renege on his admission of love.

He knew his retraction was the reason behind her caustic personality. However, when he lay alone in his bed at night and allowed himself the guilty pleasure of replaying their time in Paris, one thought constantly surfaced: why didn’t she ever tell him how she felt?

His mind rewound tender and sensual moments between himself and Fran: the soft gentle kiss as they rehearsed Romeo and Juliet; the dance they shared at her camp reunion.

Maxwell remembered how vulnerable Fran looked just before he met her mouth in a searing kiss when she was in the throes of her shopping addiction. He smiled as his mind continued to peruse their shared memories.

Their kiss on the stoop where they agreed to be just friends; the desk clearing kiss during his father’s visit; their kiss to show the tabloid reporter that they were a hot couple.

When exactly did we become a couple?

Looking at everything in the stark light of reality, he began to comprehend the true meaning of their relationship. Fran not only loved him, she was in love with him and had been for quite sometime. Her behavior was more of a wife and mother than an employee and nanny.

A light tapping on the door shook him from his musings. The light from the hallway splayed across the carpet as Niles stepped inside the bedroom.

"Mr. Sheffield, will you be joining the rest of the family for dinner?"

"What time is it?"

"It’s five thirty sir."

Maxwell switched on the lamp and checked his watch. He ran his fingers through his hair then looked up at Niles.

"I’ll have dinner in my room tonight."

"Are you still not feeling well sir? Perhaps I should call your physician."

"That won’t be necessary Niles. I need some time alone to think about a few things."

"Very well. I’ll bring a tray up in a few minutes."

* * * * *

The house was oddly silent as Fran made her way down the hallway. She checked on the kids, seeing if Maggie, Brighton, or Grace needed anything before she settled in for the night.

Fran stood in the doorway to her room. She hadn’t seen Maxwell since their near collision earlier that afternoon. Tossing her purse on the bed, Fran continued down the hallway toward Maxwell’s room. She tapped on the door, entering as she knocked.

"Mr. Sheffield? Are you awake?"

Fran found herself staring face to face with her half dressed employer. She caught him when his arm was in mid-flex reaching out to grab the black pajama top from the bed. Fran’s pulse began to quicken as her eyes roamed every inch of his body.

Maxwell stared at Fran as he held the silky shirt between his fingers. His eyes dropped to her mouth, following the path of her tongue flicking across her lips.

The idea of her mouth, her body under his sent a surge of desire through his body. Maxwell struggled against the need to close his eyes. Shaking the amorous thoughts from his mind, he cleared his throat and slipped into his pajama top.

"Is there something I can help you with Ms. Fine?"

Fran looked blankly at him, unsure of his question. Drawing a quick breath, she closed her eyes to regain her composure.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Fran crossed the room toward him and pressed her hand against his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Maxwell gently removed her hand from his brow. Tucking her arm under his, he escorted her to the door.

"Much better, thank you." Lifting her arm, Maxwell heard Fran utter a slight gasp when he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "Good night Ms. Fine."

Stunned by the gentle caress of his mouth, Fran could only manage a whispered, "Good night Mr. Sheffield," before making her way back to the safety of her bedroom.

* * * * *

The cruiser dingy bobbed gently in the water. It was a perfect day for sailing: the sun shone brightly overhead, the sea was calm, and a gentle peace swaddled Maxwell as he sailed toward an unknown destination.

Blackness suddenly engulfed the atmosphere. A bolt of lightening streaked across the dark sky and a clap of thunder broke in the clouds. Heavy winds blew, pitching the small sailboat around the rough choppy waters.

Maxwell fought desperately to regain control of the craft. His hands were slick and he couldn’t get a decent hold on the lines. Thick foamy waves crashed against the boat, threatening to capsize the vessel.

As quickly as it appeared, the rainstorm dissipated. The violent waters receded and the seas were calm once again. Maxwell pushed his damp locks from his face. Wiping his eyes, Maxwell blinked a few times. A broad smile crossed his face. In the distance, he could see the outline of land.

Maxwell’s eyes snapped open. He grasped for the security of the bed, his fingers sliding over the cool silk sheets. Pushing himself up in bed, he turned on the lamp and tunneled his fingers through his hair.

That dream. It was so vivid. What did it mean? Maxwell began to flip the covers over but changed his mind. No. I don’t think I should involve Ms. Fine. Something tells me she’s at the root of the dream.

I don’t want to involve Niles in this either. He’ll just tell me it’s about Ms. Fine. Gracie? No. How would that look, a grown man, her father no less, consulting an eleven-year-old child about a dream?

Maxwell snapped his fingers. Tossing the covers aside, he climbed out of bed and entered the en suite. He knew just the person that could help him.

* * * * *

Maxwell found Yvonne sitting at a table near the front of the bakery. Entering the bustling café, he threaded his way through the crowd. He kissed her cheek then slid into the empty chair across from her.

"Good morning Dr. Rodriguez. I see your breakfast eating habits haven’t changed," Maxwell said looking at the broken muffin and cranberry juice sitting on the table.

"Why would it? Good morning to you too by the way."

"I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d add something more…expansive to your repertoire."

"Are you going to insult my eating habits or are you joining me for breakfast? I recommend the cranberry scones. They’re not as good as Niles’ but they’re still delicious."

Arching his eyebrow, Maxwell’s mouth formed a mischievous grin. "Can’t I do both?"

"You’re still a pain in my backside," Yvonne replied swiping a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"I’ve missed you too. I’ll be right back."

His laughter swelled around them as he rose from the table. She turned her head slightly, watching Maxwell scan the menu before stepping up to the counter. He returned a few minutes later, placing the scone and a cup of tea on the table.

"How have you been Yvonne?"

"I’m okay. Right now my life is consumed with my practice."

"What happened with you and James?"

"James felt the need to be with someone who was…less focused on their aspirations. I can’t really blame him. We had different outlooks on what we wanted in our lives."

"I’m sorry."

"Don’t be. He wasn’t the right person for me. I only wish him the best." Yvonne took a sip of juice. "How have you been Maxwell? How are the kids?"

Maxwell broke off the edge of his scone and popped it in his mouth. He took a quick sip of tea before answering Yvonne’s question.

"They’re great. Margaret is looking at colleges, Brighton is more focused on his education, and Grace has cut back on her therapy sessions."

"That’s wonderful Max. I’m sorry I haven’t seen them in a while. They probably wouldn’t remember me."

"Brighton and Margaret might. I doubt if Grace would."

"Do you have a picture?"

"Of course." Fishing a picture from his wallet, Maxwell passed the photograph across the table.

"Oh my god, they’ve changed so much!" Yvonne shook her head. "Maggie looks so much like Sara."

"I know. I was awestruck at the resemblance the first time I saw her in a full-length gown."

"Is Brighton still a little prankster?"

"Not so much anymore but he still has a devilish streak."

"Like father, like son?"

Maxwell laughed. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides you’re the one who always got us in trouble."

"I plead the fifth on the grounds I may incriminate myself."

Yvonne studied the children then handed the picture back to Maxwell.

"Brighton favors you a bit."

"Really? You think so?"

"Definitely. Grace is just adorable. They really are beautiful children. Sara would be proud."

"Thank you."

"How are Niles and CC? Are they still at each other’s throats?"

Maxwell rolled his eyes. "Constantly."

"I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up together." When he stared at her, Yvonne shrugged her shoulders. "They exhibit classic love-hate tendencies." Their conversation quelled for a moment. Breaking off the edge of the blueberry muffin, she asked, "So what can I do for you?"

"Can’t I just want to see an old friend?"

"Don’t play dumb with me of all people Maxwell." Yvonne titled her head to one side. "There’s something different about you. You’ve changed."

"Have I?" He stared into his cup of tea. "I suppose I have."

"So? Who is she?"

"I’m not dating anyone."

"But there’s someone you’re interested in." He lowered his eyes, nibbling on a broken piece of his scone. "Maxwell?"

His eyes reluctantly met hers. Slowly he nodded. "Her name is Fran Fine."

"Who is she? Where did you meet her?"

"She works for me. She’s the children’s nanny."

"Is there something going on between you two?"

"Not like that. We’ve become…close over the past few years." Maxwell took another picture from his wallet and handed it to her.

"She’s very pretty Maxwell." Yvonne studied him for a moment. "Are you in love with her?"

"I think I am. I’ve fought my attraction to her for the longest time."

"Why?"

"Different reasons. I still love Sara. Ms. Fine is the most unlikely person I’d ever fall for."

"In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter how unlikely she is for you? Max, you should see your face and your eyes at the mere mention of her name."

"I care for her Yvonne."

"What are you afraid of? Are you worried that the kids won’t accept the two of you as a couple?"

"Just the opposite. I don’t think the children would object if I became involved with Ms. Fine."

"Are you worried about what Sara would think?"

"A little."

"Max, I told you a long time ago that Sara wouldn’t want to you to be alone the rest of your life. She’d want you to move on."

"I don’t want to forget her nor do I want the children to forget their mother."

"How does Fran feel about all of this?"

"She encourages the children, well me and the children, to talk about Sara. She’s always been there if one of us needs to talk, ready to lend a shoulder for us to cry on."

"If she’s encouraging you all to be open with your feelings, I don’t see the problem."

"Of course you’d say that. You’re a psychologist."

"Maxwell, it isn’t healthy to suppress your feelings. You create more problems than you conquer by stifling your emotions."

"I know."

"If you know that then why aren’t you doing something about it?"

"That’s the reason why I asked you to meet me."

"I don’t understand."

Maxwell stared blankly at her for a moment. Shaking off his reverie, he blew out a light breath then explained his dream in detail.

He found Yvonne’s silence unnerving as she finished the last of her juice. Maxwell tried to gage her reaction but he was unable to read her body language.

Yvonne folded her arms across her chest. The controlled yet desperate need to understand what the dream meant radiated from Maxwell. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Yvonne chose her words carefully before she spoke.

"Your dream signifies an important event or events in your life. The key is the motion of the water."

"What do you mean?"

"The motion of the water signifies specific things. Calm water means peace; rough choppy water means discord. There was something in your life that was harmonic, which had a sudden disruption. As quickly as the disturbance occurred, your life settled and became peaceful once again."

Maxwell let her observation roll back and forth in his mind. Finishing the last of his tea, he rose from his chair and cleared the trash from their table.

"Are you ready to go?" Maxwell asked when he returned.

Yvonne flicked her wrist and checked her watch. "Yes. My first appointment is scheduled for ten."

"Did you drive here this morning?"

"Drive downtown? Are you crazy? I caught a cab."

They exited the café and walked down the street in silence. Maxwell stopped at the corner. He stuck out his arm, attempting to flag down one of the many cabs zipping down the streets of Manhattan.

A taxi slowed down and stopped in front of Maxwell. Stepping into the street, he held the door open for her.

"Thank you Yvonne," he said placing a light kiss on her cheek. "You have given me quite a lot to consider."

"Anytime Maxwell. You know I’m always here when you need an ear to bend."

"And I appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later. Maybe we can get together for lunch or dinner."

"That sounds good. Or maybe I’ll swing by and catch one of your shows."

"All you have to do is call if you ever need tickets. You know that."

"I do. Take care Max. Good luck with Fran."

* * * * *

Maxwell clutched a bouquet of gerbera daises in his right hand as he walked along the curved graveled path. He hadn’t visited Sara in a while. Maxwell knew he needed to move on with his life. Letting his feelings for Fran stagnate wasn’t healthy for either of them.

Kneeling to the frozen ground, Maxwell laid the bouquet at the center of the marker. He laid a gentle kiss against the granite headstone and traced her name with his fingertips.

"Hello sweetheart. I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in a while. Things are very busy at the theatre and personally, my life has become a bit complicated. I know it’s not a decent excuse but it’s the only one I can offer."

He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. "You know why I’ve come here to talk to you. I divided my feelings for a long time. Her enigmatic personality drew me in but I was still in love with you. I fought my attraction for her. Of course the harder I fought, the deeper I fell. That’s not exactly a secret is it sweetheart?"

Maxwell shook his head in awe and amazement.

"You know I still love you. I will always love you Sara but I love Ms…I love Fran too. I wish I knew what to do. I can’t let her leave. My life would be dull and colorless without her. The children have changed tremendously and it’s all due to her influence.

She’s made us a family again. But she doesn’t truly know that. So what do you think Sara? Should I take the risk? Should I finally level with her and tell her how I feel?"

"Tell her how you feel."

Maxwell fell backward, stunned by the soft voice beside him. He shielded his eyes with his hand against the stark sunlight. He heard a light chuckle followed by an out stretched hand.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you."

Maxwell rose from the ground and greeted the woman who stood before him. The crisp wind blew strands of her thick silvery hair across her face. She wore a cream-colored sweater and navy pants that matched the long heavy wool coat.

"I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation."

"That’s quite all right. Maxwell Sheffield."

"Monica Gibson," she replied meeting his hand. "I’ve seen you here a few times before. Sometimes alone, sometimes with children. I’ve also seen you here with a dark haired woman."

"That would be Ms. Fine. She’s my children’s nanny."

"She’s a beautiful young woman. I can see why you’d be attracted to her."

"Ms. Fine is a wonderful friend; a sheer delight."

Monica shook her head and smiled. "I wish you could see how your face lights up when you talk about her. I can see she means a great deal to you."

"That she does."

"Then why haven’t you told her?"

"I did once but I panicked and retracted my statement."

"Why for heaven’s sake? Do you know how rare it is to find love once, let alone twice?"

"There are other circumstances involved Mrs. Gibson."

"Please call me Monica."

"Only if you call me Maxwell."

She slipped her arm in the crook of his elbow and patted him on the arm.

"Maxwell, let me share something with you. God has blessed me with the privilege of living on His earth for seventy-eight years. In that time, I have held on to good, solid common sense. My husband Frank and I were lucky. We had a long loving marriage, over forty years until he passed away three years ago last April.

Frank was not my first husband. My first husband died in the Second World War. I was a young widow left to raise our two sons. I met Frank five years later. He was a kind decent man. He helped me with chores around the house; he got to know my boys and took them under his wing.

When the Korean War broke, he enlisted. We wrote to each other then after a while, I didn’t hear anything from him. I was frantic with worry. I loved him but never told him. I didn’t want to face the pain of losing another man I loved to the death and destruction of war, and feared that I already had.

When I got word that he was on his way back home after being wounded in battle, I vowed that I would tell him my true feelings. After he recovered from his injuries, he came to see me. Before he could get a word out, I told him I loved him.

Frank pulled me into his arms and cried. He told me he had come to ask for my hand in marriage because his love for me gave him the strength to survive. We were married a month later. I won’t say our married life was always happy but I will treasure our time together until the end of my days. And so will our four children."

"Thank you Monica," Maxwell said leaving a light kiss on her cheek. "I think you were the sign I was looking for."

She smoothed her hand across his cheek and smiled.

"I’m not a sign; I’m an old woman who understands your pain and heartache. It took the love of friends and family for me to realize that by not taking a second chance on love and happiness, I would be missing one of life’s greatest pleasures. And that Maxwell is a sin in itself."

* * * * *

Niles entered the living room at the same time Maxwell opened the door from the entryway and stepped inside the house. Handing Niles his coat, he walked over to the foyer table and sorted through the mail.

"Ms. Babcock called for you. Several times. Demanding to know your whereabouts."

"CC knows I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself."

Niles arched his eyebrow. Who was this man and what did he do with Mr. Sheffield?

"She asked that you call her the minute you came in."

"Whatever it is can wait until morning." Dropping the remainder of the mail on the table, Maxwell said, "I’ll take dinner in my office."

He heard his employer humming Tosca: Recondita Armonia as he happily strolled from the living room.

Hidden Harmony? Niles thought as he entered the kitchen. As he prepared Maxwell’s tray, various ideas bounced wildly around in his head.

He’s been out all day, his whereabouts unknown. He blows Babcock off – Niles smirked. She wishes.

Dismissing his secret insult, he continued to grab at random thoughts. He blows Babcock off and when he comes home, he hums an Italian love song. Niles’ eyes widened in shock.

Could it be? Is the man finally ready?

Just as the idea entered his head, Fran entered the kitchen from the backstairs. Watching his friend gaze into the refrigerator, a devilish grin formed on Niles’ face.

"Ms. Fine, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Sure Niles. What can I do for you?"

"Would you take this tray to Mr. Sheffield’s office?"

"Is he just coming home?"

"Yes. He’s taking his meal in his office."

"To borrow a quote from the man, there’s a shocker." Fran fluffed her hair then smoothed her hand over her skirt. When Fran caught Niles staring at her, she smiled. "What? I don’t want to look like a schlub when I bring the man his dinner."

"Of course not Ms. Fine." Holding the swing door open of her, Niles waited until she was out of earshot. "That’s exactly what I counted on."

* * * * *

Maxwell leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed, enjoying the silence that engulfed the house. He welcomed the stillness. It was during these times he reflected on his life. Many late nights he sat in his office and contemplated Fran’s place in his life.

He had known for some time that he wanted her to be in his life. Over the years, her role changed from being his children’s nanny and friend to forbidden thoughts of having her as his lover.

During the course of the last six months, his vision shifted and he began to see her in a different capacity. His visit to the cemetery was the first step in solidifying their future.

The soft tapping of high heels striking the floor shook Maxwell from his musings. He opened his eyes to the sight of Fran entering his office with a tray of food.

"Good evening Mr. Sheffield. Niles asked me to bring this to you."

"Good evening Ms. Fine. Thank you. That was very kind of you to do so."

"No problem."

Setting the tray on the edge of his desk, Fran began to exit his office when Maxwell stopped her.

"You’re not going to stay Ms. Fine?"

"You want me too?"

"Of course I want you to. Please sit down and keep me company. I hate dining alone."

Arching her eyebrow, Fran folded her arms across her chest. "Since when?"

"It’s a perfunctory necessity at times that I’ve come to accept; however, I would like the pleasure of your companionship while I eat."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Maxwell watched the sway of Fran’s hips as she walked over to the couch. Mesmerized by the simple action of her hand smoothing her skirt over her hips, his eyes took in the gentle motion of Fran crossing her legs.

"So how was your day Mr. Sheffield?" When he didn’t respond, she waved her hand to catch his attention. "Yoo hoo, Mr. Sheffield?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Maxwell said, "I’m sorry Ms. Fine. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"What?"

"What were you thinking about Mr. Sheffield?" Mumbling to herself, Fran said, "As if I didn’t know."

"What did you say Ms. Fine?"

"I said I’d like to know. What you were thinking about."

"Oh. I was thinking…would you join me on the terrace for dinner? It’s much more congenial than sitting in the office."

Fran smiled as she rose from the couch. "That’s a great idea but there’s one problem."

"What’s that Ms. Fine?"

"It’s eight thirty at night, it’s a little too chilly to sit outside, and it’s winter."

"It’s not winter until after the twenty first Ms. Fine, but I see your point. Will you join me in the dining room instead then?" Taking a few short steps, she reached out to lift the tray from his desk. "No Ms. Fine," he replied picking up the tray, "I’ll get this."

Maxwell followed Fran out of the office and into the dining room. Setting the tray on the table, he held out a chair for her to sit down. As she settled in her seat, he closed his eyes and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her perfume.

"Would you care for something to drink Ms. Fine?"

"Yes that would be great."

"Anything in particular or should I just surprise you?"

With a quick wink, Fran replied, "Surprise me."

She waited until Maxwell left the dining room before plucking a slice of roast beef from his plate. Licking the aus jus from her lips, Fran contemplated her employer’s behavior. She sensed a change but what that change was, she wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t the fact that he was gentlemanly toward her. He had always been but Fran suspected something else triggered his actions. She waved her hand, dismissing the idea.

Maybe I’m just imagining the whole thing.

Fran reached out to snag another piece of beef when she heard the swing door open. Quickly consuming the sliced meat, she flicked her tongue across her lips. She folded her hands on the table and sat back in her chair.

Balancing a plate, two glasses, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the serving dish, Maxwell took slow calculated steps toward Fran. Placing the tray on the table, he poured them each a glass of wine.

"Sorry for the delay. I thought I’d fix you a light snack."

"You fixed me a snack?"

"All right," he conceded, "I had Niles fix you something. Don’t I get points for bringing it to you myself?"

"Yes you do." A delicate smile graced her features. "It was very sweet of you to bring me a nosh Mr. Sheffield. What did you bring me?"

"Just a variety of fruits, cheeses, and little dessert."

Her smile widened when he set the plate in front of her. Maxwell pushed the trays toward the middle of the table then quickly returned to his seat. Settling next to Fran, he picked up his wine glass and held it out to make a toast.

"To a lovely companion and a wonderful evening."

"Mr. Sheffield," she teased, "have you been in the wine a little early tonight? What’s gotten into you?"

Maxwell bit the inside of his jaw to keep his focus off the wicked reply that threatened to leave his mouth.

"I have not been drinking nor has anything gotten into me. I’m just in a good mood."

"Apparently. Mazel tov Mr. Sheffield."

Maxwell spotted a droplet of gravy on the corner of Fran’s lips. The idea of kissing her, of tasting both Fran and the aus jus, sent his mind spiraling into a forbidden realm. Taking a quick sip of wine, Maxwell dismissed the illicit thoughts from his mind.

"Ms. Fine?"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"Did you happen to sample a piece of roast beef from my plate?"

"Why do you ask?"

He handed Fran a napkin and tapped his lips where the bead of aus jus clung to her mouth. Blotting her lips with the crisp linen cloth, Fran smiled sheepishly then picked up a slice of Fontina cheese.

"So Mr. Sheffield how was your day?"

"Not bad. I spent the day – " He abruptly stopped his automatic response to her.

No need to tell her where I’ve been. She’ll find out soon enough.

"Mr. Sheffield? Are you okay?"

"Oh. Yes Ms. Fine. I’m all right. As far as my day is concerned, I spent the first part of the morning consulting with a colleague and the rest of the day researching a potential new project."

Not a complete lie, he thought. It was close enough to the truth for now.

"How was your day Ms. Fine? Anything interesting happen?"

"It was okay. After the kids came home from school, ma dropped by to kvetch."

"About what?"

She watched Maxwell over the rim of the goblet as she sipped the hearty red wine.

This quiet intimate evening is going so well. I don’t want to spoil it with Ma’s harping about his lack of commitment and her need for grandchildren.

Maxwell’s voice broke the haze of insecurity that settled over her. Setting the glass on the table, Fran popped an apple slice in her mouth.

"Ms. Fine? What was your mother kvetching about?"

"Nothing really important."

They made small talk for the remainder of the evening, discussing a variety of topics from the children to his latest play. After they finished their shared meal, Fran held the swing door open as Maxwell carried the trays to the kitchen.

They worked in sync, loading the dishwasher and returning the serving platters to their proper place. Once they finished, Maxwell led Fran to the living room.

"Thank you for keeping me company Ms. Fine."

"You’re welcome Mr. Sheffield. I’ll let you get back to work."

Maxwell had to think fast. He wanted her to stay but couldn’t find a legitimate reason that Fran would believe. Scanning the room, he said a quick silent thank you when he spotted his inspiration.

"Actually, I was going to watch a little television before bed."

He picked up the remote and switched on the television set. Flipping through the channels, Maxwell didn’t see anything that grabbed his interest.

"Wait!" Fran said seizing his arm. "Go back a couple of channels. Stop!" She grabbed the remote from Maxwell and settled on the sofa. "Oh good, it’s still early in the movie."

Sitting next to her, Maxwell asked, "What movie is this Ms. Fine?"

"It’s called Dead Again. Emma Thompson plays this woman with amnesia who shows up at an orphanage and Kenneth Branagh plays this private detective trying to help her but they also play Margaret and Roman Strauss.

Someone stabbed Margaret to death and a jury convicted Roman for her murder. On the day of his execution, Roman summoned this reporter named Gray Baker, played by Andy Garcia, to jail. The guard in the cell wrote a book later on saying that Roman made a confession to Gray Baker.

It’s got all these great twist and turns in the plot. The flashbacks in the movie are in black and white. As they start to piece together her past, Mike and Grace begin to fall for each other. A real thriller."

"You don’t seem like the thriller type Ms. Fine."

"It’s a romantic thriller Mr. Sheffield."

Fran spent the movie nestled in the crook of Maxwell’s arm. She felt his body shift and assumed he was uncomfortable at the romantic scenes between the two main characters but was pleasantly surprised when he drew his arm around her.

Maxwell gave her shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance during the climatic scene between the protagonists and their adversary. He lost track of the movie, preferring instead to study the woman beside him.

There was no one like Fran. She had the unique ability to create and solve havoc within the same breath. At times, she was a paradox: sweet and innocent with a gentle sensibility and intelligence countered by her over the top, sultry, irrational, and impulsive nature.

The extraordinary blend in her personality, her being, drew him to her. At the center of it all, underneath the superficial layers and facets Fran showed the outside world, was a strong, sensitive, and caring woman who wanted, needed, and deserved love. Maxwell hoped he could live up to her expectations.

The shift of Fran’s body leaning forward to turn off the television snapped him from his musings. Setting the remote on the coffee table, she ensconced herself in Maxwell’s loose embrace.

"Wasn’t that movie great? I never get tired of watching it. Of course that Kenneth Branagh’s not bad to look at either."

He arched his eyebrow and pulled his arm away from her. "It was a good movie. I’m glad you found it Ms. Fine."

"I’m glad I found it too. It had everything: a little drama, a little mystery, a little romance. Don’t you agree Mr. Sheffield?"

"Yes," he replied, "I completely agree."

The husky tone of his voice surprised Fran. The timbre of his words wrapped around her, infusing itself in her soul. Time suspended around them as Maxwell reached out for her, unaware that she was gravitating toward him.

He traced the contours of her face with the back of his hand. Tipping her chin upward, his thumb caressed her cheek as his fingers cradled the side of her neck.

"Ms. Fine," he murmured leaving a whisper of a kiss on her lips.

Fran felt Maxwell begin to pull away. Sliding her hands over his shoulders, she tangled her fingers in his soft ebony tresses. Fran held his mouth to hers, burning with the slow heat of their shared kiss.

Her lips parted under the gentle teasing of his tongue against the crease of her mouth. Locking his arms around her slender frame, Maxwell used his weight to pin her body to the sofa. His lips followed the curve of her arched neck down to the hollow of her throat.

Maxwell drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her perfume dabbed in the valley of her breasts. He brushed his thumb across her lips and met her mouth in a tender kiss.

"What perfume are you wearing Ms. Fine?"

"It’s called Pleasures Mr. Sheffield."

"Indeed it is," he whispered and captured her lips with his again.

Fran pushed against his chest to break their kiss. She stared at him, awed by the desire reflected in the depths of his eyes. Maxwell held her gaze; he ran his hand over her thigh then stopped at the curve of her waist.

He saw the taut peaks of her breasts outlined against the cashmere v-neck sweater. Fran’s features blurred when Maxwell bent down to claim her mouth once more. Tracing tender kisses over her neck, his fingers slipped beneath her sweater, inching across her bare skin. He reached out to cover the satin bra cup when they heard an unexpected yet very audible gasp.

Maggie stood frozen in the middle of the living room. Knowing how her father and Fran felt about each other and seeing an actual display of their affection shut down all of her rational thoughts.

"Margaret!"

"Maggie!"

Maxwell snatched his hand from underneath Fran’s sweater and pushed himself off her body.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Good night."

Maggie turned and fled the living room. Running his fingers through his hair, Maxwell paced the floor and blew out a harsh breath.

"Oh my god!"

"Mr. Sheffield," Fran said rising from the sofa, "it’ll be okay."

"How can it be okay when Margaret walked in on you and me…you know."

"What, making out?"

"Did you have to put it like that?"

"Well it’s not like we were having sex!"

"Please keep your voice down Ms. Fine. Do you want everyone in the house to hear you?"

"Just calm down Mr. Sheffield. We’ll wait until morning to discuss this with Maggie."

He shook his head vehemently. "I’m not so sure we should wait until morning. We have to explain what happened as soon as possible."

"And what exactly are you going to tell Maggie? That we were caught up in a moment that should have never happened?" When Maxwell didn’t respond, Fran folded her arms across her chest. "You regret what happened, don’t you?"

"Ms. Fine, it’s not that simple."

"It seems simple enough to me."

Fran headed for the stairs but Maxwell reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

"Ms. Fine, let me explain."

"I don’t think there’s anything left to explain Mr. Sheffield. Please let go of me."

"Be reasonable Ms. Fine. You’ve got to understand my position here."

"Don’t you think I understand how embarrassing it is to be caught, especially by one of the kids? It’s not the end of the world Mr. Sheffield. The only thing we were doing was kissing."

"It was a lot more than kissing Ms. Fine."

"Then what was it Mr. Sheffield?"

Maxwell’s gaze fell from Fran, unsure of how to explain his thoughts. He wanted to tell her how he felt, to elaborate on the feelings she brought out in him but it wasn’t the right time. He needed to talk to Maggie about what she saw.

Fran watched the myriad of emotions cross his face. Part of her wanted to relent and ease his confusion but she also wanted him to explain what their shared evening meant.

Was this just another game to him? A guilty pleasure that he allowed himself until he was caught?

She threw up her hands at his continued silence. She needed to get away from him. She needed time alone to think about everything including her future in his life.

"Good night Mr. Sheffield. We can pretend this never happened."

"Ms. Fine, we can’t pretend nothing happened."

"Sure we can. It’s easy. It’s how I’ve gotten through the last year and a half."

Fran misread the dark emotions reflected in his eyes as anger. Sinking her nails in her palm, she closed her eyes and steeled herself against his impending argument.

Wait a minute. I’ve heard all his excuses. What’s the point of fighting when nothing’s going to change and he won’t see reason?

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak but Fran cut him off.

"Never mind Mr. Sheffield. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’ll talk to Maggie in the morning."

He wanted to stop her, to talk things out with her but his words stalled in his throat. Maxwell stood rooted to the floor watching Fran disappear up the staircase. Instead of one woman to explain himself to, now he had two.

"Damn!"

* * * * *

With the exception of a few glimpses around the mansion, Maxwell hardly saw Fran in the last two days. He needed to talk to her and iron out their misunderstanding. The mood of the house was different when they weren’t speaking.

He turned toward the terrace and leaned back in his chair. Closing his eyes, Maxwell replayed the other night in his mind. A delicious shot of pleasure and need coursed through him remembering how her body felt underneath his.

Maxwell couldn’t stop his wandering mind from continuing the scenario of what could have happened if Maggie hadn’t walked in on them.

Would I have taken the risk and made love to her in the living room?

He remembered feeling her stomach contract as his fingers crept under her cashmere sweater and the pliancy of her mouth beneath his. Maxwell drew a deep breath. The memory of her perfume filled and overwhelmed his senses.

His arousal stirred under the recollection of his hand nearing her bra. Maxwell remembered the softness of her skin as his hand reached out, anticipating the feel of her –

"Dad? Are you busy?"

Maxwell opened his eyes at the familiar sound of his eldest daughter’s voice. He turned to find Maggie standing just inside the doorway.

What are the odds that Margaret would interrupt both my fantasy and reality of being with Ms. Fine twice in one week?

Brushing the illicit thoughts aside, Maxwell waved his daughter into his office.

"What can I do for you sweetheart?"

"May I have a couple hundred dollars?"

"You have credit cards Margaret, why do you need money as well?"

"I’m going shopping, and Brighton and Gracie are coming with me. I would have asked Fran but she’s not here."

Maxwell tried to control the worried thought that crossed his face.

"She’s not?"

"No. Fran left over an hour ago."

"Do you know where she went?"

"Somewhere with Sylvia I guess."

"Oh."

He recognized the hurtful sound in his voice and cleared his throat to dismiss it. When he looked at Maggie, Maxwell could see a look of apprehension in her eyes. Knowing she was worried about the awkwardness between himself and Fran, he gave Maggie a reassuring smile.

Fran’s God knows where and Niles is out of the house grocery shopping.

Maggie could see the shift in her father’s thoughts reflected on his face. She didn’t normally see that look, at least coming from him. There were only two people that Maggie knew of that seemed to be calculating at any given moment.

Knowing her father didn’t pick up the devious expression from her brother, she smiled inwardly and wondered if he realized how much of an influence Fran had on his life.

"Where are your brother and sister?"

"Waiting for me in the living room."

His lips curved upward into a grin. Maxwell realized that this was a rare opportunity and decided to take advantage of the situation while he had the chance.

"Go get your brother and sister. I want to talk to all three of you."

* * * * *

Brighton and Grace followed Maggie into their father’s office with a reluctant curiosity. She couldn’t offer any details as to why he wanted to see them.

"The only thing I can tell you," Maggie said, "is that he got this goofy look on his face just before he told me to come get both of you."

Maxwell was standing at the terrace doors with his hands clasped behind his back. When he heard the last shuffled footstep, he turned and walked back to his desk.

"Before you three go traipsing off to the mall, I want to talk to you."

"Is something wrong daddy?" Grace asked.

"Not necessarily wrong sweetheart. There’s a change in the household I’m considering and I want your opinion."

Brighton tilted his head in a sideways glance. "This is about Fran, isn’t it?"

Maxwell glimpsed down, drawing light circles with the edge of his finger. Raising his eyes to meet his son, he breathed out a light sigh.

"Yes."

Maggie took a few cautious steps forward. "Dad, does this have to do with what happened the other night?"

"It’s uh – " Maxwell looked at his children and sat down under the weight of their gaze. "Yes."

"Please don’t fire her daddy," Grace pleaded.

"I’m not going to fire her."

"If you’re not firing her, then why do you want to talk to us about Fran?" Brighton asked.

Maxwell rose from his chair and began to pace. He could feel his children’s eyes following each step. He had to stop stalling and tell them what was on his mind.

If I can’t be up front with the children, how can I be up front with Ms. Fine?"

"You all know that Ms. Fine has been apart of our family for the last five years. In that time, as we’ve grown closer, I’ve come to – I’ve come to harbor certain feelings for her."

Maggie folded her arms across her chest and blew out a frustrated breath.

"Daddy, are you trying to tell us that you’re in love with Fran?"

Maxwell began pacing the floor again when Grace walked over and stopped him in mid stride. He looked down at his youngest child and returned her smile.

"Yes, I love – I’m in love with Ms. Fine."

"Don’t you think you should at least call her Fran dad?" Grace asked.

Maxwell chuckled. "I will sweetheart. What I wanted to talk to you all about was since I will be acting on my feelings for Ms. Fine – I mean Fran, I wanted to be sure that you all are going to be okay with it. I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t meet your approval."

"That’s why you wanted to see us?" Brighton replied in irritation. "Dad, you and Fran are already married."

"What do you mean?"

Maggie shook her head in wonder. Could dad be anymore dense or blind?

"Dad, you’ve treated Fran like your wife and our mother almost from the beginning. She’s gone to premieres of your plays, you’ve gone on dates, and we spend family time together. She’s the first person you look for when you enter a room and if she’s not around, you want to know where she is."

Brighton picked up the thread of Maggie’s statement. "That’s true dad. If Fran goes out on a date, you get all goofy and jealous until she comes home. What I don’t get is what took you so long to realize how you felt about her."

"Margaret, Brighton, there are some things you wouldn’t understand."

"What wouldn’t we understand?" Maggie asked. "You loved mom. We loved mom too and when she died, we missed her terribly. Then Fran came into our lives and turned everything around. She made us a family again."

Reading the resistance on her father’s face, Maggie paused then tried another tactic.

"Do you think mom would want you to throw away your chance at happiness? I know that you’ll always love mom just like we will but we love Fran too. What’s worse than being in love and having no one to share it with?"

Grace tugged softly on Maxwell’s sleeve. "Besides daddy, we already think of Fran as our mom."

He looked at his children in awe. "You do?"

"Well yeah dad," Brighton replied. "She’s been there for us and loved us no matter what we do."

"So you three have no problem with me pursuing a relationship with Fran?"

Maggie and Brighton looked at each other and shook their head. Grace bit back the laughter that threatened to burst from her body.

"No Daddy, we don’t have a problem with you pursuing a relationship with Fran. We want you to. Even though I really don’t remember mom, Fran will never let us forget her."

Maxwell closed his eyes in acceptance. With a wide smile, he hugged each of his children. Opening his wallet, Maxwell stuffed a wad of money in Maggie’s hand.

"Go. Have fun shopping."

* * * * *

Fran sat at a table near the center of the food court picking at the chocolate dipped macaroon in front of her. She left the Sheffield mansion intent on drowning her sorrows in a shopping spree but none of the Christmas sales perked her up.

She popped a piece of the coconut cookie in her mouth and sighed. Her life with Maxwell had become too complicated and its complexity began to weigh her down. It was never a secret that he wanted her; the way he held her and kissed her spoke volumes of his desire for her, more than anything he could ever say.

Deep down, she knew he loved her. Fran had endlessly replayed their evening together in her head. A smoldering desire for him infused in her soul under the soft slow caress of his lips upon hers.

She closed her eyes; the memory of his hand molding itself to the curve of her waist haunted her. Fran’s breath caught. The sensation of his fingers moving up her body seemed all too real.

Stop torturing yourself Fran! Reminiscing about that night won’t do you any good. Nothing’s going to change. Leave it in the past!

"Fran?"

Her eyes snapped open, surprised by the gentle baritone voice. She smiled at the man in front of her, wondering how long he had been standing there.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was out. Wandering around really. As I was about to leave, I spotted you. How are you Fran?"

"I’ve been better."

He glanced down at the partially eaten cookie. "What’s bothering you?"

"Why do you think something’s bothering me?"

"There’s three quarters of a chocolate dipped macaroon sitting in front of you."

Fran laughed. "You know me too well." She glanced down then looked at her companion as he slid into the empty chair across from her. "How are you Doug?"

"I’ve been okay. I’ve missed you. Sometimes I think if I hadn’t been such a schmuck, we could have still been together."

"You weren’t a schmuck Doug. You were a putz."

"Ah, yes. I stand corrected."

"I don’t know if you realize it or not but you’re not standing."

"I was wondering why I felt so short!"

His eyes flickered over Fran as her face lit up with laughter. Running his fingers through his sandy blond hair, Doug smiled at her.

"Fran Fine, are you flirting with me?"

"No! I’m not – " She paused then greeted him with a smile. "Yeah, I guess I am. A little."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No…not really."

"You hesitated. What’s going on Fran?"

Picking at the edge of her cookie, Fran shrugged. "It’s a bit complicated." As he opened his mouth to speak, she reached across the table and placed her finger over his mouth. "I’ll explain. No, I’m not currently seeing anyone."

"But there’s someone you’re interested in?"

Fran nodded. "I’m not sure he’s interested in me. At least personally."

"Who is it?"

"My boss."

"Maxwell Sheffield, right?"

"Yes."

Doug’s eyes shifted downward, watching the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the table. He slowly lifted his eyes and met her soft gaze.

"I don’t mean to pry but what’s going on with you two? Are you involved with him Fran?"

"No, not like that. We’ve become good friends over the past five years. I care for him and he cares for me. I love his kids as if they were my own."

Doug cocked his head to the side and studied Fran. He watched her head drop, attempting to veil the strong emotions reflected in her eyes.

"You’re in love with him aren’t you?"

"I could lie and deny it," she said popping another piece of cookie in her mouth, "but what would be the point?"

"Have you told him?"

"You mean have I marched into his office and openly confessed my undying love?" Fran shook her head. "No. That’s not exactly my style."

"What about him? How does he feel about you?"

"I’m not really sure. Our relationship is…convoluted."

He looked at Fran with a sideways glance then gave her a mischievous smile.

"And something you don’t want to discuss?"

"Not really."

"I don’t want to confuse you but I miss you Fran."

"Doug, – "

"At least hear me out. You were the best thing that happened to me and I was foolish enough to let you slip through my fingers. I don’t want to complicate your life any further but if it’s possible, I’d like to have another chance."

"I don’t know Doug. So much has happened since then."

"Would you consider giving me another chance?"

He could read the hesitation in her eyes. Without giving her a chance to think, Doug took her hand.

"What do you say? Hopefully, it’ll give me an opportunity to kiss those infamous lips painted Cadillac Red."

"Doug!" Fran replied swatting his arm. "You’re terrible."

"At least think about it Fran."

Fran studied the man sitting across from her. Doug was earthy, accessible, and real.

"Is your number the same?"

"Unlike me, the number hasn’t changed."

Maybe Doug is a sign. He may not be Maxwell Sheffield but it’s apparent that I need to get over him and move on with my life.

Glancing down at her watch, she gasped in shock. "I didn’t realize it was this late! I need to get home."

He stood and helped her with her coat. "Will you call me Fran?"

"Yes Doug, I promise I’ll call you."

* * * * *

Niles stepped into the living room just as the doorbell rang. He could see a tall blond pacing outside the portico. From the brief glimpses of the passing figure, Niles hoped it was his nemesis fully recovered from her illness but realized it was a man.

How can I be sure? After all, the test results aren't back yet.

He wiped the smirk from his face and pulled the door open. Niles recognized the man that entered the house immediately. Doug Abrams was the last person he ever expected to cross the Sheffield threshold.

"Good evening. I’m here to pick up Fran."

"Just a moment Mr. Abrams."

Niles ignored the shocked expression that crossed Doug’s face as he headed up the staircase. Reaching Fran’s room, he took a deep breath then lightly tapped on the door. When he heard the rattle of the doorknob, Niles took a step back.

"Your date is here Ms. Fine."

"Would you tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes?"

"If I must."

"What are you PMS’ing?"

"Why is he here?"

"Doug is my date. That’s why he’s here."

"Ms. Fine, I don’t understand. I thought your relationship with Mr. Sheffield was progressing."

"Niles, I’ve come to realize that Mr. Sheffield, for whatever reason, can’t or won’t commit to a relationship with me other than friendship. It’s time that I stop hoping and wishing that he’ll come around and move on with my life."

"But Ms. Fine, you broke up with Mr. Abrams. Why would you start dating him again?"

Fran sighed. Leaning against the frame of the door, she folded her arms across her chest and looked into her friend’s eyes.

"I broke up with Doug because things in his life were in disarray and I had no place in it. Although we went our separate ways, he is still a good friend. Too many times, I’ve let my feelings for Mr. Sheffield stand in the way of my relationships. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m not pinning all my hopes for an everlasting relationship on Doug. We’re just two friends going out. But if something happens between us, I’m not going to stop it."

Niles nodded solemnly. "Very well Ms. Fine. I’ll let Mr. Abrams know that you’ll be ready in a few minutes."

* * * * *

It was nearly ten o’clock as Doug drove through Manhattan. Easing the metallic blue Mustang along the semi-deserted streets, he parked the car across from the Sheffield mansion. Shutting off the motor, he turned to face Fran.

"I had a good time tonight."

"Me too. It was a really good movie."

"You weren’t watching the movie, you were watching Tom Cruise."

"That’s not fair Doug. I did both."

He laughed, lacing their fingers together. Bringing her hand to his lips, Doug left a gentle kiss there and smiled.

"When can I see you again?"

"Honestly I don’t know. It’s getting closer to the holidays and I’m usually with my family."

"Not that I’m adding any pressure but Christmas and Hanukkah aren’t that far away. My window of opportunity is closing before familial and work related obligations get in the way."

"I don’t look at my time with the Sheffields as an obligation. They’re my family too."

"I’m sorry. I know how highly you think of them. I just meant that hopefully I can look forward to another date with the fabulous Fran Fine."

"Maybe. I’ll have to get back with you. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Like I said no pressure. Come on, I’ll walk you home."

"Doug, the house is right across the street."

"Yeah but someone might want to molest you on the way home."

"Would that someone be you?"

"Could be."

Doug opened the door then rounded the car to the passenger’s side. Holding out his hand, he helped Fran from the car. Linking his arm with hers, they crossed the street and walked up to the front door.

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner and to the movies."

"Thank you for accepting the invitation. You had me worried. For a minute I didn’t think you would."

Doug cradled her jaw in his hand. Gazing into her eyes, he leaned into Fran. He meant to leave a light friendly peck on the cheek but Doug couldn’t resist the temptation of kissing her. Titling her chin upward, he swiped his lips across hers and claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss.

"Good night Fran."

The warmth of his kiss sent a shockwave through her body. Fran stared at him, her mind a cascade of rampant thoughts.

Doug watched the chaotic emotions play across her face. "Fran, I – "

"I’ll talk to you later Doug. Good night."

* * * * *

Maxwell wandered into the living room, skimming through the latest script he planned to option. Passing by the door, he did a double take when he spotted Fran and her date standing in front of the outer door.

He closed his eyes, desperate to block out the picture of Fran with her ex-boyfriend. It took him months to banish the image of Danny mauling her in the living room when she was going to leave them four years ago.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of the front door opening. Maxwell froze, his mind awash in panic. He was trapped, unable to flee the room before Fran entered the house.

Fran gasped at the sight of Maxwell staring at her blankly as he stood near the foyer table.

"Mr. Sheffield! What are you doing out here?"

Maxwell blinked, shaken from his reverie. "What? Oh. I was – " He tapped the edge of the forgotten script with his hand. Saying a silent thank you, he continued. "I was reading this script on the way to my office when I heard a noise outside."

Closing the door behind her, Fran hung her coat in the closet and stepped into the living room.

"Have you been standing there the entire time spying on me?"

"I assure you Ms. Fine I was not spying on you."

Folding her arms across her chest, Fran titled her head to one side and stared at him. Ignoring the expression on her face, Maxwell turned the page of the manuscript.

"So, how was your date with Mr. Abrams?"

"How did…Niles. I swear that yenta can’t keep a thing to himself."

"Are you planning on seeing him again?"

"I’m not – " Fran unfolded her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "Wait a minute. Why am I explaining myself to you? It’s none of your business if I decide to see Doug again."

"Ms. Fine, I’m your friend and I’m concerned about you. He broke up with you before. What guarantee do you have that things will be different this time?"

"Not that I need to explain myself to you but I broke up with him. And I’m not looking for a guarantee, I’m looking for a man that treats me with respect, who values my opinion, and is willing to love me openly and honestly."

"Ms. Fine, – "

"If you’ll excuse me Mr. Sheffield, it’s been a long evening. Good night."

Maxwell stared open mouthed at Fran as she escaped up the staircase. He knew he needed to go to her, to straighten things out between them but he couldn’t make himself follow her. Drawing a deep breath, Maxwell raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a harsh sigh.

How in God’s name do I get myself into these predicaments?

* * * * *

Fran lay in the center of the bed staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, except for the faint beam of moonlight seeping between her curtains. With a slight turn of her head, she gazed at the clock on her nightstand.

Only two minutes had passed since Fran last checked the time. With a heavy sigh, her eyes shifted toward the ceiling once more. Her active mind wouldn’t let her find peace, rewinding and replaying the moment leading up to Doug’s kiss.

She absently ran her fingertips across her lips. Fran could still feel the lingering impression of his mouth against hers. His sweet gentle kiss held the promise of something other than friendship. She knew he wanted to renew their relationship but her feelings for Maxwell clouded her thinking.

Every time I’m ready to move on with my life, Mr. Sheffield does something to throw me off balance.

Fran turned, punching her pillow in frustration as the image of her body beneath Maxwell surfaced in her mind. Her mind refused to vanquish the memories of their night in the living room.

A shiver of desire echoed in her body. Fran could still see the hypnotic way his eyes locked with her own as his fingers crawled sensuously across her midriff.

Her body amplified the heat radiating from his hand, anticipating the moment when Maxwell’s fingers would cover her breast. She wondered how far they would have gone if Maggie hadn’t walked into the living room and broken the erotic spell around them.

On many occasions, Fran wished she didn’t love him, didn’t need him the way she did. Their beings were intertwined and no matter what happened between them, Fran knew she’d love Maxwell until the day she died.

Her body shifted in bed and curled into a fetal position. She closed her eyes. Nipping her lower lip with the edge of her teeth, Fran drew in a shuddery breath. She brushed the track of tears from her face, wiping the moisture away from her eyes.

I might as well face the truth. He’s never going to love me the way that I love him.

A pang of sorrow curled in her stomach and slowly spread throughout her body. Fran grabbed the pillow beneath her head and clutched it to her chest.

She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to spend another night mourning over what should have been between herself and Maxwell but Fran felt helpless in controlling her turbulent emotions.

"I love you Mr. Sheffield. I’ll love you forever," she whispered muffling her plaintive sobs in her pillow.

* * * * *

Maggie was surprised to see Fran completely dressed so early in the morning. She smiled, imagining how pleased her father would be when he saw her. Briefly, Maggie wondered how long it would take her father to ask Fran to marry him.

"Morning Fran."

Clutching her hand to her chest, Fran let out a sigh of relief. "Sweetie! Don’t do that."

"I’m sorry Fran," Maggie said, "You’re awfully dressed up for breakfast this morning."

"I’m not having breakfast with the family. I’m going out."

"Oh. Are you meeting your mom or Val?"

"No. I’m meeting someone for breakfast."

"Who are you having breakfast with?"

"Do you remember my friend Doug?"

"You’re dating him again?"

Fran blinked at Maggie in wide-eyed surprise. "What the hell is wrong with everybody? We’re just two friends having breakfast."

"You don’t usually dress that sexy to have breakfast with a friend. And what about daddy?"

"What about him?"

"I thought that you and daddy were – "

"Maggie, let me explain something to you. Your father only wants to be my friend. He has no interest in pursuing a relationship. That’s his decision and I have to respect that. I can’t keep waiting around hoping that one day he’ll change his mind."

Broad fingers of panic clutched and knotted in Maggie’s stomach. She curled her hand, sinking her nails into her palm.

This can’t be good. If Fran’s seeing Doug, then obviously daddy hasn’t spoken with her.

"Fran, wait."

"I’m sorry Maggie. I’m running late. I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay?"

* * * * *

Maxwell had just settled in his chair when Maggie rushed into the dining room. He glanced at his daughter then turned his focus on the business section of the newspaper, waiting for Niles to serve breakfast.

"Daddy, I thought you were going to talk with Fran."

"She was a little upset last night. But don’t worry Margaret, I’ll talk to her."

"When?"

"Right after Ms. – right after Fran comes downstairs."

"Then you’ll have to wait until she comes back."

Maxwell glanced up in surprise. "She’s not home?"

"No. She has a breakfast date."

"Relax Maggie," Brighton replied, "Fran’s probably meeting her mother or Val."

Dropping the newspaper on top of the empty plate, Maxwell raked his fingers through his hair. Although he hoped he was wrong, he knew who Fran’s breakfast companion would be.

Maggie studied her father. She watched his posture steel in realization of whom Fran would be meeting.

"You know don’t you?"

"Know what Maggie?" Grace asked.

"Daddy knows who Fran’s having breakfast with this morning."

Grace set her fork down on the edge of the plate. "Who is Fran having breakfast with daddy?"

Maxwell shifted uncomfortably in his chair as four pairs of eyes trained on him. This was the last discussion he wanted to have now. He cleared his throat then slowly met the eyes of his children and butler.

"Ms. – Fran is having breakfast with Doug Abrams."

Brighton threw his napkin on the table. "What?"

"It’s true," Maggie replied. "She told me before she left."

"I didn’t know they were dating again," Grace said.

"Officially they aren’t," Maxwell countered. "According to Fran, they’re just friends."

Grace looked at her brother and sister then to her father. She shrugged her shoulders before picking through the bowl of fresh cut fruit.

"I don’t understand why that’s such a big deal. Fran is daddy’s friend too."

"Gracie, don’t you get it?" Maggie asked sitting beside her sister. "If daddy hasn’t told Fran how he feels about her, Fran is using Doug to make herself forget about the feelings she has for daddy."

"Dad, you’d better do something about this before it’s too late."

"Do not take that tone of voice with me young man! I am fully aware that I need to speak with Ms. Fine."

"Look daddy, all we’re saying is that – "

"Margaret, I know what the three of you are implying but I doubt if Fran is going to make a rash decision about her future after a few dates."

"But what if they continue to date and he eventually offers Ms. Fine everything she’s ever wanted?"

The focus in the room suddenly shifted as Maxwell, Maggie, Brighton, and Grace turned toward the long silent butler. Setting the plate on the buffet, Niles turned around and faced the family.

"What? It is a legitimate question."

Maggie looked at her father. "He’s right daddy. Doug could offer Fran everything before you have a chance to talk to her."

"You all are worrying over nothing. Margaret, Brighton, Grace, please finish your breakfast."

Niles, Brighton, Maggie, and Grace exchanged worried looks. Dismissing their stares, Maxwell picked up the abandoned newspaper lying across his plate. Under the cover of reading an article on the latest corporate merger, he delved into his secret fear.

Fran couldn’t fall for someone that quickly could she? No, she couldn’t, his conscious shot back. Then again, Doug Abrams isn’t just anyone.

* * * * *

Doug watched Fran half-heartedly stab at the salmon and onion omelet on her plate. Patting his mouth with the edge of his napkin, he took a quick sip of coffee before he spoke.

"Are you going to put that out of its misery?"

"What?"

"The way you’re poking that omelet, it’s dying a slow torturous death."

Fran laughed then looked up at Doug. "I’m sorry. I guess I’m not very good company today."

"You’re always good company Fran."

"Working on your schmoozing skills?"

"Not today. Tomorrow, however, is another matter."

He smiled as her face lit up in laughter. Lacing his fingers with hers, Doug caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"I must say I was a bit surprised when you called me this morning."

"Was that a bad thing?"

"No. It was a very good thing." He brought the back of her hand to his lips. "I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. That’s not true," said Doug correcting himself, "I’m not sorry it happened. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I ran into you at the mall the other day. I am sorry that I’ve thrown you off-kilter."

"I won’t say you thrown me off-kilter Doug. You just…tilted me more than I already am."

A hearty laugh burst from his mouth. He always enjoyed her wry sense of humor. Wiping the corner of his eyes with his fingertips, Doug looked up to see Fran laughing with him.

"Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile?"

A slight blush crept across her face. "Thank you."

Cradling the mug in her hand, Fran closed her eyes and took a sip of coffee. She breathed in the heady aroma as the warmth of the drink seeped into her being. When Fran opened her eyes, she saw Doug gazing at her with a mischievous, crooked smile.

"I’ve always loved coming to Ben’s."

"I love this place too, in spite of the fact that we broke up here." He turned and pointed at a corner table. "Right over there as a matter of fact."

"It was by mutual agreement."

"I know it was. And if it were possible, I’d go back in time and kick myself."

"Why?"

"I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You were the best thing that happened to me Fran. No one else can come close to you."

"Doug, – "

"Hear me out. Even though we both agreed to break up, I realized our relationship ended because of me. I was…too blind, too stupid to understand what I had with you. You are everything I’m looking for in a woman. You’re smart, generous, loving, beautiful, and sexy. Shall I go on?"

When Fran shook her head no, Doug sighed.

"I’m sorry Fran. I wanted to be honest and up front about my feelings for you."

"I can’t answer you right now Doug. You and me, our relationship seems to be happening so fast."

"I’m not pressuring you, really."

"I know you’re not. And I appreciate it but I’m still going to need some time to sort out my feelings."

"Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything."

"I’m glad you did." A bittersweet laugh poured from Fran’s throat. "You don’t know how refreshing it is to be with someone who knows what he wants."

Doug wanted to ask about Maxwell but he wasn’t ready to explore the relationship she had with her employer. Before he had a chance to console Fran, his cell phone rang. Checking the number that flashed across the front, he murmured a soft curse then stood up.

"Excuse me."

Her eyes followed his movements as he exited the restaurant. She said a silent prayer, grateful for the interruption. The last thing she wanted to discuss was her convoluted relationship with Maxwell.

Fran picked up her fork, pushing her abandoned meal around her plate. She tasted a bit of her breakfast then pushed the cold remains aside. Picking up her mug of coffee, Fran swirled the dark liquid then finished the tepid drink.

"Sorry about that," Doug said sliding into his chair.

"It’s not a problem. Is everything all right?"

"No. Fran, I hate to cut our date short. Eric is flipping out because there’s some problem with the invoices so I have to go hold his hand."

"I see things with Eric haven’t changed."

"He’s exceptionally gifted at being a worrywart." Doug sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I’ve already taken care of the bill. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

Slipping into their coats, they exited the restaurant and walked out into the bright December sun. He turned to face Fran, watching the wind play with her dark curly mane. Brushing a lock of hair from her face, Doug’s lips curled into a wide smile.

"Thank you for inviting me to breakfast."

"I should be thanking you. After all you paid."

"How about we call it a draw: great food and great company."

"I can live with that."

"Do you want me to drop you off at home?"

"No. I’ll take a cab home."

"Oh. Wait a minute."

Doug scanned the busy New York streets. Multiple cabs flew by in the morning rush before one finally stopped in front of them. Holding open the door, he helped Fran inside the cab.

"Thanks Doug."

"You’re welcome Fran," he replied kissing her cheek. "I’ll talk to you later."

"Okay."

He gave the cabbie her address then closed the door. As the taxi drove away, he smiled when Fran turned around and waved goodbye to him. Doug whistled as he ventured down the street toward his car.

I know you’re in love with your boss but I think if you give us a chance, we’d make it.

* * * * *

Niles closed the door firmly behind the courier and set the box on the foyer table. It wasn’t unusual to accept Christmas packages for the Sheffields but to have one addressed specifically to Fran raised his internal alarm.

He shook the small package, wrapped perfectly in vibrant blue-red paper. Niles examined the expensive looking gold ribbon that decorated the present. He knew of only one person who would courier a gift to Fran.

Whatever it is, it isn’t breakable. How annoying! Mr. Sheffield better make a move or the next thing he’ll get is an invitation to Ms. Fine and Mr. Abrams’ wedding!

"What’s that Niles?"

The box flew out of Niles’ hand at the sound of Fran’s voice. He held his hand to his chest trying to calm his shaken demeanor. Picking the wrapped gift off the floor, Fran strolled over to her friend.

"Are you okay?"

"What were you trying to do, give me another heart attack?"

She swatted him playfully on the arm. "Who’s this for?"

"Actually it’s for you. It just arrived by courier."

"Really? I wonder who sent it."

"My psychic powers tell me that if you read the card, you’ll know who it’s from."

Fran swatted his shoulder. She tugged at the envelope from underneath the ribbon then set the gift on the table. She pulled the card from its paper cover and scanned the note.

Niles watched her face twist in confusion. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned over and took the card from her hand.

I’d like to résumé the progression of our relationship. Meet me at

Ciao Bella’s on E. 92nd Street tomorrow at 3pm so we may discuss

the situation.

"What an odd message Ms. Fine. I assume Mr. Abrams sent that to you?"

As he read the card, Fran tore off the wrapping paper. Underneath was a leopard print lacquer box. Opening the box, her laughter filled the living room.

Niles looked at his friend with a curious eye. He felt a mixture of happiness and sadness at Fran’s cheerfulness. He wanted her to be happy but not at the expense of their employer.

First they’re dating and now he’s sending her presents? This doesn’t bode well for Mr. Sheffield.

"What did he send you Ms. Fine?"

"A tube of lipstick. And not just any lipstick, he sent my signature color, Cadillac Red."

His sympathy for Maxwell turned quickly to anger.

This is his bloody fault in the first place! Instead of confessing his true feelings, he consistently pushed her away. It would serve him right if she left him for Mr. Abrams.

Niles wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Résumé? Doesn’t he know how to spell Ms. Fine?"

"I don’t care about the note. What I want to know is where he found my lipstick."

"The entire situation is odd. Who writes a note with resume spelled like résumé and sends a tube of lipstick as a gift?"

"It doesn’t matter to me Niles. The man thought enough of me to send me a gift. That act alone earns a gold star in my book." Fran took the note from Niles. Picking up the box, she winked and said, "Call me when dinner’s ready."

He watched her saunter up the steps. Grabbing his feather duster, Niles wandered through the living room dusting the tables. He made his way over to the piano, muttering under his breath as he brushed the keys.

"It’s absurd. Whoever heard of misspelling the word resume and sending a tube of lipstick in a love note?"

Swiping the dust from the pictures on the piano, Niles’ arm froze in mid-swing.

Résumé? Lipstick? His eyes grew wide. No! It can’t be!

The feather duster fell to the floor as Niles scurried toward Maxwell’s office.

* * * * *

"Why did you have a courier deliver an anonymous package to the house for Ms. Fine?" Niles demanded rushing into Maxwell’s office.

"Did you forget to whom you were speaking?"

Maxwell shot up from his chair, motioning to Niles not to respond as he rounded the desk. Checking the hallway, he stepped back into the office and closed the door. Tunneling his fingers through his hair, he blew out a soft sigh. It was only a matter of time before Niles found out about his plan.

First, he calls Ms. Fine by her first name in front of the children, now he’s given her a secret gift. A soft smile crossed Niles’ face. He’s courting her!

Niles didn’t know what grated his nerves more: watching Maxwell pace the floor or being kept out of the loop about his intentions toward Fran. With an exasperated grunt, Niles walked over to his boss and shook him from his trance.

"Sir!"

"What? I’m sorry Niles. I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts together."

"It took less time to put Humpty Dumpty back together again." Ignoring his employer’s scowl, Niles pressed Maxwell for an answer. "Mr. Sheffield, are you going to answer my question?"

"Yes, I am. Have a seat Niles." He waited until Niles settled on the couch before he began. "How did you figure out that I sent the package?"

"When I first read the note, I thought Mr. Abrams couldn’t spell. Then I started thinking about the word résumé and I remembered that Ms. Fine presented her application to you in lipstick. It didn’t take long to put two and two together."

"Ms. Fine received her package did she?"

"Yes sir. You could have knocked her over with a feather when she opened up her gift."

"Does she know who it’s from?"

"She thinks Mr. Abrams sent it."

Niles saw an annoyed twitch ripple across Maxwell’s jaw. His eyes dropped to the curled fist of his employer. Niles had never seen him fight to control his emotions as desperately as Maxwell had over the five years he had known Fran.

Regaining his composure, Maxwell asked, "I take it she’s…enthralled with her gift?"

"The gift and its meaning."

"What do you mean?"

Niles paused unsure of how to answer him. Instead of placating him, he decided to be blunt.

"It was a clear message of affection, devotion. A willingness to commit." Niles tipped his head to the side. "That was your intent was it not?"

"Yes." Maxwell began to pace the floor again. "Why didn’t she get it? Didn’t she understand the message?"

"Perhaps it would have been clarified if the messenger had been willing to impart its meaning a little earlier."

"I get your point Niles. No need to continue to beat that dead horse."

"I take it this means you’re ready to tell Ms. Fine how you feel about her?"

"If she’s still willing to have me."

"Mr. Sheffield, despite all appearances, Ms. Fine is still very much in love with you. But if you don’t make a move soon, how she feels will be irrelevant and she’ll be in the arms of another."

The realization of what was at stake settled across Maxwell’s features. He sat down and turned the chair toward the terrace.

Niles pushed back his shirtsleeve and glanced at his watch. He started toward the door when Maxwell called out to him.

"Niles?"

"Yes sir?"

"It’s not that I don’t know the risks but you’ve given me more to think about. Thank you."

"You’re welcome sir."

"Oh Niles. One last thing?"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"You breathe one word of this to Ms. – to Fran and I will kick you out on your sorry British tuchas."

A flicker of a smile crossed Niles’ face. Pulling the door open, he simply replied, "Don’t worry sir, this time your secret is safe with me. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours."

* * * * *

Maxwell lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His active mind refused to rest. It had been a while since Fran had sat down with him and the children and shared a meal. He smiled recalling the sparkle in her eyes when he mentioned how radiant she looked.

The hiccup from the other night seemed all but forgotten and they were able to share a nice quiet evening together. Then the phone rang and the intrusion shattered his illusion of their family being together.

Thank God she wasn’t on the phone very long. If Fran had the opportunity to thank Mr. Abrams for her gift, he would have questioned her about it. It wouldn’t have taken her very long to figure out that I sent the present to her.

He shifted in bed, drawing a pillow into his arms. Maxwell wished the fragrance he breathed in were Fran’s perfume instead of the clean scent of freshly laundered sheets.

I can’t wait to have you in my bed, in my arms, instead of this conjured fantasy of you my love.

Maxwell closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around the soft elongated feather pillow. His last clear thought before drifting off to sleep was of tomorrow and the dawning of a new era in his relationship with Fran.

* * * * *

Fran preened in the mirror, checking her appearance before she left for Ciao Bella. Fluffing her dark brown curls, she gazed at her reflection. A kernel of uncertainty grew, swelling within her being.

As much as I enjoy Doug’s company, I really don’t feel up to meeting him today. I wonder if he’ll mind if I call and cancel our date?

Her hand passed over the lilac crocheted sweater, her fingers smoothing over the curve of her hips enveloped in the charcoal skirt. She smiled, willing herself to feel some measure of excitement.

Fran, this isn’t like you, she thought as her smile faltered. You’ll have a good time with Doug. Besides, it seems a shame to waste this outfit and makeup. And you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.

Steeling her resolve, a genuine smile crossed Fran’s face. Her eyes shifted to the upper right hand corner of the mirror when she saw Niles pause midway down the staircase. With a quick wink, she focused on her reflection and applied another coat of lipstick.

"You look very fetching today Ms. Fine. Where are you off to?"

"Don’t you remember? I’m meeting Doug at Ciao Bella at three."

"Oh yes," Niles said continuing down the staircase, "now I remember." He stood at the landing as she checked her appearance once last time. "Will you be joining the family for dinner tonight Ms. Fine?"

"Honestly Niles, I don’t know. I’ll call and let you know if I’m going to eat out."

He followed Fran to the closet and held out her charcoal gray faux fur hooded wool cape. She reached out to open the door but before she twisted the doorknob, her laughter filled the room.

"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"

Wiping her eyes, Fran replied, "I’m fine Niles. I just had the funniest thought."

"Obviously. What were you thinking?"

"Well I can laugh about it now but I wasn’t too pleased when it happened."

"What Ms. Fine?"

"Remember a few years ago when I had two dates for Valentine’s Day?"

Niles grinned. "Oh yes. I remember that quite well. You thought Mr. Sheffield was your secret admirer when in actuality it was Master Brighton’s friend Tommy."

"Thanks for the recap. Anyway, I was just thinking that I’m glad that won’t be happening today." Fran glanced down at her watch. "I’m running late! See you later Niles."

* * * * *

Maxwell absently drummed his fingers against his thigh as the limousine maneuvered through the heavy flow of afternoon traffic. He closed his eyes and let his head drop softly against the cushioned headrest.

A mishmash of thoughts swam in his head. He loved Fran. He was ready to share his feelings with her but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to accept them.

What if I’m too late? What if she has already fallen in love with…with him and is ready to move on with her life?

Maxwell pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. His eyes snapped open in unison with his fist striking the cushioned seat.

No! Fran loves me. I know she does. We need each other and I’ll be damned if I lose her to someone else!

His body lurched forward slightly when the car rolled to a stop. Maxwell sat up and stared out the window. Ciao Bella was less than a few blocks away. Glancing down at his wrist, Maxwell was shocked to see that he was twenty minutes behind schedule.

Bloody hell! I hope she’s still there.

He pressed the intercom and waited for the driver to respond.

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"I’ll get out here. When we’re ready, I’ll call you."

"Yes sir."

Taking a deep breath, Maxwell cracked the door open and stepped smoothly from the limousine. Closing the door behind him, he turned to watch the sleek black car continue down the street. As he walked toward Ciao Bella, lines from a Rolling Stone’s song popped into his head.

…Tonight and every night,

I will be your knight in shining armour

Coming to your emotional rescue

You will be mine, you will be mine, all mine

You will be mine, you will be mine, all mine

I will be your knight in shining armour

Riding across the desert with a fine Arab charger

Maxwell failed to smother his burst of laughter. He continued down the street, ignoring the odd looks from passers by.

I will be coming to your emotional rescue, he thought, although my charger runs on a different kind of horsepower.

Maxwell saw Fran sitting at one of the wrought iron tables. The wind played with her hair, fluttering her dark brown locks. He stood a few feet behind her, gathering his courage. He wasn’t sure what to say or how things would turn out but he had no choice. He had to take the chance.

As he drew near the café, Maxwell took several short light breaths to steady himself. He reluctantly pushed aside his desire to draw her into his arms and take her mouth in a searing kiss.

"Hello Ms. Fine."

Fran jumped, startled by the smooth familiar British voice beside her. She held her hand to her chest as if to calm her rapidly beating heart.

Of all people, the last person she expected to see was Maxwell Sheffield. He looked delicious dressed in a black jacket and pants with a charcoal gray turtleneck.

Isn’t odd that even if we don’t see one another that we end up dressed similarly to each other?

"Mr. Sheffield, what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"

"Ms. Fine, – "

"It was that yenta wasn’t it? Niles is so in for it when we get home." She blew out a frustrated sigh. "I’m sorry Mr. Sheffield. I don’t know whose mouth stays open more, Niles’ or my mother’s."

His laughter crackled around them at her sarcastic comment. Regaining his composure, Maxwell smiled down at Fran.

"May I join you Ms. Fine?"

"Oh. Well, actually Mr. Sheffield, – "

"If you’d rather I not sit down, I’d understand."

Oy, he must be picking up my guilt trips.

"It’s just that – " Fran sighed then shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Never mind. Please sit down Mr. Sheffield."

When Doug gets here, this is going to go over great.

"Would you care to order something Ms. Fine?" Maxwell asked settling across from Fran.

"I’ll have the blood orange sorbet."

"Sorbet Ms. Fine? Are you sure you don’t want gelato?"

"Oh I want gelato Mr. Sheffield but with Christmas and Hanukkah coming up, I need to behave myself. I still want to fit into my clothes just in case I have plans for New Years Eve."

His body stiffened at the insinuation. "I see. One scoop or two Ms. Fine?"

"Two." At Maxwell’s raised eyebrow, Fran said, "I’m planning on being good, not be a saint."

"I’ll be back."

Fran watched a flurry of people shuffle pass the ice cream parlor, their arms loaded with presents and shopping bags. Her focus shifted when she heard Maxwell thank someone for holding the door open for him.

"Here you are Ms. Fine," he said passing the sorbet to her.

"Thank you Mr. Sheffield. You bought two blood orange sorbets?"

"I started to buy the mocha chip gelato. But then I remembered what you said about the holidays coming up, and between your mother and Niles both cooking, well…do I really need to go any further?"

Fran smiled, shaking her head. "No."

Maxwell shifted against the wrought iron chair, forcing his attention away from Fran. She tilted her head from side to side, curling her tongue around the sorbet. The gentle bobbing of her head coupled with her mews of pleasure hypnotized him and sent his mind spiraling into illicit territory.

Doesn’t she realize the affect she has on me? Watching her consume that bloody sorbet makes me want to forget I’m a gentleman. I want to draw her body into mine and utterly ravish her!

Fran opened her eyes to meet Maxwell’s intense gaze. Desire echoed within the depths of his eyes as he nibbled at the cone. His lips parted slightly, nipping a tiny piece of sorbet then smoothing the indentation with his mouth.

Doesn’t he know what he’s doing to me? I can almost feel the sharp edge of his teeth leaving bite marks across my skin. He makes me want to grab him by the collar and scream, "Take me!"

Biting the edge of her lip, an unwanted vision of Doug popped in her head.

We’ve got to get out of here before Doug shows up.

"Ms. Fine, – "

"Um, Mr. Sheffield, would you like to go for a walk?"

"Yes. That would be lovely."

Awkwardness settled between Fran and Maxwell as they strolled in silence through Central Park. A soft crisp breeze, tempered with the afternoon sun, swirled around them. Spotting a couple leaving the park, he escorted her across the grounds to the abandoned bench.

Maxwell knew he and Fran needed to talk. Too much time passed between them without clarification. He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but Maxwell wasn’t sure of how to start.

"How’s your sorbet?"

"What?"

"How’s your sorbet? Do you like it?"

Looking at the dessert then to his companion, Maxwell replied, "It’s not bad Ms. Fine but to be honest, I wish I had gotten the gelato."

"I know what you mean."

"Ms. Fine, I’d like to talk to you about the other night."

"The other night? Oh, you mean when Maggie walked into the living room."

"Yes. I – "

"It’s okay Mr. Sheffield. After I spoke with Maggie, I had some time to think about the situation and look at things from your point of view. I understand why you were so upset."

"You do?"

"Of course. Look, it’s hard enough for a kid to imagine their parents having sex but seeing a live demonstration is something entirely different."

"Ms. Fine, we weren’t having sex."

Fran huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I know we weren’t having sex Mr. Sheffield. My point is that any form of sexual expression is enough to rattle a kid."

"You’re right," Maxwell replied, a faint smile crossing his face. "Time and again, you have proven yourself correct more often than I have been. I need to put more faith in your judgments Ms. Fine."

"Mr. Sheffield, that’s very sweet of you to say. But I have to be honest. Your reaction wouldn’t have been my reaction but I do understand it."

"I know Ms. Fine. Our opposing points of view make us a formidable combination. Our unique chemistry is something I’ve come to treasure and cherish."

"So many compliments Mr. Sheffield. I don’t know what to say." Fran paused. A playful grin danced across her face. "Wait a minute. Is there alcohol in your sorbet?"

Maxwell drew back stiffly. "I assure you Ms. Fine there is no alcohol in my sorbet. I wanted to thank you. Not only for speaking with Margaret but for your words of comfort and support, for your keen observations, and for your warmth and generous demeanor."

He curled his fingers in her palm. Raising her arm, Maxwell placed a light, tender kiss on the back of her hand. He released her hand and met her gaze.

"I truly appreciate how much you have done for me and the children over the past five years. And I’m sorry I haven’t expressed it to you often enough."

"Thank you Mr. Sheffield. You don’t know how much your words mean to me."

Maxwell turned his body toward hers. Laying his arm on the back of the bench, he slid across the slats, moving closer to Fran. The late afternoon breeze whipped stray threads of her hair across her cheek. With a steady hand, he combed the wisps of hair from her face.

Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she stilled his hand with her own. She drew his hand away from her face, releasing his wrist when he cradled her jaw. Her heart began to thunder in her chest in anticipation of his kiss. Fran’s lips parted as her hand slipped over his firm toned arm up to his shoulder.

Their magnetic draw propelled them toward each other. Their eyes began to drift shut as the warmth of their breaths mingled against their mouths. He whispered her name and as he leaned in to capture her mouth with a tender kiss, a wayward soccer ball knocked Maxwell backward.

"What the – "

A small chubby boy puffed his way up to the bench. Between the wind and playing soccer, his straight blond hair was in complete disarray.

"Sorry mister."

"That’s all right." Maxwell smiled and tossed the boy’s ball back to him. "Here you go."

"Thanks!"

He watched the stout boy run back to his friends and continue playing soccer. Turning back to Fran, Maxwell saw her picking up the strewn debris knocked from his hand.

"Give that to me Ms. Fine. I’ll throw it away."

Stuffing the trash in his hand, Fran asked, "Can I borrow your cell phone Mr. Sheffield? I need to…call my mother."

"You’ll have to get it out of my pocket."

"Oh, a full body search!"

A deep blush colored his face. "Ms. Fine!"

"Oh come on," Fran replied standing to her full height, "you know you like it when I tease you."

Her fingers slid down the center of his chest, stopping at the buttons of his double-breasted jacket. Locking her eyes with his, Fran popped each button loose then pushed the jacket open. Tracing the placket of his shirt, she felt his chest contract as he expelled a slight gasp.

Maxwell swallowed hard, unable to break her gaze. All cogent thoughts flew from his mind the instant she touched him. He closed his eyes under the weight of his desire.

There were no words to describe how much he wanted her but now was not the time. Maxwell opened his eyes and stared at Fran. He had to focus and take control of himself before he acted impetuously.

"Ms. Fine," he managed to breathe out, "my cell phone is in the left breast pocket of my jacket."

She reached into his jacket and pulled out the small black phone. Standing on the tips of her toes, Fran lightly kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, I won’t be long."

Fran punched the numbers on the telephone, watching Maxwell walk toward the trash bin.

"Come on, come on," she said impatiently, "where the hell are you?" When she heard the line click, Fran whispered, "Niles, do me a favor?"

"Certainly Ms. Fine."

"When Doug calls, tell him that I’m doing something family related and I’ll talk to him later."

Before Niles could respond, Fran disconnected the line. Her smile brightened when Maxwell returned to the bench after stopping to watch the children play in the park.

"Is everything all right Ms. Fine?"

"Perfect. Ma’s really looking forward to spending the holidays with you and the kids."

"Spending the holidays together as a family is always a – "

"Pain in the tuchas?"

"A unique delight."

"Same dif."

Maxwell took the cell phone from Fran. "Are you ready to go Ms. Fine?"

"Whenever you are Mr. Sheffield."

Maxwell offered his elbow to Fran. Linking their arms together, they strolled toward the entrance of the park.

"I hope you’ve got enough money for a cab. I don’t think I have enough."

"Not to worry Ms. Fine," Maxwell replied dialing the cell phone, "I have everything taken care of."

They stood outside Ciao Bella’s making small talk when the limousine pulled up to the curb ten minutes later.

Opening the door, Maxwell said, "Since neither one of us has had the chance to go Christmas shopping, would you like to go now?"

Fran blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. What do you say? We’ll make a day of it, well, a late afternoon and evening of it. Then afterward we can have dinner out if you wish."

"That sounds wonderful Mr. Sheffield. I promise, I’ll just pop in the house and grab my credit cards."

"Don’t worry about that Ms. Fine. When I said I’ll take care of everything, I meant everything."

* * * * *

Niles opened the door to the mixed sound of Fran and Maxwell’s laughter. In both hands they carried several overstuffed shopping bags from various stores.

"Thank you old man."

"Don’t forget there’s more in the limo," Fran said dropping the bags at the base of the stairs. Maxwell set the bags next to hers and went back outside.

"Did the two of you leave anything in the stores?"

Fran giggled, clutching her friend’s arm. "Oh Niles, Mr. Sheffield and I had so much fun!"

Niles peered around the corner to see if Maxwell reentered the house.

"Not to put a damper on your evening but Mr. Abrams called. He asked me to make his apologies to you for not talking to you in person or over the phone but he had to fly out to Houston tonight to secure a business deal and will call you in a few days."

"Thanks Niles."

They turned at the sound of the front door slamming followed by rustling bags as Maxwell stepped in the foyer.

"I think I’ve gotten everything from the limo. Niles, would you help me bring the shopping bags up to my room and to Ms. Fine’s room?"

"Of course Mr. Sheffield."

After sorting and identifying which bags belonged to Fran and Maxwell, the three of them made several trips up and down the staircase until they cleared the bags from the foyer.

"Oh my god! Mr. Sheffield, look at all those bags!" Fran said as she and Maxwell entered his bedroom. "It looks like you tried to buy out Macy’s!"

"As if your room is any less congested than mine."

"It’s not!"

"This from the woman who said ‘Oh we can’t leave yet, I need one more thing’ and came back with three bags!"

"Hey, it was one more thing! They just put it in three separate bags."

"Do I need to escort you to your room to prove my point?"

"Lead the way Mr. Sheffield!"

Niles watched their playful affectionate banter with a bemused eye. Before they stepped into the corridor, he called out to Maxwell.

"Do you need me for anything else sir?"

A sheepish smile crossed Maxwell’s features. He had forgotten his butler was in the room.

"No. Thank you Niles."

An audible gasp poured from Fran’s mouth as she entered her bedroom. Pulling the shopping bags aside, she cleared a path to her dresser. The mix of paper and plastic bags emphasized the small space where she slept. Her bedroom looked as though it was on the verge of bursting at any given moment.

"Did I really buy all of this stuff?"

"Yes," Maxwell said leaning against the doorframe, "and soon I’ll have the bill to prove it."

Her eyes grew wide in concern. "This is just like my shopping addiction."

"No, its not."

He followed her path, setting shopping bags aside until he reached her. He stood in front of Fran and tipped her chin upward for her eyes to meet his.

"This is nothing like your shopping addiction whatsoever. You weren’t making purchases as a substitute for a fear of loneliness. Your kind and generous nature allowed you to make purchases for our families. That, Ms. Fine, is the difference."

Fran smiled at Maxwell. "Well don’t forget your financing helped with this shopping expedition. Thank you so much. For everything."

"You’re welcome Ms. Fine. More than welcome."

Maxwell brushed his knuckles against her cheek. His eyes drank in every aspect of her face. He watched her eyes closed and her lips part in expectation. He wanted to take possession of her mouth in a fierce kiss but his consciousness reminded him that they were standing in her bedroom with the door wide open.

At any given moment, one of the children could walk by. And even though he knew they approved of his pursuing a relationship with Fran, he didn’t want a repeat of their night in the living room.

Fran felt Maxwell’s mouth veer from her lips, instead leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek. When she opened her eyes, Fran could see a mix of desire and apprehension in his eyes. Reaching up to brush her fingers over his face, she smiled then returned his kiss with a light friendly peck on the lips.

Maxwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to leave before they started something he wouldn’t be able to finish – at least with the children so close.

"It’s getting late. I should let you get some rest Ms. Fine."

"You need your rest too."

He listened at the tone of her words, waiting for a sign of anger or hurt to register. When none came, he blinked in surprise.

"Yes. I do need my rest as well. If you want to sleep in tomorrow, I’ll explain to the children why you won’t be joining us."

"Thank you Mr. Sheffield but I’ll be fine."

He nodded then turned toward the door. Maxwell stretched his hand out and felt Fran slip her hand in his. When he reached the threshold of her door, he turned to face her.

"I had a wonderful time this evening."

"So did I. Thanks again Mr. Sheffield."

"You’re welcome Ms. Fine." Maxwell started down the hall then stopped. "Ms. Fine?"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"You said something earlier. You alluded to the two of us being the children’s parents."

Fran sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with him after the amazing evening they shared.

"I know I’m not the kids’ mother. And I’m not trying to replace her but I do love them as if they were my own. And even though I’m their nanny, technically we are their parents."

"As far as we – as far as I am concerned, we are family and you are their mother. And I defy anyone who would suggest otherwise."

"Thank you," she whispered flinging her arms around his neck. "You have no idea what that means to me to hear you say that."

When she pulled slightly out of his embrace, Maxwell could see the wet tracks spilling down her cheeks. Cradling her jaw, he brushed the tears from her face.

"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"

"More than all right," she replied with a radiant smile. "I’ll see you in the morning."

Maxwell pressed his mouth to hers in a quick tender kiss. Her breath caught, shocked by his unexpected token of affection. Slipping his arms around her waist, Maxwell pulled her body into his, deepening their kiss.

"Good night Ms. Fine," he whispered when he released her.

With a shaky hand, Fran ran her fingertips over her swollen mouth.

"Good night Mr. Sheffield."

* * * * *

For the second time within the past two weeks, Fran lay in the center of her bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind and body tingled in a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Her fingers danced across her lips, tracing the phantom impression of his mouth against her own.

She tried to suppress it but an automatic comparison of Maxwell and Doug popped in her mind. While Doug’s kiss was friendly and tender and had the potential of something more, Maxwell’s kiss was brimming in passion that infused itself in her soul.

It spoke of wanting, longing, fear, and fierceness. It spoke of true love. It was the kind of kiss that seeped into your core and radiated throughout your body.

But what did it all mean? Was their afternoon together an indication that he was finally ready to let her into his life? His behavior seemed to indicate that he wanted more but their on-again off-again relationship was a once too traveled road.

Fran closed her eyes, her rampant mind replaying the end of their evening. Overwhelmed by his declaration, she couldn’t believe that he openly admitted that he regarded her as the children’s mother.

Then there was that kiss. When they were standing in her bedroom, he changed his mind about kissing her initially. She assumed he didn’t want Niles or one of the children to discover them in a comprising position.

He caught her completely off guard when he pulled her into his arms in the hallway. It was riskier than being in her bedroom.

What changed his mind?

Fran pushed the covers from her flushed body. The sensation of his hands stroking her back while his tongue lapped against hers seemed vivid and real. She turned and looked at the clock.

Oy! I’d better get some sleep if I want to have breakfast with Mr. Sheffield and the kids. But how can I sleep when I can still feel the presence of his body against mine after saying good night just a couple of hours ago?

Fran turned over, drawing her pillow into her arms. Nuzzling its softness, she yawned as her whirlwind day finally settled upon her. Grasping the bedclothes, Fran sleepily covered her body.

"Good night Mr. Sheffield," she murmured, "I love you."

* * * * *

Maxwell stood in the mirror running a comb through his thick black locks. His hair had grown out considerably since last year, curling below the nape of his neck. He told himself that he wanted a change of style but deep down, it was for her.

He loved the sensuous way her fingers slid through his hair or tucked a stray curl in place. Maxwell set the comb on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. Subconsciously, he realized that he sought her attention and approval over the last five years.

It began innocently enough with subtle things like selecting a tie or matching something in his wardrobe. The dynamic in their relationship evolved and she began to help him resolve deeper personal issues such as trust, dependability, and love.

You were a fool once before, Maxwell thought as he finished styling his hair. Just make sure you don’t let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

Spraying Aramis on his pulse points, Maxwell switched off the bathroom light and headed back into the bedroom to dress. He slipped into a crisp white shirt then let his fingers wander through the tie rack until he found one of her favorites.

Maxwell knotted the green and gold tie then intentionally left it slightly askew. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Fran straightening his tie was a ritual he secretly enjoyed for years. Pulling the khaki colored suit from the valet, he finished dressing and checked his appearance a final time before heading downstairs.

* * * * *

"Morning dad," Maggie, Brighton, and Grace said when Maxwell entered the dining room.

"Good morning children."

"Good morning sir."

"Good morning Niles." His smiled brightened when he saw Fran. "Good morning Ms. Fine. That is a stunning outfit you’re wearing."

Fran twirled before taking her chair. She knew he appreciated how her black knit skirt and olive green sweater clung to her body.

"Good morning Mr. Sheffield," she replied reaching over to straighten his tie, "and thanks."

"Since the children are out of school," Maxwell began as Niles served breakfast, "I thought we’d do something fun before we celebrated the holidays."

"There’s an exhibit of Egyptian Art at The Met that I’d really love to see," Grace said cutting into her eggs with the edge of her fork.

"That sounds fascinating Grace. What time does The Met open?"

"Nine thirty."

"Splendid. We can leave around eleven and should be out by mid afternoon. What do you want to do after lunch?"

"May we go to Rockefeller Center?" Maggie asked.

"What a wonderful idea Margaret. I’ve always enjoyed their displays and decorations for Christmas."

"That’s not why she wants to go," Brighton said chewing on the corner of his toast. "Greg will be there."

"Who the devil is Greg?"

"Greg’s her boyfriend," Grace replied.

"What happened to Paul?"

"That’s been over for months now. Honestly Mr. Sheffield, you need to keep up."

Shaking his head at his daughter’s revolving social life, Maxwell resumed eating breakfast. The dining room was abuzz in chatter as Fran, Maggie, Grace, and Brighton discussed plans for the afternoon.

As he set the breakfast dishes on the buffet, the doorbell chimed. Checking his watch, Niles arched his eyebrow, wondering who would be calling at this hour of the morning.

"Who was at the door?" Maxwell asked absently when Niles returned.

"A courier sir. He dropped off a package for Ms. Fine."

"For me?"

"Yes Ms. Fine," Niles said setting the package on the table in front of her, "for you."

A nervous shiver ran down her spine as the family’s focus centered on her. She licked her lips and stared at the box placed in front of her. The last thing she wanted to do was open a gift from Doug in front of everyone.

"Are you trying to use your psychic powers to guess what’s in the box Fran?"

She threw an irritated glance across the table. "No Brighton. I was trying to decide whether I was going to open it now but I think I’ll open it later."

"Aren’t you curious to see what’s inside Ms. Fine?"

"I’m not that curious. Besides, we have to get ready to leave for the museum in an hour or so."

"Nonsense Ms. Fine," Maxwell replied. "How long will it take you to open a box? I’ve seen you go through less measures to open a carton of Haagen Dasz."

Fran rolled her eyes. "Aren’t you a laugh riot?"

"Fran, do you know who it’s from?" Grace asked.

"I bet I know," Niles muttered under his breath.

"Come on Fran," Maggie pleaded, "open it."

"Okay, okay. God, you’re all a bunch of yentas."

Fran ran the butter knife along the taped edges of the box. Lifting the flaps, she pushed the top open. Nestled inside the cardboard box, lay a card on top of a black velvet case.

"Oh look, there’s a card," Niles sang out.

"Thank you for stating the obvious."

Grace hopped out of her chair. "What’s the card say Fran?"

A picture of mixed flowers adorned the embossed white card. Opening the card, Fran scanned the note inside.

"Don’t keep us in suspense Ms. Fine."

Clutching the note to her chest, Fran said, "Mr. Sheffield! This could be a very personal and private note."

"Oh. I didn’t mean to intrude."

Brighton rounded the table and snatched the card out of Fran’s hand.

"Brighton!"

"Relax dad, it’s not that personal. Actually it doesn’t make any sense."

"You will give the card back to Ms. Fine and apologize to her this instant."

He looked at his father then handed the card back to Fran. "I’m sorry."

Setting the card on the table, she slipped her arms around his waist and drew Brighton into her body.

"It’s okay B."

"It most certainly is not all right," countered Maxwell. Turning to his son, he said, "You took something that belongs to Ms. Fine which is her personal property. If she wants to share it with us, she will but we must respect her privacy."

Glancing down at the note, Fran patted Brighton’s arm.

"B’s right. It’s not that personal. Honestly, the note is a little odd."

"What do you mean Fran?" Maggie asked leaning across the table.

Niles sighed irritably. "Just read the bloody note!" They all turned around and stared at him. "What? I just said what you all were thinking." With a handful of dishes, he pushed the door open with his hip and entered the kitchen.

Setting the card aside, Fran lifted the velvet case from the box and opened the hinged top.

"Oh my god. They’re beautiful."

"What is it Fran?" Maggie asked. "Let me see!"

Fran turned the opened case toward her. Nestled inside was a single strand of cultured freshwater black pearls.

"Wow," Brighton said, "that must have cost Doug a pretty penny."

Maxwell drew back in his chair, bracing his body against his son’s observation.

"What makes you think Mr. Abrams sent the necklace Brighton?"

"Get real dad. Who else would send Fran a strand of pearls? She’s not dating anyone else."

"I have to admit Fran," conceded Maggie, "it is a beautiful necklace."

"You should put it on," Grace said.

Sensing the change in Maxwell’s demeanor, Fran shook her head. "Oh no sweetie, I already opened the box. There’s no need for me to put the necklace on."

Grace nudged Fran. "At least read the note."

When Fran hesitated, Maxwell said, "Ms. Fine, you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to."

"No, it’s okay Mr. Sheffield." Fran took a sip of juice then slowly cracked open the card. "It’s a typewritten note:"

I thought I lost you but you were right in front of me all along.

She hunched her shoulders. "Like I said, it’s a little odd."

"Obviously it has some meaning to the person who wrote it."

Fran looked at Maxwell. There was something in his voice, the way he uttered those words that just didn’t sit well with her. Repacking the box, she pushed away from the table.

"Come on kids. Let’s get ready to go to the museum."

Brighton and Grace followed Fran from the dining room. Maggie waited until her brother and sister cleared the room before she spoke to her father.

"Look dad, I know you love Fran but if you don’t make a move soon, it’s going to be too late. I mean Doug is sending her gifts and love notes. How much longer can you possibly take to tell Fran how you feel?"

"Margaret, I appreciate your looking out for me, for us, but believe me when I tell you, I’ve got everything under control. Fran won’t be slipping out of my grasp. Not now, not ever."

Maggie eyed her father suspiciously. Shaking off the feeling that something beyond her comprehension was going on, she rose from the table and kissed Maxwell on the cheek.

"Don’t take too long daddy. Fran is the best thing that’s happened to you."

"You’re wrong sweetheart. You, your brother, and your sister are the best thing that happened to me. Having Fran in our lives is an extra special bonus."

* * * * *

An uncomfortable stillness swallowed the atmosphere as the limousine forged its way through the mid morning traffic. Maxwell and Fran, exchanging polite cursory words, hadn’t spoken since breakfast. Sensing the tension that engulfed the car, Grace flopped between them to force a conversation.

"I can’t wait to see this exhibit. The art works are supposed to be exceptional."

"How did you find out about this exhibit Gracie?" Maggie asked. "I can’t exactly see this being a topic of conversation for the typical fifth grader."

"I was watching a documentary about the discovery of different artifacts recovered in Egypt. At the end of the program, the narrator mentioned that many of the artworks were in exhibits around the world. One of the places listed was The Met."

"I remember that night," Maxwell said. "I was wondering why you were up so late."

"It wasn’t that late daddy. I went to bed right after it went off. Fran made sure of it."

Fran smiled down at the young girl beside her. Wrapping her arm around Grace, Fran left a light kiss on top of her head.

"Do we have to go with Gracie?" Brighton whined.

"Yes you do," replied Fran and Maxwell simultaneously. They looked at one another, a shy grin flashed across their face.

"Please continue Ms. Fine. I didn’t mean to interrupt you."

"That’s okay Mr. Sheffield."

"No Ms. Fine, I insist."

"Will one of you answer my question?"

"Brighton Millhouse Sheffield, you will not take that tone with me or your mother!"

Maxwell’s eyes widen in shock. The words spilled automatically from his mouth.

I know the children think of her as their mother. I told her so last night but I still can’t believe I said that out loud!

"I mean Ms. Fine. This is a family outing. End of discussion."

The limousine rolled to a stop, pulling smoothly to the curb in front of the museum. Stepping from the car, Maggie, Brighton, and Grace turned to watch their father help Fran from the limousine. Maxwell plucked his membership card from his wallet and handed it to Maggie.

"Margaret, take your brother and sister inside. I need to speak with Ms. Fine for a moment."

"Okay daddy."

Maggie waited until they were a safe distance away from their father. Turning to Brighton, she asked, "You did that on purpose didn’t you?"

"Would I do something like that?"

"Absolutely."

Brighton smiled. "What can I say? It’s a gift."

"That’s because you’re a perverse individual whose mission in life is to torment people," Grace said as they entered the building.

"Thank you Gracie."

* * * * *

Maxwell and Fran stood side by side, watching Maggie, Brighton, and Grace enter the museum. Slipping his arm around her waist, he guided Fran through the bustling masses to a less crowded spot down the street.

"Before we join the children, I’d like to talk to you about what I said."

"Mr. Sheffield, it was a slip of the tongue. The kids didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. As long as we don’t make a big deal about it, it’ll be okay."

"I suppose you’re right Ms. Fine. I know I told you that I regard you as the children’s mother but it wasn’t my intention to just blurt it out like that. Brighton has the exceptional ability to know what buttons to push."

"That’s our boy. He loves to push the envelope."

The smile on Maxwell’s face froze. Odd thoughts concerning his mischievous son formed in his mind.

He wouldn’t.

Snippets of Brighton’s conversations played in his head. Maxwell could see the pattern of his son’s behavior as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Not only would he, he did!

Fran laid her hand on his forearm. Shaking him gently, she watched his transfixed gaze soften.

"Mr. Sheffield? Are you all right?"

"Yes Ms. Fine," he replied patting her arm, "I’m fine. Shall we join the children?"

"Okay."

Offering her his arm, Maxwell and Fran walked back to the museum. Entering the building, they found Maggie, Brighton, and Grace standing next to the information desk.

"Which way to the exhibit Grace?"

"To the right, toward the Sackler Wing."

"Lead the way."

* * * * *

Fran’s mouth dropped in awe when she entered the hall. She had never seen large impressive works of art outside of the Sheffield home. Lured by the beauty of the artifacts; Fran clutched Maxwell’s arm, fighting the urge to run her fingers along the lines of the sculptures.

"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"

"I’m fine Mr. Sheffield. Everything here is so…I can’t even begin to describe it."

"It is a magnificent collection, isn’t it? The artworks from the different dynasties are unbelievable. And the fact that they survived centuries later to be displayed here before us is a testament to man’s willingness to preserve history."

Arm in arm, they kept an eye on Maggie, Brighton, and Grace, and continued their stroll around the museum. Stopping at each display, Maxwell would impart what knowledge he had of Egyptian art to a fascinated and spellbound Fran.

"What an odd piece," Fran said stopping at an acrylic case.

"Not too close Ms. Fine," Maxwell warned, "I wouldn’t want to see you in handcuffs."

With a wink, she ran her finger under his chin. "Are you sure Mr. Sheffield?"

"Ms. Fine," he softly chided as a boyish grin spread across his face.

"Sorry Mr. Sheffield. I can’t resist teasing you. According to the little tag there, this piece is entitled Fragmentary Head of a Queen."

A faint blush tinged his face at her suggestive comment. Forcing the image of her being handcuffed from his mind, Maxwell cleared his throat and relayed what history he knew regarding the period in which the piece was created.

"It’s either Akhenaten’s principal queen, Nefertiti or his secondary queen, Kiya. Actually, the rule of Akhenaten is fascinating. Akhenaten was one of the most profound pharaohs to rule Egypt.

Akhenaten’s parents were Amenhotep III and Queen Tiye. His wife was Nefertiti was thought to be a distant relative to Akhenaten. They had six daughters: Ankhesenpaaten, Neferneferuaten-tasharit, Neferneferure, Meketaten, Merytaten, and Sotepenre. During his reign, he earned the title The Heretic Pharaoh."

"Why was he called The Heretic Pharaoh?"

"Not only did he move the capital from Thebes downriver to Amarna but Akhenaten replaced the previous Egyptian gods with a single god, the disc of the sun, the Aten, which incurred the wrath of the very powerful priesthood."

"Oh, so Akhenaten was a rebel."

"Quite. Even his ideas in art and religion were unique and revolutionary and left a lasting impression on the world."

"Really?"

"Yes. Pharaohs of the past were usually portrayed standing in the hunting chariot, bow-and-arrow in hand. However, Akhenaten portrayed himself less god like and more human and is often painted or sculpted seated with his wife Nefertiti and their daughters. It was unheard of for a pharaoh to be portrayed with their families."

Folding her arms, Fran leaned forward and read the tiny plaque beside the display case.

"Why did Akhenaten have more than one wife?"

"That wasn’t an uncommon practice for a ruler Ms. Fine. Pharaohs had multiple wives to ensure they would have an heir to succeed them."

"No wonder men have trouble staying faithful to one woman."

"Not all men are like that Ms. Fine. Surely you know that."

"The ones that aren’t like that are few and far between, like trying to find a needle in a haystack."

"Sometimes, Ms. Fine, when you’re searching in the preverbal haystack, you get lucky."

Fran bit back her flippant response. She studied the man standing beside her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was something in the way he spoke that peaked her curiosity.

Is he flirting with me?

Brushing the idea from her mind, Fran resumed their current topic of conversation.

"What happened to Nefertiti Mr. Sheffield?"

"About twelve years into the Amarna Period, Nefertiti was no longer favored by Akhenaten and vanished. There are no records regarding how she disappeared. They never found her body. It’s been speculated that her mummy may have been brought to The Valley of the Kings and buried in a tomb that was created to hide her remains."

"What happened to his other wife?"

"Like Nefertiti, Kiya suddenly disappeared from the history books. There’s been wide speculation regarding her fate but the most popular theories are that she fell out of favor with the royal regime, she died in childbirth, or Nefertiti ordered Kiya’s murder out of jealousy. There are some academics that believe that Kiya was also King Tutankhamen’s mother, which may explain why she held a favored status and titles."

Fran nudged his shoulder playfully. "Wow Mr. Sheffield, you really know a lot about Egyptian history – at least about Akhenaten."

"I was naturally drawn to his reign since Akhenaten had a great artistic influence over Egyptian culture."

"This is better than any soap opera!"

"And much more compelling. Ready to see the next exhibit Ms. Fine?"

Fran nodded then fell silent as they moved on to the next display. With all the knowledge and history surrounding her, she suddenly felt less than and oddly out of place.

Everything’s so clear now. He may want me. Some part of him may even love me but we have no future together. He needs some one he can talk to about all the things he loves and appreciates. It’s time for me to give up this fairy tale and face reality.

Sensing a shift in her demeanor, Maxwell stopped walking and turned to face Fran. His eyes flickered over her face. The sadness in her eyes sent a shiver of fear through his body.

"Ms. Fine? What’s wrong?"

"I’m fine Mr. Sheffield."

"No you’re not."

He stared into her eyes, searching her soul for the cause of her sudden melancholy. Raising his hand to her face, Maxwell stepped closer to Fran and stroked her cheek.

"Please tell me what’s wrong."

The world around Fran stopped. The hypnotic green gaze of Maxwell’s eyes trapped her. She wanted to explain everything to him but the words stalled in her throat.

"It’s nothing Mr. Sheffield." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Don’t worry about it."

"I worry about you Ms. Fine. I don’t like seeing you unhappy."

Her mind whirled in a mixture of sadness, fear, and panic. Fran was desperate to find a safe answer that would satisfy him but not reveal all that she felt.

"It’s silly really."

"Then you won’t mind telling me. Whatever is bothering you, I’ll do my best to help."

Sighing in resignation, Fran replied, "It’s just that being here and listening to you, I feel…so inadequate."

"Inadequate? How?"

"Because I’m not as smart or well educated as you are. Or even the kids."

"Let me ask you something. Do you find our family outings boring?"

"At times they can be a little drawn out but nevertheless, I still find them interesting. I almost feel like – "

"Like what Ms. Fine?"

"No. I can’t. It’s stupid. Can we forget about this and move on?"

"No. I don’t want to forget it. I want to know what you’re thinking. Please tell me."

"This is so lame but it almost feels like I’m getting a private education. Like being let in on something exclusive. I know that doesn’t make sense to you."

Fran began to walk away but Maxwell grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving.

"It makes perfect sense. I’ll let you in on a little secret. You are."

"What?"

"I don’t mean this to sound condescending in anyway but I’ve enjoyed watching you during our family outings. It’s a privilege to see your universe expand and I’d like to think that I’m helping your world to open up a bit. You are an intelligent woman Fran Fine. I just wish you were as confident in your intellect as I am."

"That’s me. Fran Fine, Rhodes Scholar."

"Education doesn’t always equate to intelligence Ms. Fine."

"You’re just saying that to be nice Mr. Sheffield."

"When it comes to people in my life and things that concern them, I would never say anything superficial."

"I know you wouldn’t Mr. Sheffield. You’re such a sweet and generous person."

"As are you. And I have another secret to impart to you. Just as I have influenced you and expanded your world, you have taught me many things over the last five years as well."

Fran scoffed. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yeah right. I can see how knowing me has changed your life."

"Can’t you see that knowing you has changed my life?"

Maxwell pulled her toward him, curling his fingers around the upper part of her arms. His words carried a husky timbre as he continued his explanation.

"You’ve taught me not to take life so seriously all the time. You’ve taught me that not only is it okay for me to fall and make mistakes but you’ve shown me how to pick myself up again. You’ve taught me how to appreciate the ordinary things I take for granted. And most importantly, you’ve taught me to cherish the people in my life."

Fran looked at him, her eyes wide in surprise. A light smile danced across her face. The sincerity of his words captivated and intrigued her.

"I taught you that?"

"You taught me that and so much more. I will be forever in your debt Ms. Fine."

Before she could reply, the sound of a discreet cough broke beside them. Releasing her from his grasp, Maxwell turned and came face to face with a museum tour guide.

"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude but I’m in the middle of conducting a tour and I really need you to move along through the exhibit."

"Of course," Maxwell replied. "We didn’t mean to delay you."

Slipping his arm around her waist, he escorted Fran through the rest of the exhibit. Near the exit, they caught up with Maggie, Brighton, and Grace.

"Where did you three go?" Maxwell asked. "One minute you were in the same room and then you disappeared."

"Daddy, we didn’t disappear," Maggie replied. "We saw the two of you having an…intense discussion so we decided to continue touring the exhibit."

Brighton cocked his head to the side. "What were you two talking about anyway?"

"Mind your own business B."

"Well since you take care of us, doesn’t that make you our business?"

He watched the expression on his father’s face transform from concern to restrained irritation. Holding up his arms in resignation, a mischievous grin crossed Brighton’s face.

"So, where are we going for lunch?"

Arching his eyebrow, Maxwell stared at his son. "I made reservations for us at The Tavern on the Green." Glancing down at his watch, he said, "We’d better hurry if we’re going to make it on time."

"Are we still going to Rockefeller Center after lunch daddy?" Maggie asked as they exited the museum.

Brighton rolled his eyes. "She just wants to play kissy face with Greg."

"At least I have an actual person to kiss," Maggie replied. "All you have is your arm."

"Children, that’s quite enough. Margaret, I’ll decide after lunch whether we’re still going to Rockefeller Center."

* * * * *

Niles entered the living room at the same time Maxwell opened the door. The family stepped into the house, fatigue written across their faces. Hanging their coats in the closet, Fran, Brighton, Grace, and Maggie filed wearily up the staircase.

"Good evening Mr. Sheffield."

"Good evening Niles," Maxwell replied sorting through the mail. "Were there any messages while we were out?"

"Ms. Babcock phoned to say that she’s feeling better. When she threatened to come over and speak with you in person, I informed her that Animal Control will be notified if she roams the city freely without her leash."

Maxwell’s mouth formed a slight smirk. "I’ll phone CC from my office. Anything else?"

"No sir, that was all. Dinner will be ready in a few of hours."

"Thank you Niles."

* * * * *

Maxwell set the phone on the edge of his desk and pulled the silver wire frames from his face. Raking his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

After twenty minutes of ranting about Niles’ behavior, CC finally told him she was going to Aruba on vacation to recover from her illness since Sheffield/Babcock Productions was on hiatus for the holiday. Maxwell told her they’d pick up negotiations with Justin Graham next year. He bid her a safe trip then hung up the phone.

His mind wandered back to his afternoon with Fran. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge with her and was impressed on how her quick inquisitive mind absorbed information.

Maxwell’s smile faltered when he remembered how quiet and withdrawn she became. He sensed that her confession was a halfhearted attempt to pacify him. Something was amiss with her sudden shift in personality and he was certain that his reluctance to advance their relationship was at the center of it.

I know you think that I don’t want to be with you Fran but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Please have a little patience sweetheart. I promise I will make it up to you.

A soft tapping shook him from his silent vow. Opening his eyes, Maxwell focused on the figure standing in the threshold of his office.

"Are you all right sir?"

"I’m fine Niles. Is dinner ready?"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield. The family is in the dining room waiting on you. Will you be joining them or dining in your office tonight?"

"No, I’ll be there in a minute."

He watched Niles’ retreating frame then sank back into the chair. Maxwell closed his eyes as his thoughts revisited his time with Fran.

The world stilled around them when he wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her into his body. The only thought passing through his mind was taking her fully in his arms and pushing his mouth onto hers.

Another light tapping on the door shook him from his fantasy. This time when he opened his eyes, Maxwell found the object of his desire.

"Are you coming to dinner Mr. Sheffield?"

He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to push images of kissing Fran from his brain. Rising from the chair, Maxwell rounded the desk and stood in front of her.

Stretching out his hand, he smiled and replied, "Lead the way Ms. Fine."

* * * * *

Brighton lay in the center of the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles. With closed eyes, his head bobbed to the pulsing rhythm of Pearl Jam’s Jeremy flowing through the headphones.

His eyes snapped open when the song abruptly ended. He looked up to see Maxwell standing at the side of the bed with the CD player in one hand and the headphone cord in the other. Brighton sat up and pulled the headphones from his ears.

"You need something dad?"

"Yes. An explanation."

"Okay. What do you want me to explain?"

Maxwell looked at his son and sighed. It wasn’t Brighton’s fault. The fault lies with me. I’m the one who blurted it out.

"You’re mad aren’t you?"

"I’m not angry Brighton. I’m a little upset."

"I’m sorry I upset you dad."

"You have no reason to apologize son."

"Well I did kind of goad you into saying it. I just don’t want you to lose Fran."

Maxwell sat on the side of Brighton’s bed. He slipped the glasses from his face and tucked them into his vest pocket.

"What are you talking about Brighton?"

"Aren’t you upset about what happened in the limo?"

"How did you know that’s what I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Hello? Dad, I’ve known you all my life. I’m sorry I made you snap and call Fran our mother. I know you’re upset with me. I just wanted you to make a move before Doug takes Fran away."

Maxwell smiled and patted Brighton on the leg. "First of all son, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself at losing my temper and blurting that out. Second, you and Margaret have either been talking or sharing the same thoughts about Fran so I will tell you the same thing I told her. I appreciate your concern but it’s completely unfounded. I have everything under control."

Brighton returned his father’s smile. "Really?"

"Really. Trust me Brighton, Fran will be with us forever."

He rose from the bed and walked toward the door. Twisting the doorknob, Maxwell stopped just before he pulled the door open.

"Brighton?"

"Yeah dad?"

"You pull another stunt like you did today in the limo again and you’re grounded. Do you understand?"

"Yes dad."

Maxwell checked his watch. "It’s almost time for bed. Good night Brighton."

* * * * *

Fran popped a piece of Godiva in her mouth as she thumbed through the December issue of Cosmo. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure, letting the rich chocolate melt on her tongue.

Just as she started reading the Bedside Astrologer, the doorbell rang. Brushing the remnants of the candy from her fingers, she laid the magazine face down and headed for the door.

"I’ll get it!"

When she opened the door, Doug stepped inside. With a wide grin, he lifted her by the waist and twirled Fran in his arms.

"Fran! I’ve missed you!"

"Doug! When did you get back?"

"I got in late last night." He set her down then stepped back to look at her. Shaking his head, Doug smiled. "You look absolutely fabulous. What are you doing now?"

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now."

Before she could respond, Maxwell entered the living room absently flipping through the pages of his notepad. Pushing the wire frames off the end of his nose, he spoke unaware that he and Fran weren’t alone.

"Who was at the door Ms. Fine?" He looked up to see Doug standing beside Fran. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company."

His eyes traveled to where Doug’s arm lingered at her waist. He pinched the inside of his jaw to suppress his smile when Fran slipped out of his embrace to introduce them.

"Mr. Sheffield, this is my friend Doug Abrams. Doug, this is my boss Maxwell Sheffield."

"How do you do Mr. Abrams?" Maxwell said extending his hand.

Meeting his hand in a firm shake, Doug replied, "I’m well thank you. Please, call me Doug."

"Only if you return the courtesy and call me Maxwell."

"Maxwell, I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to borrow Fran for a few hours. I’ve been out of town on business and I want to catch up."

Fran stepped toward Maxwell. Laying her hand gently on his arm, she held his eyes when she spoke to him.

"You don’t mind do you Mr. Sheffield? I’ll only be gone for a few hours."

A light smile crossed Maxwell’s face. Patting her arm, it took all his resolve not to lean over and kiss her cheek.

"Go right ahead Ms. Fine. I’m sure you and Doug have a lot to catch up on. I’ll see you this evening."

"Thanks Mr. Sheffield."

"It was a pleasure to meet you Doug."

"Likewise Maxwell."

Tapping the edge of the notepad, Maxwell headed for the stairs. When he reached the top, he cast a final glance at the couple below then continued to his room.

* * * * *

"So where did you want to go?" Fran asked as they stepped out into the brisk December afternoon.

"I don’t know. Let’s walk for a while. See if anything grabs us."

"I hope nothing grabs us."

Doug gave Fran a crooked smile. "Nothing or no one?"

"Both actually."

"I’m sure for the right person, you wouldn’t mind if he grabbed you."

With a quick wink she replied, "I wouldn’t complain!"

"Come on," Doug chuckled. Slipping his arm around her waist, he drew her body into his. "I’ll take you to lunch."

* * * * *

The delicatessen was unusually crowded for two thirty in the afternoon. Easing her way through the late lunch crowd, Fran found a table near the back of the restaurant while Doug placed their lunch order.

Her eyes panned the eatery; the room overflowed with the uneven buzz of multiple conversations. Fran’s attention shifted, watching Doug carry their tray above his head. When he finally reached her, he gingerly set their lunch on the table.

"I guess I should have realized that this place would be crowded."

"Normally the crowd would have thinned out by now."

"A lot of late lunches I suppose." Setting her lunch in front of her, Doug said, "I can’t believe I couldn’t tempt you with more than potato pancakes."

"What could be better for a late lunch than latkes, sour cream and apple sauce?"

"A nice plate of chicken parmigiana?" Twirling his fork in the spaghetti, Doug asked, "So did you miss me?"

"Of course I missed you. When we came home, Niles told me you called."

"We?"

"Yeah. Mr. Sheffield took me to the mall since neither one of us had done any Christmas shopping." Fran popped a slice of pancake into her mouth. "That is so good. Even without the sour cream."

"And with?"

"Well of course it’s better with it. But eating it plain is the sign of a really good latke."

"So, what else have you done while I was away?"

Cutting another slice, Fran smeared a dollop of sour cream on the pancake and took another bite.

"Gracie wanted to go to The Met because they had this Egyptian art exhibit. Some of the pieces in there were just amazing! Mr. Sheffield told me about the pharaohs and their wives and the different dynasties in Egyptian history.

We were discussing the different art pieces and the impact of Egyptian rulers on the world. Usually I’m bored with these outings but he made everything so fascinating! Mr. Sheffield knows quite a bit of Egypt's history.

Then we went to The Tavern on the Green for lunch. Of course, I heard about it before but who hasn’t? I mean people outside of New York know about the infamous restaurant. And lunch? Lunch was just fabulous! I don’t know what I enjoyed more, the crab cakes or the chocolate mousse cake. After lunch, we went to Rockefeller Center.

The Christmas decorations are just gorgeous. Of course, Maggie went because she was meeting her boyfriend Greg which didn’t sit well with Mr. Sheffield. But once I got him to calm down, everything was okay."

Fran lowered her eyes, a slight blush creeping across her face. When she looked up, she met Doug’s curious gaze.

"I’m sorry. I have a tendency to ramble sometimes."

"No, I enjoy hearing about your day."

"So tell me all about your trip."

Setting set the fork on the edge of his plate Doug took a quick swig of black cherry soda before answering her.

"I was surprised when the head of distribution called and asked me to fly out to Houston for a meeting. This is such a huge opportunity for Eric and me. We’ve been working on this software program for years and to finally have an opportunity to market and distribute it – I had to jump at the chance."

"So are they going to buy your program?"

"Eric and I will probably have to fly back in about a week or so to finalize the details but yes, they are going to buy our program."

"Oh Doug that’s wonderful news! Pretty soon you're going to be rolling in money."

"That’ll be great but what would be even better is to have someone to share it with." His eyes dropped briefly then rose back to her. "Fran, have you thought about us?"

Fran rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Doug, – "

"Honestly Fran, I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s just that I look at you and I think about us and I know we’d be good together."

"There’s a lot you don’t understand. A lot you don’t know about me and Mr. Sheffield."

"Fran, how can you build a relationship when you don’t even call each other by your first names?"

"I told you it was complicated."

"Love should never be complicated."

"Ha! What world are you living in?"

"Granted that was a stupid thing to say," Doug said reaching for her hand. "What I mean is love shouldn’t be so convoluted that you travel the journey alone."

Fran pulled her hand away from his and stared at him with wide transfixed eyes.

"Are you saying you’re in love with me?"

"Well, maybe not in love with but I do care for you a great deal. And if our relationship is allowed to flourish, I’m sure it will lead to love." When she hesitated, Doug continued. "We’re already great friends. Let’s build upon that. We could have a wonderful life together if you’re heart is willing to accept it."

"Doug, you don’t know what you’re asking me."

"The only thing I’m asking you to do is not close yourself off from everyone while you’re pining away for a man that’s too reticent to admit how he feels about you."

"You don’t understand anything about Mr. Sheffield or his situation. First, he is my boss and we do have a professional relationship. He’s a very honorable man with certain codes and ethics. He would never do anything that he felt was wrong or unprofessional.

Second, it wasn’t easy for him after his wife died. He buried himself completely in work and pulled away from his kids. He hired a string of nannies that couldn’t or wouldn’t connect with the kids – at least until I came along.

The family has changed since I’ve known them. The kids aren’t as withdrawn as when I first started working there and he’s become more open with his feelings. He’s not the same man that I first met five years ago, and I like to think that because of my friendship, devotion, and – "

"Love?"

Fran paused. She hated when people put words in her mouth, even if the words were accurate. Leaning back in her chair, she folded her hands on the table.

"Yes. Because of my friendship, devotion, and love, he’s become the caring, nurturing, and loving father that he once was."

"That maybe true and he maybe grateful to you for returning his family to him but that still doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t love you the way that you deserve."

The weight of his words fell solidly between them. Pushing away from the table, Fran rose from the chair and slipped into her coat.

"What do I owe you for lunch?"

"You don’t owe me anything for lunch."

Doug stood and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. He watched her walk silently pass him then followed her out of the restaurant. They stood outside, bracing themselves against the windy afternoon.

"I’ll walk you home."

"If it’s okay with you Doug, I’d rather walk by myself."

"Fran, I’m not going to let you walk home by yourself. I don’t care how angry you are with me."

"Suit yourself."

They walked side by side as if they were two strangers that happened to be heading in the same direction. When they reached the mansion, Doug took the keys from her and opened the door.

"Thank you for lunch."

"You’re welcome. I’m sorry Fran. I didn’t mean to upset or anger you. That’s the last thing I want to do. You’re my friend and I care a great deal about you. I don’t want to lose our friendship."

"I don’t want to lose our friendship either," Fran replied, "but you crossed a line earlier."

Doug reached out and traced small circles on her cheek. "You’re right. There are a lot of things about your relationship with Maxwell that I don’t know or understand." He handed the keys back to her. "I’d better get going. I’m sure mother hen is worried about where I am."

Fran was about to ask what he meant then suddenly she realized to whom Doug was referring. A smile appeared on her face for the first time since they had lunch.

"That’s what big brothers are for."

"That and to be complete pains in the tuchas."

Her laughter was infectious. Doug was unable to contain his own amusement. Their shared merriment began to ebb and once again, silence resided between them.

"Are we okay?" he asked staring into her eyes. "I mean are we really okay?"

Fran nodded. "We’re just fine. Thanks again for lunch."

"You’re more than welcome. I’ll talk to you later after Eric settles down."

"Okay."

Accepting a light kiss on her cheek, Fran watched Doug wander down the street until he disappeared from her sight.

* * * * *

Maxwell tried not to be obvious as he watched Fran finish the last of her Belgian waffle. When she licked the syrup from her lips, the forbidden image of him licking the sticky liquid from her skin popped into his mind.

Curling his fingers in his palm, Maxwell clenched his fist until the thought of tasting her vanished. Folding the newspaper in half, he dropped it next to the empty plate and rose from the chair.

"I have some errands to run so I will see you all later."

"Bye daddy," Grace and Maggie replied.

Finishing his toast, Brighton mumbled, "Bye dad."

"Brighton," Fran said stirring cream into her coffee, "don’t talk with your mouth full. See you later Mr. Sheffield."

Niles waited until he heard the front door close before reentering the dining room. He said a silent thank you, grateful that Maggie, Brighton, and Grace had gone about their day and left Fran alone. Starting where Maxwell sat, he gathered the breakfast dishes, stopping when he reached Fran.

"Ms. Fine, a courier stopped by during breakfast and dropped off a box for you. I took the liberty of taking the box and placing it in your room."

"Thanks Niles."

Finishing the last of her coffee, Fran dropped her napkin on the table and left the dining room. When she entered her bedroom, she saw a huge box wrapped in reddish orange paper sitting in the middle of her bed with a card beneath the ribbon.

Fran slid the envelope from underneath the bow and tossed it on the bed. Pulling the ribbon from the package, she peeled the paper from the box. Nestled inside the package laid a wicker basket filled with perfume, lotion, shower gel, and a mesh body sponge.

She broke open the cellophane wrapping. Fran examined each bottle, noting the three clear labels placed on the front of each item.

I knew there was something I forgot to do! I forgot to thank Doug yesterday for the wonderful gifts he’s sent me.

Pulling the top off the perfume, Fran misted the air and sniffed the exotic cologne. A wide smile crossed her face as she plucked the note from the crisp brown envelope. Her eyebrow arched in curiosity.

What an odd way to address a note.

Nefertiti,

The thought of your absence leaves me lost in a desert of doubt. My queen of Queens, I cannot bear another day without you at my side. Accept this gift as a token of my gratitude and unending devotion.

Akhenaton

Fran chuckled, shaking her head in amusement.

Doug remembered me talking endlessly about our trip to The Met. That’s so sweet of him to send me a gift. I only told him about our trip to the museum the other day.

Her laughter froze as the realization of her thoughts settled over her.

Wait a minute. I told him about the trip but I never mentioned anything specific.

She went to her closet and dug out her purse from the other day. "Where is that damn thing?"

Fran flipped frantically through the brochure until she found what she was looking for. Her mind reeled as Maxwell’s voice rang clear in her mind.

It can’t be!

Opening her nightstand, she pulled out the other notes she received and reread them with a new clarity.

Resume wasn’t misspelled; it was intentionally spelled that way because I gave him my résumé in lipstick.

She opened the second envelope and scanned the message written on the card.

Black pearls? That’s right! I lost Elizabeth Taylor's black pearl necklace in the back of that taxi. Why is Mr. Sheffield sending me anonymous gifts and notes? What the hell is he up to?

When she picked up the third note, Fran noticed an arrow in the lower right hand corner. Turning the card over, she found another note written across the back.

Meet me on the Staten Island Ferry at 3pm.

Could it be? Is this his way of telling me that he’s ready for a relationship?

Fran plopped on the bed, her mind reeling at the meaning behind the presents he sent.

I can’t believe this is happening. That sweet, adorable, slightly repressed man wants to be with me!

She turned her head to look at the clock on her nightstand.

He wants me to meet him at three? What am I going to wear?

Fran slid off the bed and made her way over to the closet. Her fingers skimmed through her racks of clothes, with no semblance of an idea jumping out at her. She sighed and leaned against the frame.

I’ve got nothing to wear! Everything in this damn closet screams ‘come take me!’ Although it’s been five years and I’m so ready for that to happen but that’s not the look I want today.

She went through her closet again, this time more thorough than before. Sliding the hangers across the metal pole, Fran pulled out a burgundy turtleneck sweater and hung it on the door. She continued searching through her clothes until she found her black and white wool houndstooth skirt.

Pulling the sweater from the top of the door, Fran walked over to the mirror and held the outfit up to her body.

"Not bad," she said smiling at her reflection.

Fran finished laying out the rest of her clothes then took a long leisurely bath before she started getting ready to meet Maxwell. As she watched her reflection apply foundation, an unsettling thought crossed her mind.

What if I’m reading too much into this? Suppose he’s just sending me small tokens of his appreciation for taking care of the kids?

No, that’s just silly! He would be open about it if he were just showing his gratitude. But if I’m right and he is taking steps toward a future with the two of us together, then why send the gifts anonymously?

Her jovial mood altered, melding slowly into anger. The longer she thought about the situation, the angrier she became.

He probably thinks that he’s just being a kind employer. That I shouldn’t read too much into what he’s done because it’s just a gesture of friendship.

Fran stared at her partially made up face; a tsunami of anger engulfed her.

Every since Paris, he’s played this silly game. He loves me then takes it back. He wants me then rebuffs me. And at every turn I’ve forgiven him because I felt that in time, he’d come to terms with his feelings for me.

Before she could stop them, tears formed in her eyes, their wet tracks streaking across her face. Instead of giving into her misery, Fran channeled her sadness into anger.

I am not going to shed another tear over that man. I’ve spent the last year and a half doing just that!

Plucking several tissues from the box on her vanity, she wiped her tear stained face with a dark determination. Tightening her robe, Fran left her room and headed downstairs.

* * * * *

When Niles wandered into the living room, he was surprised to see Fran curled up on the loveseat nursing a snifter of brandy. He rarely saw her drink anything alcoholic. It took a moment for his mind to process the scene before him.

"How long have you known Niles?"

"Known what Ms. Fine?"

"How long have you known about the gifts? About him toying with me emotionally?"

"Are you drunk?"

Fran scoffed. "Hardly." She looked up to meet the concerned eyes of her best friend. "Honestly Niles, I’m not drunk. I’ve barely touched this drink. But you did know didn’t you?"

Niles sighed then sat on the edge of the coffee table.

"I found out after you received the first gift."

"How?"

"I realized that resume was intentionally spelled résumé. When I put that together with lipstick, I remembered that’s how you presented your references to Mr. Sheffield."

"Why didn’t you say anything?"

"He swore me to secrecy. When he threatened to fire me, it wasn’t like the other times. I knew he was serious."

"Why did he feel the need to play this game with me Niles? Why couldn’t he just tell me straight out how he felt?"

"I honestly don’t know. Are you going to confront him?"

"He wants me to meet him at three o’clock on the Staten Island Ferry. I have a good mind not to go."

"Please reconsider Ms. Fine. He seems to be ready to make a commitment. At least hear what he has to say."

Fran set the snifter on the table and rose from the love seat. His eyes trailed her movements as she made her way toward the stairs.

"Ms. Fine?" She paused halfway up the stairs and looked at Niles. "Do you forgive me for not telling you before?"

"Of course Niles. You’re my friend and I’ll always love you."

"Surely you know Mr. Sheffield loves you too. He’s just taken an unique way of expressing it."

"I’ll say."

"Look at things from his point of view. He chose to give you items that have a significant meaning to the two of you."

"But what does it mean?"

"That he’s ready to spend his life with you." Fran shrugged her shoulders. "What does your heart say?"

"My heart is just as confused as my head. I just don’t know what to think anymore."

"You need to settle things between you and Mr. Sheffield. To clear the air so you both know that you’re going in the same direction."

"And what direction is that Niles?"

"Forward, I believe Ms. Fine."

A sad smile crossed her face. Looking down at Niles, she simply asked, "Is it?" then continued upstairs.

* * * * *

It was easy for Fran to hide from Maxwell. Much easier than she thought. With literally thousands of people riding the ferry, blending into the masses was not a problem.

Fran watched Maxwell thread his way through the crowd, protecting a bouquet of blush roses. She knew he was searching the throngs of people for any sign of her. Ordinarily she would have jumped at the chance to be in his arms but this time she wasn’t quite ready to do that.

Maxwell checked his watch again. Sinking against the rail, the gnawing nagging feeling of Fran being out of reach wouldn’t leave him.

Suppose she called Mr. Abrams and they’re out celebrating? He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. No. He would never do that. He is an honorable man.

Several quick taps on the shoulder interrupted his musings. Maxwell threw a quick glance over his shoulder then turned around fully when his mind registered who was behind him. He pulled her into his arms and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

"I didn’t think you made it. I was starting to get worried."

Fran arched her eyebrow. "Were you Mr. Sheffield?"

"Of course I was Ms. Fine." Maxwell glanced down at the flowers in his hand. "Where are my manners?" Presenting her with the bouquet, he said, "These are for you."

Fran hesitated then reluctantly took the flowers. As she held the bouquet in her arms, tears began to form in her eyes.

Maxwell pulled her toward him and cradled her in his arms. He cooed softly in her ear, ecstatic to comfort her under the deluge of what he thought were overwhelming emotions. As he tightened his embrace, Maxwell felt Fran break free of his arms.

Damn it, that’s the last thing I wanted to do, she thought wiping tears from her eyes.

"Why?"

The question was so soft that he barely heard what she uttered.

"I’m sorry? What did you say Ms. Fine?"

She looked at him, her eyes swollen and puffy.

"I asked why. Why couldn’t you be straightforward and tell me how you felt? Why did you feel it was necessary to play these stupid games in our relationship? What exactly is our relationship Mr. Sheffield? Boss-nanny? Friends? Or were you hoping that sending me these notes and gifts there’d be something more?"

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Maxwell opened his mouth to reply but Fran cut him off.

"What is with you? Is this your idea of romance? You tell me you love me because you thought we were dying only to take it back when we reached safety. You insisted that we be nothing but friends and yet when I tried to move on with my life, you found a way to sabotage my dates with your possessive behavior."

Maxwell knew he hurt her by retracting his feelings but Fran’s accusations threw him off. Before he could stop it, the wrong words fell from his mouth.

"I didn’t need to ruin your dates! All of your relationships ended disastrously anyway!"

"And just what is that suppose to mean?"

"You went looking for something, for someone unnecessarily. All you had to do was open your eyes. It was right in front of you all along!"

"And how was I to know that Mr. Sheffield? You never said anything and every time I went out, you were consumed with jealousy! It’s a wonder I was able to have any kind of relationship at all!"

"And every time you went on those dates, and they failed miserably, who was always there to comfort you? Who was always there to provide a shoulder for you to cry on, to listen to your problems? Me! You always turned to me!"

"So I was supposed to sit idly by and wait until you were ready for a relationship? Let me tell you something Maxwell Sheffield, you may want to stick your head in the sand and ignore what your heart is telling you but I can’t live that way. I’m willing to put my heart at risk. I’ve never been secretive about what I want."

Maxwell folded his arms across his chest. "And pray tell, what is that Ms. Fine? What do you want?"

Fran took a step toward him. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him for a moment then spoke to him in measured tones.

"I want what everyone wants: a commitment. Someone to share my life. Someone who is willing to love me openly, honestly, and fully. Someone who can admit when they’re wrong and isn’t smug about being right.

Someone to support me, to encourage me, and is willing to defend me. Someone I can depend on and trust. Someone who is willing to be my husband, my lover, and my friend. And if I have to continue looking until I find it, then so be it."

Seeing the hurt and anger reflected in her eyes softened Maxwell’s demeanor. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull Fran in his arms and reassure her that he was willing to be all of that to her and more but he wasn’t sure of her reaction.

Fran looked around and realized that not only had the attention of the ferry passengers centered on her and Maxwell but the ferry itself had docked.

He absently took the roses she pushed back into his arms. Glancing down at the flowers, his mind reeled at the possibility that he may have blown his chance with her forever.

She turned away from him then stopped. Bracing herself against the glare of the crowd, her eyes flickered over him one last time.

"I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you Mr. Sheffield?"

* * * * *

Fran laid across the bed, listening to the muffled sounds of the basketball game playing in her parents’ bedroom. She reached out and pulled another Mall-o-mar from the box that lay at her side.

She could still see the stunned hurtful look in Maxwell’s eyes when they last saw each other. A shudder of angst flowed through her. Fran was still in awe of the explosive feelings of anger she suppressed for the past year and a half.

If he had any feelings for me now, I’m sure I shot them straight to hell after that scene on the ferry.

Fran looked up to see her mother pushing her bedroom door open.

"Darling, I have a surprise for you. Someone’s waiting to see you."

"Ma, I don’t feel like company. Tell Val I’ll call her later."

"Who said anything about Val?" Stepping aside, Doug moved into the doorway. "I’ll just leave you two alone."

"Thank you Mrs. Fine."

"I told you before, call me Sylvia."

Doug waited until Sylvia closed the door. He turned to Fran bearing a wide yet slightly nervous grin.

"I’ll bet I’m the last person you thought you’d see."

"Actually Mr. Sheffield is the last person I’d expect to see."

"I was surprised when his butler told me that you hadn’t been home in the past few days. What happened between you two Fran?"

"If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it."

"Ah but I do. That’s part of the reason why I’m here."

"I don’t understand."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Doug looked at Fran. He already knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation but he had to tell her his thoughts.

Fran swung her legs over the edge of the bed and moved the box of cookies to the nightstand. She patted the empty space next to her on the mattress.

"Come sit and talk to me." When he settled beside her, Fran asked, "Okay, what’s going on in that head of yours? What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I wanted to talk to you about – " He paused, gathering his thoughts together. "I wanted to talk to you about the three of us."

"Three? What three? There’s a three?"

"Yes. Me, you, and Maxwell."

"Doug, – "

"Hear me out, okay Fran?"

She nodded then scooted backward until her back was flushed with the headboard. Grabbing one of her pillows, Fran leaned forward and waited for Doug to begin.

"Fran, you’re my friend. You always have been and you always will be but there was always something between us that kept us from being together. Before, the software program that Eric and I were developing consumed my every waking hour. This time, it’s Maxwell."

"You’re wrong Doug."

"No I’m not. I knew the vague definition of your relationship with your boss troubled you. And until that’s settled, you won’t be able to move on. And in all honesty, you don’t want to."

"You don’t understand. There’s nothing between Mr. Sheffield and me."

Doug chuckled. When he saw the puzzled expression on her face, he reached out and clasped her hand in his.

"That, my dear Fran, is where you’re very much mistaken."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn’t see the look on his face the day we went to lunch. He didn’t want you to go and he couldn’t very well ask you to stay."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Fran, the man loves you. He may not outwardly show it but he does."

Fran rolled her eyes and snorted. "Oh yeah, he loves me."

"I’m telling you Fran, he’s in love with you."

"So I guess sending me anonymous presents is a sign of his devotion?"

"Anonymous presents?"

"Yes. He’s been secretly sending me gifts."

"Oh?" Doug asked with a raised eyebrow. "How many gifts has he sent you?"

"Three. The first gift I got was a tube of Cadillac Red lipstick with a note."

"What did the note say?"

"I’d like to resume our relationship but resume was spelled like résumé."

"Why?"

"When I applied for the job, I didn’t have a pen. I wrote my references in lipstick."

"That’s…interesting. What was the second gift?"

"A string of black pearls."

"Was there a note?"

"I thought I lost you but you were right in front of me all along." Before he could ask, Fran explained the note. "Elizabeth Taylor came to the house. She asked me to have a bonded courier pick up her black pearl necklace that she was going to wear at a photo shoot promoting her new perfume.

Ma convinced me that it would be safer if I took them myself but I lost them when I hit my head on the divider. Eventually they were recovered."

"What was the third gift?"

"What is this, a cross examination? Am I on trial?"

Doug shook his head. "No. I’m just curious. What was the third gift he sent you?"

"He sent me a basket of bath stuff."

"Bath stuff?"

"You know shower gel, lotion, perfume, etc."

"And the note?"

"He addressed it to Nefertiti and signed it Akhenaton."

"Nefertiti and Akhenaton?"

"From the exhibit at The Met."

"I see."

He pushed himself off the bed and began to pace the floor. When he stopped suddenly, her room filled with his laughter.

"What’s so funny? Would you mind letting me in on the joke?"

"I’m sorry Fran," he replied turning around. "An odd thought just popped into my head. Did you go out after each gift?"

Fran shook her head. "No. I mean after the first gift, I was waiting to meet you at the ice cream parlor and he showed up. Of course I didn’t realize we didn’t have a date to meet at Ciao Bella’s until after I put two and two together. After I received the second gift, we went to The Met."

"And after the bath gift set, you met at the ferry. Fran, don’t you see the pattern?"

She shook her head no then watched Doug run an exasperated hand through his hair. He walked quickly back to the bed and picked up her hand once more.

"You were dating."

"What?"

"It wasn’t obvious but you two were dating. When he met you at the ferry, I’ll bet he brought you flowers."

"He did. Blush roses."

"Fran, the man, in his own quirky way, is trying to show you that he’s ready to advance your relationship to the next level."

Fran huffed, wrapping her arms tightly around the pillow in her lap.

"Yeah, okay."

"I’m serious Fran. Tell me what happened on the ferry a couple of days ago."

"We got into an argument," Fran replied. "I wanted to know why he played this silly game of toying with me emotionally instead of being up front about how he felt."

"What did he say?"

"He started talking about how disastrous my past relationships were and how when they ended I always cried on his shoulder."

"Did you?"

"Well, he’s always made time to listen and comfort me when I needed it."

"Mm-hmm."

"That’s beside the point! If he hadn’t taken back…never mind."

"No. I want to know. What did he take back?"

Fran stared at Doug. Is there anyone left in New York that doesn’t know what happened?

"Fran?"

"I’m sorry Doug. I guess I kind of got sidetracked."

"I was right! Something is going on between you two."

"Yes but not in the way you’re thinking." She patted the edge of the bed again and waited for him to sit down. "We were on the way back from Paris when the airplane started experiencing trouble. We thought we were going to die.

One thing led to another and we started kissing passionately. The next thing I knew, he told me he loved me. I had been in love with him for over a year and to find out he loved me too made me so happy.

But when we got back to New York, he said he only admitted he loved me because he thought it was our last moments on earth. I was…" Fran brushed her tears away with her fingertips. "I was hurt. More than I let on. I figured if he didn’t love me, I’d find someone who would."

Putting his arm around her, Doug replied, "Fran, I don’t think his feelings toward you changed. He still loves you. You said yourself how devastated he was after his wife died. I’m sure that had a lot to do with it."

"It did. The kids were a factor in his decision also. He was worried that if things didn’t work out between us, it would affect Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie."

"He had a valid point Fran. There was a lot more at stake than just his heart. You are the closest thing they had to a mother since their mother died."

Fran pulled out of his loose embrace. "So what are you saying? That if you were in his position you’d do the same thing?"

"No. I don’t think I would. What I am saying is that I understand how he felt."

"I understand how he felt too but at least I’d be willing to take a risk."

"You love the kids right?"

"Yes."

"Would you do anything for them?"

"Of course."

"Which would you sacrifice, your life or theirs?"

"There wouldn’t be a question. Their well being would come before mine."

Fran watched Doug smile as their conversation mulled in her mind. She knew where he was going. In the quiet moments alone, over the last year and a half, Fran realized the same thing but Maxwell’s reluctance to admit there was something between them still broke her heart.

"I know, I know," she conceded, "but it’s not like I expected him to rush out the very next day and buy me a ring. We could have dated and gotten to know each other and still not hurt the kids."

"I know. You know what else I think?"

"You’re going to tell me anyway so it’s not like I have a choice."

A slight grin crossed Doug’s face before he continued. "I think you and Maxwell need to have a serious heart to heart talk."

"I don’t know if I’m ready to see him just yet. He’s probably still mad at me."

"I doubt that. He may think you hate him and never want anything else to do with him."

"I don’t hate him. I can never hate him. I love him too much."

"I know. But he doesn’t. Talk to him Fran. You need to work things out. I’ve interfered long enough."

Fran shook her head. "Doug, you didn’t interfere."

"Yes I did. Not necessarily by my actions but by my words."

"I don’t understand."

"I wanted to pick things up where we left off. Even though I knew you loved someone else, I told you that we’d be good together if you gave us a chance."

"Doug, – "

"Listen to me Fran. I will always care for you. And believe me if it didn’t work out with you and Maxwell, I’d be the first one to come after you. But until you know for certain where you two stand, you can never move on with your life. Because somewhere deep down inside you, inside both of you, you’ll always wonder what could have been."

"How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you?" Fran asked wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Just fortunate I guess." She nudged his shoulder and smiled at Doug. "Seriously Fran. I hope everything works out for you. You deserve the best."

"Thank you. You’re not going to drop out of sight again are you?"

"No. I’ll have to keep you updated on the mishegoss Eric and I get into."

"I look forward to hearing about it."

Doug rose from the bed. Taking her hand, he left a light kiss on her cheek.

"Good luck Fran."

"Thanks Doug."

* * * * *

"Morty! Answer the phone!"

Oy, I forgot what its like living with your parents. Fran snaked her arm from beneath the covers and groped the nightstand until she found the alarm clock. I should have known.

Putting the clock back on the nightstand, she turned over and pulled the covers tightly around her. As soon as she began to drift off to sleep again, Fran heard rapid tapping on her door. Trying to ignore her mother, she buried herself further down in the covers.

Opening the door, Sylvia walked over to the bed. Stopping at the edge, she reached out and began to shake Fran’s arm.

"Fran...Fran, wake up."

"I’m up ma, I’m up. It’s not like anyone can sleep late in this house anyway."

"It’s almost twelve. What time did you go to sleep last night?"

"About four fifteen."

"Why were you up so late?"

Before Fran could reply, she heard a noise coming from Sylvia’s right hand.

"Ma, what’s that sound? It’s low and muffled."

"What? Oh." She handed Fran the phone. "It’s Val."

Sylvia stood in front of the chest of drawers, rearranging the bottles of perfume on top.

"Ma, can I have some privacy?"

"What?" Off Fran’s look, Sylvia raised her hands in concession. "I’ll be in the kitchen."

Fran shook her head then picked up the phone. "What’s going on Val?"

"Fran, you haven’t been downtown yet, have you?"

"No Val. I haven’t left the apartment since yesterday."

"You need to come down to Times Square."

"Why?"

"People are all over the place trying to figure out the meaning of this huge billboard that went up overnight."

"Who’s on it? Is he cute?"

"It’s not a he Fran. It’s a note. Just like the one that you did for Mr. Sheffield that Valentine’s Day. Remember?"

Fran’s intuition flared, sending a tingling sensation through her body. Somehow she knew the message on the billboard was for her.

"Val, can you see the billboard?"

"I’m standing right in front of it."

"What does it say?"

"Juliet, I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Romeo. I wonder who Juliet and Romeo are."

An image of her and Maxwell standing on opposite sides of the banister flashed in her mind. Fran’s body shuddered, remembering the electric current that traveled between them just before their mouths met in a tender sensuous kiss.

Val’s voice cracked the haze of Fran reliving the softness of her and Maxwell’s kiss. She fanned her hand to quell the rising heat from her body.

"Fran, where were you? I’ve been calling your name for the past two minutes."

"I’m sorry Val. What did you say?"

"I said I’ll call you later. The police are here to break up the crowd."

"Okay. I’ll talk to you later."

Fran flopped backward in bed then hung up the phone. Just as her active mind began to wrap itself around the concept of who erected the billboard and why, the phone rang again. Startled by the sudden peal of the telephone, Fran jumped and clutched her hand to her chest.

"Val, what are you trying to do kill me?"

"Ms. Fine?"

"Mr. Sheffield? I thought you were Val calling me back."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Are you all right?"

"I’m okay. You?"

"I could lie and say that I’m well but the truth is that I’m not. I miss you terribly."

"Mr. Sheffield, – "

"Please Ms. Fine. Hear me out. I’ve wanted to call you ever since you left me on the ferry."

"So why didn’t you?"

"Honestly? I wasn’t sure of your reaction." Maxwell paused to gather his thoughts before he continued. "Ms. Fine, there are many issues we need to discuss and frankly I’d rather not do this over the phone. If I send the limousine for you, will you meet me?"

Fran paused. Ordinarily she would have made it difficult for him just to see how he’d squirm his way clear but she was tired of the endless game they played.

"You’re right. We do have a lot to talk about."

"So you’ll meet me then?"

"Yes. Give me a couple of hours."

* * * * *

Maxwell paced the sidewalk, trying not to check his watch again for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Even though he sent the limousine for her, it still was no guarantee that she would actually come. He stopped in mid stride and looked up to the bright December sky.

Please God, let her keep her promise to meet me. I need to explain things to her. I need her to believe that I truly and honestly love her. I want her, I need her to be by my side forever.

He caught site of the limousine as the car turned the corner. Maxwell held his breath, watching the automobile roll to a stop in front of him. His eyes followed the chauffer as he rounded the car to open the back door of the limousine.

Fran slid fluidly from the car. Thanking the driver, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she stood in front of Maxwell. Her eyes swept across his frame, noting how casual he looked in blue jeans, an olive green turtleneck, and a black leather jacket.

Oy, he looks delicious! It should be against the law to look that good!

Maxwell’s eyes drank in the site of Fran’s curvaceous frame, lingering at the way the electric blue sweater clung to her body down to the flare of her denim-covered hips. He blew out the breath he was holding to calm himself.

She looks breathtaking. I only hope that I can tell her everything she needs to know and hear from me.

He breathed in a subtle breath then stepped toward her. Maxwell sent up a silent prayer, hoping that he hadn’t completely blown everything when they were on the ferry.

"Thank you for coming."

"I had to meet you Mr. Sheffield."

"Oh? Why was that Ms. Fine?"

"Let’s just say you had me intrigued."

Offering his arm, Maxwell looked at Fran then smiled. "Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall."

* * * * *

A slight shiver coursed through Fran as they stepped onto the roof. Breaking free of his arm, déjà vu seeped into her body when she walked toward the front of the billboard. Her mouth fell open. Hearing about the sign was one thing, seeing it with her own eyes left her awestruck.

"Do you like it?"

Fran jumped then slapped him on the arm. "Don’t scare me like that!"

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you."

"It’s okay Mr. Sheffield. Really. And yes I do like it."

"Are you hungry? I had Niles prepare a nosh for us."

Maxwell led Fran to a corner of the roof. Opening the picnic basket, he took out a blanket and unfurled it across the rooftop. He held out his hand and helped her down.

"Question," Fran said settling on the blanket. "When you were planning this little outing, did it occur to you that it was December and the temperature may not be conducive to having a picnic?"

"It maybe a bit brisk but it’s still a beautiful day. Are you cold Ms. Fine? We can always take our picnic elsewhere."

"No I’m fine…for now. So, what’s in the picnic basket?"

"Niles whipped up a few interesting dishes: shrimp and chicken lettuce wraps, cold spicy noodles, fruit salad with lemon-lime dressing, ladyfingers with strawberries and cream, cranberry-citrus vodka slush, and the optional bottled water."

"Everything sounds delish!"

While Maxwell pulled the containers from the basket, Fran arranged the plates, glasses, napkins, and utensils on the blanket. He fixed their plates, watching the gesture of her hands as she poured their drinks into the tumblers.

They discussed safe topics during lunch, skirting around the issues that lay between them. After lunch, Maxwell helped Fran seal the containers and repacked the basket.

"Thank you for lunch Mr. Sheffield. Niles really out did himself."

"It was delicious wasn’t it? And you’re more than welcome Ms. Fine."

An uneasy stillness blossomed between them. One corner of his mouth curved upward, forming a slight grin when Maxwell’s eyes met hers.

"Would you like to go for a stroll?"

"What, up here?"

"Yes. We avoided discussing the reasons why we’re meeting. I think it’s time to have our talk now. Don’t you agree?"

Fran nodded. "Yes, I think we need to have our talk."

Maxwell raised himself from the blanket then held out his hand and helped Fran to her feet. Taking her by the hand, they walked along the edge of the roof.

"I’m sorry about what happened the other day. It was not my intent to anger or hurt you."

"I know it wasn’t. I was surprised by how much anger I had suppressed for the last year and a half."

"Not half as surprised as I was."

Fran stopped walking and waited until Maxwell turned to face her.

"And just what do you mean by that Mr. Sheffield?"

"What I mean Ms. Fine is that because we never sat down and really talked about everything, your outburst took me by surprise. And I am truly sorry that I hurt you."

"That’s okay," she replied brushing the tears rolling gently down her cheek.

"No, it’s not okay."

Maxwell wrapped his arms fully around her, soothing her in soft hushed tones and whispers. Tightening his embrace, he breathed a sigh of relief when she snuggled her body against his instead of breaking their embrace as she did when they were on the ferry.

"Are you all right?" he asked when her tears began to ebb.

She answered him with a watery hiccup. "I am now. I don’t know why I have this habit of falling to pieces around you."

"Around me or because of me?"

"A little of both I suppose."

He tipped her chin so her eyes met his. Offering Fran a handkerchief, Maxwell smiled and brushed his fingers across her cheek.

"May I explain everything to you?"

"Please."

"May I call you by your first name?"

Fran blinked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

"What do you want me to call you?"

"Max or Maxwell, which ever you prefer."

She hesitated, trying to suppress the giddiness she felt. Flicking her tongue across her lips, Fran took a quick breath then spoke his name.

"Max?"

He laughed then left a light peck on her lips. "Yes darling?"

"Is this real? I’m not dreaming this, am I?"

"Oh yes sweetheart. This is very real. Now may I continue?"

"Yes."

Maxwell took her hand and placed it over his thundering heart. Fran looked at him and smiled.

"I’m in love with you Fran. And I have been for a very long time."

"Then why did you take it back?"

"Because I was afraid. I thought I’d never love another woman other than Sara and when I began to harbor feelings for you, it scared me. My feelings, my love for you was different from anything I felt before. You’re vibrant and fun and meet life’s challenges head on."

"And that made you afraid of me?"

"Yes. I was afraid your spirit, your fire would consume me. That’s plenty to fear if you’re a shy, conservative person."

"But now you’re ready to face your fears?"

"Yes."

"What changed your mind?"

"I had a dream a few weeks ago. I was alone on a sailboat. Everything was calm and peaceful then out of nowhere a storm came up and nearly capsized the boat. Then suddenly everything was calm again and I was okay.

I started to ask you what the dream meant but somehow I knew it had to do with you. I went to a trusted friend who explained the meaning of the dream.

Remember that night I came home late? When I told you that I consulted with a colleague during the morning and spent the rest of the day researching a potential new project?"

"Yes."

"I went to see Sara. I knew I had to lay the past to rest in order to move on with our lives. I met a lovely woman named Monica at the cemetery.

As she told me about her life, it was eerily similar to my own. She told me if her friends and family had not convinced her to take a second chance at love, she would have deprived herself of a meaningful relationship."

"Sounds like you two had an interesting little talk."

"We did. What was more intriguing was my conversation with the children."

"When did you talk to them?"

"A few days after Margaret caught us in the living room." Maxwell paused, remembering his conversation with Maggie, Brighton, and Grace. "They are a lot more perceptive than I give them credit for. They’ve known for a long time that I loved you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was completely astounded when they said that we were married and had been for quite sometime."

Fran shook her head, awed by the quick turn of events.

"What made them say that?"

"You’ve escorted me to plays and premieres. We’ve gone on dinner dates. When I enter a room, you are the first person I look for and if you’re not there I am disappointed and want to know where you are."

"They said that?"

"Yes. Although all of those examples were important, the most significant point was that you made us a family again. You have loved each of us, separately and collectively, unconditionally."

"Oh Max. I don’t know what to say."

"There is one more thing concerning the children. They told me they regard you as their mother."

"Now I really don’t know what to say."

Fran walked away from Maxwell. He cautiously followed her, trying to gage her reaction. He turned her by the shoulders and tipped her chin upward.

"Fran? Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"I’m fine. I’m just so…so overwhelmed by everything."

"I hope that’s in a good way."

Fran flung her arms around his neck. "Oh yes, it’s in a very good way." She pulled back a little and stared in his eyes. "I love you so much Maxwell."

"I love you too Fran."

"I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that."

"What? I love you or Fran?"

"Both."

Maxwell laughed then kissed her again. "Then I’ll say it until I can no longer speak. And when my voice can no longer be heard, I will find a way for you to know how much you mean to me."

Cradling her face in the palm of his hands, Maxwell brushed light kisses over her face before capturing her mouth. He teased her lips with his tongue, tracing the crease of her mouth.

Their heated moans resonated between them. Maxwell pulled away from her, trying to control his labored breathing. Resting his forehead against hers, he drew Fran back into his arms.

"See what you do to me? You make me forget that I am a proper gentleman. A gentleman would never publicly take advantage of a woman he’s courting. You have besotted me with your charm and beauty."

Fran pulled slightly away from him. Arching her eyebrow, she murmured his name in a luscious, carnal growl.

"Mr. Sheffield..."

"I’d rather hear you speak that way using my first name."

"That can be arranged."

"We still have some things we need to discuss."

Sliding her fingers down his back, Fran asked, "Are you trying to distract me?"

"No. I’m trying to distract myself from the unchaste thoughts I have of you."

"Okay, but we will get back to the naughty thoughts running through that head of yours."

"Definitely."

He took her hand in his and they continued their walk along the length of the roof. After a while, Maxwell released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. When they had nearly completed the perimeter of the roof, Fran stopped walking.

"How long are we going to pace the roof before we finish talking?"

"Actually I was trying to figure out how to start." Maxwell sighed then looked at Fran.

Brushing her hand across his cheek, Fran said, "Just tell me."

"All right. The night when Margaret interrupted us, you asked me a question. Do you remember what it was?"

"Not really. We’ve said a lot of things since that night."

"You said you understood how embarrassing it was to be caught by one of the children. That the only thing we were doing was kissing."

"I remember now that you mentioned it. You said it was a lot more than kissing and when I asked you what it was, you didn’t answer."

"Because I couldn’t answer how I wanted to. I wasn’t prepared for your response."

"But you are now?"

Strands of gray and black curled around his fingers as Maxwell slid his hand through his hair.

"Yes. It was a lot more Fran. We were embarking upon our first time together. We were about to make love."

"I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you have told me that?"

"Are you telling me that if I said that, you would have just dropped everything? I didn’t want to drop everything. Having Margaret catch us the way she did changed everything."

"I know that Max. What do you think I am, some sex starved floozy that would disregard her child and pursue her own pleasure? I thought you knew me better than that Maxwell Sheffield!"

He held his hand to his temple, attempting to quell the dull throbbing in his skull.

"That’s not what I meant Fran. I’m sorry. I do know you. I know you’d never neglect the children in any fashion. I guess what I’m trying to say, rather awkwardly, is that if we had made love that night it would have changed our relationship. I readily admit that I wouldn’t have been prepared for that transformation."

"I know."

Fran took his hand and laced their fingers together. She glanced up and watched a myriad of emotions dance in his eyes.

"It’s okay Max. I understand. Truly I do. And you’re right. If we had slept together that night, everything between us would have changed. I don’t want our first time together to be rushed or awkward."

She slid her arms around his waist, still holding his olive gaze.

"When I have you in my bed, in my arms, I want everything to be perfect. Or damn near close to it."

"You seem awfully confident Ms. Fine," he replied swaying with her gently in his arms.

"Oh believe me Mr. Sheffield, I know. It’s no longer a matter of if; it’s a matter of when."

He leaned into her and seized her mouth with his. "I love you Fran."

"I love you too Max."

Maxwell drew first her top then her bottom lip into his mouth before pressing his lips fully to hers. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he felt Fran’s body shift.

Tilting her head, she parted her lips in invitation and coaxed his mouth open with her tongue. Hums of pleasure sounded in his throat as Fran explored the depth and crevice of his mouth.

His tongue furled around hers, escalating the intensity of their kiss. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Maxwell drew her body into his. As she pressed herself into his body, a reminder of where they were flashed in his mind.

"We need to stop," Maxwell said breaking their kiss. His breathing came in rough, labored patches.

"You’re right. This isn’t exactly the right time or place to do this."

"This is your fault you know."

Fran drew back and stared at him. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Because you’re too damn irresistible."

"Excuse me, you resisted me before. Why the sudden change now?"

"Resisting you before was a sign of my fear and stupidity. It’s a mistake I hope to rectify in the near future."

"I certainly hope so."

"There is one other thing I’d like to discuss with you sweetheart."

"What’s that Max?"

Maxwell looked at Fran. The last thing he wanted to do was make her angry but he needed to know where they stood.

"Fran, I want…I need to know…do you have any feelings for Mr. Abrams?"

"He’s my friend Max."

"Do you love him?"

"I do love him but only as a friend. You’re the one that I’m in love with. Nothing or no one can change that."

"So there’s really nothing between you?"

"For God’s sake Max, stop beating a dead horse! I have been in love with you for over three years. How many times do I have to say this to you? I could date a thousand men but none of them can make me feel the way you do.

None of them can compare to you. I love everything about you. Your warmth, your smile, your compassion, your odd quirks. I love the way you say my name whether it be in a fit of anger or a fit of passion. Even the things that drive me crazy make me love you all the more."

Fran blew out a sigh and stared at Maxwell. The merriment in his eyes spilled into the grin plastered on his face.

"What?"

Taking her hand, he pulled her to him. "If I had to list every reason why I love you, we’d be here forever. But know this: I will love you Fran Fine until the last breath is drawn from my body. And even then my love for you will continue for eternity."

"Oh Maxwell, that’s so sweet."

The back of Fran’s hand caressed his jaw. She pressed her mouth to his and left a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Why did you change your mind the other night?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were going to kiss me in my bedroom the other night but you changed your mind. Then when we were standing in the hallway, you kissed me. So why did you change your mind?"

Maxwell combed the stray threads of hair from her face.

"I wanted to kiss you desperately but Niles or one of the children could have walked in on us. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened with Margaret."

"Then why did you kiss me in the hallway? It was riskier than being in my bedroom."

"You’re right. It was riskier. I know my logic didn’t make sense but I couldn’t have left you without giving you a small token of my affection."

"Max that was no ordinary kiss in the hallway. That was the kind of kiss that leads to other things."

"I wanted to go further but the children were home. As much as I love you and as ready as I am to take our relationship to the next level, we still have to set a proper example for them."

"I understand what you’re saying Max but when it first happened, your actions confused me."

"I know. I apologize for sending you mixed signals yet again."

Maxwell wrapped his arms around her waist and left a slight kiss on her lips.

"You don’t know how hard it was for me not to press your body against the wall and place feverish kisses across your face, your lips, and down the column of your throat."

Fran pulled back slightly and fanned herself with her hand.

"Hoo-ha! You know sweetie, we have a little privacy up here. Want to have a little fun?"

His mouth dropped open in shock. "Fran!"

"You are just so cute when you blush!"

A shy boyish smile graced his features. Lowering his eyes, Maxwell met her mouth with a hesitant kiss that gradually turned frenetic. He pulled away from Fran before the electricity of their kiss consumed him.

"That’s one of the many things I love about you Fran."

Fran looked at Maxwell and smiled. "What do you love about me?"

"I love your sense of humor and your compassion. The way you love with your entire being but most importantly, I love your willingness to forgive." Maxwell caressed her mouth in a soft kiss. "Thank you for forgiving me for hurting you Fran."

"Max, are you willing to love me openly, honestly, and with your whole heart?"

"Yes."

"Then you’re already forgiven." Returning his gentle kiss, Fran asked, "Do you want to know one of the things I love about you?"

"Of course darling."

Fran drew her arms around him and snuggled against his lean, muscular frame. Nuzzling his neck, she breathed in the scent of his cologne.

"I love the simple pleasure of being held in your arms."

A gentle breeze danced around them, as they stood securely enveloped in each other’s arms. Fran raised her head from the crook of his neck when an internal nudge rousted her from the haven of his embrace.

"Maxwell?"

"Yes Fran?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course sweetheart. What do you want to know?"

Fran walked away from him and sat on the edge of the roof. She patted the space next to her and waited for Maxwell to sit down.

"I’m not really sure how to ask this question."

"That’s all right darling," he replied lacing their fingers together. "Take your time."

Drawing a light breath, she said, "When Doug and I were talking the other day, we discussed my – our relationship."

"What, yours and mine?"

"Yes. I told him about the gifts and the couple of times we went out. I didn’t put everything together. He did. And what he told me surprised me."

Maxwell resisted the urge to pull away from Fran. He swallowed nervously; fear began to sink into his being.

"What did he tell you Fran?"

"Doug told me that we – that you and I had been dating. Were we dating?" He hesitated, unsure of Fran’s reaction. "I’m not mad Max, I just need to know if it’s true."

"Fran you know I’m a structured person. I need to have things done in a particular manner. But you’re not. As I said before you meet life’s challenges head on. You’re spontaneous and vibrant and fun and that’s why I love you. I wanted to do something…unique. I thought you’d appreciate my inventiveness."

"I do appreciate your originality Max, really I do. I just wish you told me we were dating."

"That would have ruined my surprise. I wanted to do something to you that you’ve done to me from the moment I met you."

Fran arched her eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Catch you off guard."

Maxwell tugged lightly on Fran’s hand and pulled her into his arms. He captured her lips with a light peck then tightened his arms around her.

"Well you certainly did that with the notes and gifts you gave me." Returning his kiss, Fran continued. "It wasn’t until after the third gift did I realized the significance of your notes."

"Did I impress you?"

"More than you know. I know you’re an artistic person professionally but it’s such a turn-on to see the personal side of your creativity."

Claiming her mouth in a series of gentle kisses, Maxwell replied, "Fran, you haven’t seen all of my creative abilities."

"And I’m looking forward to the day when I see that side of you – up close and very personal."

Framing her hands around his face, Fran met his mouth in a passionate kiss. She slid her hand across his jaw, tunneling her fingers through his curly tresses. She felt the slim digits of Maxwell’s hand trace the curve of her hip stopping at her waist.

He couldn’t think properly. His mind filled with the ungentlemanly idea of taking her under the clear December sky. Maxwell felt her body tremble and he briefly wondered whether it was from the chilly afternoon air, her desire for him, or a combination of the two.

Breaking free from her fervent spell, Maxwell gazed into her dark hypnotic brown eyes.

"I love you Fran. I am consumed by you to the very core of my soul."

"I love you too Maxwell. More than I can ever say." With a final kiss, Fran whispered, "Take me home."

* * * * *

Maxwell shoved the key into the dead bolt and unlocked the door. He paused before twisting the knob to enter the house.

"Are you ready to see your children?" Maxwell asked lacing their fingers together.

Fran nodded. "Absolutely. I missed them so much."

"What about their father?"

"I suppose I missed him too."

"Not as half as much as he missed you."

"Trying to score brownie points Mr. Sheffield?"

"That depends. Is it working Ms. Fine?"

She ran her index finger under his chin and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I’ll get back to you on that."

"Promise?"

"Definitely."

Stillness greeted Fran and Maxwell when they stepped inside the mansion. Setting the basket on the foyer table, they strained to listen for any sound that would tell them where Niles, Maggie, Brighton, and Grace were.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "I wonder where the children are?"

Fran checked her watch. "Considering the time, they’re either in their rooms or eating dinner."

Taking her by the hand, Maxwell led Fran toward the dining room. He stopped short of the entryway when they heard the children talking. Holding his finger to his mouth, Maxwell motioned for Fran to be quiet.

"Do you think she’s coming back?" Grace asked.

"She has to Gracie," Brighton replied. "We love her and she loves us."

"What about daddy?" Maggie asked. "He loves Fran too."

Brighton huffed, pushing his dinner around the plate with his fork. "He’s taking too long. Dad should have told Fran how he felt a long time ago."

"Daddy’s repressed emotions are a result of internalizing his grief. If he had dealt with mom’s death in therapy, he wouldn’t be reluctant to express his feelings for Fran."

"You know Gracie, since Fran’s been apart of our lives, you don’t break into psychobabble as often as you use to," Brighton said. "But you still don’t sound quite normal."

"Of all people, you are the last one who can define what’s normal," Maggie replied.

Maxwell pulled Fran away from the threshold of the dining room. He leaned over and pressed his mouth close to her ear.

"I’ll go in first. Wait a few minutes and then come in behind me."

Fran’s eyes drifted shut against the softness of his words and lips caressing the edge of her ear. She drew in a light breath to control the shiver that traveled through her body. Her eyes snapped open when Maxwell kissed her ear then trailed his lips down the side of her neck.

"Don’t start something you’re not going to finish."

"We’re just putting this on pause for now. Darling, trust me when I tell you that I’m just getting started."

Giving him one last kiss, Fran brushed her fingers across his mouth to wipe off the residue from her lipstick. As he started toward the dining room, she grabbed him by the arm.

"I know why you want to go in first."

"Why?"

With a quick wink, she replied, "Because you know my favorite view."

"In that case, after dinner, you can leave before me," he replied. Maxwell flashed an impish grin then entered the dining room.

"Good evening children."

"When did you get home?" Brighton asked.

"I’ve been here about ten minutes. What have you three been up to today?"

"Nothing much," Maggie replied, "just hanging around the house."

Grace slid out of her chair and walked over to Maxwell. "Daddy, have you spoken with Fran?"

"Yes I have."

Niles pushed the swing door open and entered the room. "I thought I heard your voice sir."

Picking up a plate from the buffet, he fixed Maxwell’s dinner and set it in front of him.

"Thank you Niles."

Four sets of eyes focused on Maxwell as he ate dinner. Frustrated by his father’s silence, Brighton dropped his fork across his plate.

"Dad?"

"Yes Brighton?"

"Is that all you’re going to say? That you’ve spoken with Fran?"

Maxwell pinched the inside of his jaw with the edge of his teeth to kill the urge to laugh. He took a sip of water and resumed eating dinner.

"Daddy, is Fran coming home?" Maggie asked.

"Oh. Is that what you all want to know?"

Niles, Maggie, Grace, and Brighton exchanged frustrated glances.

"Yes!" they replied in unison.

"Good evening everyone!"

Maggie, Brighton, and Grace looked up to see Fran posing with her arms stretched diagonally in the entrance of the dining room.

"Fran!"

They bolted from the table and flung their arms around Fran, overwhelming her in their embrace. Speaking at once, their voices accelerated, all vying for her attention.

Maxwell and Niles watched the scene unfolding before them. Fran returned Maggie, Brighton, and Grace’s affection as she hugged and kissed all three children and simultaneously managed to hold multiple conversations.

Leaning down, Niles whispered, "The children are very happy to have their mother back home."

"Yes," Maxwell murmured absently, "they’re overjoyed." Quirking his eyebrow, he shifted in his chair to face Niles. "Did you say what I think you just said?"

"You heard me correctly sir. She’s been their mother for five years. At least I thought so. Of course my thoughts were confirmed several nights ago when I heard you and Ms. Fine in the hallway."

"You were in the hallway?"

"Don’t worry sir," Niles replied. "I didn’t see or hear anything else."

Maxwell watched Niles move toward the buffet and prepare a plate for Fran.

"Margaret, Grace, Brighton please sit down and finish your dinner. I’m sure Fran would like to have dinner as well."

The jubilation in the dining room finally settled as Fran and the children made their way to the table. Grace turned and looked at her father realizing that he addressed their nanny by her first name.

"Daddy, you called her Fran!"

"That is her name sweetheart."

"Wait a minute," Brighton said. "If you’re calling Fran by her first name, does this mean you finally told her that you love her?"

"Yes Brighton. I realize that I did take too long to tell her how I feel."

Maggie hid her grin at her brother’s flushed embarrassed face behind the cloth napkin.

"I’m happy you two told each other how you feel. So when are you getting married?"

Maxwell looked at his eldest daughter. He knew that was the next logical step for every couple but she was getting ahead of his plan.

"Margaret!"

"Well if you two love each other, I don’t understand the big deal about that question?"

"Fran and I will discuss that when the time is right. It’s not open for conversation at this time."

Maxwell reached over and squeezed Fran’s fingers. When she returned the slight gesture, he kissed the back of her hand then resumed dinner.

Placing a plate in front of her, Niles whispered, "Welcome home Ms. Fine."

"Thanks Niles. It’s good to be home."

* * * * *

Maxwell looped his arm around Fran’s waist as they headed up the staircase. Rounding the corner, they went to each of the children’s room to check on them and bid them goodnight. Before escorting Fran to her room, Maxwell stopped in his bedroom to pick up a small gift bag.

"Here you are. Delivered safe and secure to your room."

"Don’t you want to come in and check for monsters under my bed and in my closet?"

"I guess I should. I don’t want any bodily harm to befall you."

Taking him by the hand, Fran entered the bedroom then closed the door behind him. Flattening her palms against his chest, she pushed her fingers over his shoulders and locked her hands behind his neck.

Maxwell pulled Fran completely into him, absently dropping the gift bag to the floor. Crushing his lips against hers, her mouth acquiesced to the gentle teasing of his tongue. His lips moved across her skin, tracing the line of her jaw in hot wet kisses. They moaned in unison, reveling in the affect they had on each other.

A sensuous purr left Fran’s throat when she felt his arousal pressing into her. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted Maxwell to show her how much he loved her but the unwelcome thought of the children or Niles finding them tangled in her bed planted itself in her subconscious.

Maxwell felt Fran push against his chest. He reluctantly broke their kiss, still caught in the sensual haze she held over him. He swallowed hard, trying to control his unsteady breath.

"Max, we need to stop. We can’t, not while the kids are home."

"I know. I don’t mean to rush you or be presumptuous but I – "

Fran pressed her hand to his lips. "You don’t need to explain Max. I understand. Believe me, I feel the same way too." When she turned around, Fran noticed the small bag lying on its side. "Max, what’s this?"

"What’s what Fran?"

"This little silver bag."

"Oh." Maxwell picked the bag up and handed it to her. "This is for you."

"A welcome home gift?"

"Not exactly. It’s your fourth gift. Actually, you were supposed to have gotten this before our date. If you think about it, the pattern has been gift/date, gift/date, gift/date except for today. It’s out of order."

Fran crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. Plucking out the tissue paper, she turned the bag upside down, watching the contents spill out.

"You’re going to make me work for this one, aren’t you?" she asked picking up the wrapped items.

"I was hoping you’d see it as mysterious."

"You know, when it comes to personal things, suspense doesn’t hold that much allure for me."

He traced her jaw with the back of his index finger. "Humor me darling. Okay?"

"You’re lucky I love you."

She picked up the first item then shook it. It was flat, square and very light in weight. Pulling at the taped edge, Fran quickly tore off the wrapping paper. She looked at the item in her hand then to Maxwell.

"It’s a CD."

"I know what it is Max. What I want to know is why did you give me a CD by The Seekers?"

"Turn the CD over Fran and look at the tenth song."

Fran flipped the jewel case over. Her finger ran across the song list until she found the one she was looking for. She glanced up at Maxwell and saw him trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

"Georgy Girl?"

"Open your other present."

She arched her eyebrow then tore open the smaller square box. Inside the blue velvet box was a pair of diamond studs.

"Oh Maxwell," Fran gasped taking the earrings from the case, "they’re beautiful."

He watched as she tilted her head from one side to the other, slipping the earrings in her ears.

"They’re beautiful darling. Just like you."

Fran ran to her vanity. Pushing back her hair, she marveled at the sparkle of the diamonds in her ears.

"Max, thank you so much."

"They too have a special significance."

"What do you mean?"

"Read the card." She walked back to the bed and picked up the envelope. As Fran opened the sealed edge, Maxwell said, "You will note that unlike the ones before, this note is in my handwriting."

To my Georgy Girl, ice for your itchy ears.

Fran laughed then flung her arms around him. "Maxwell Sheffield, you are the most frustrating and delightful man I know. I love you."

"You, Fran Fine, are the most exhilarating, generous, and vexing woman I have ever met. You have captured my heart and soul and I love you too."

He slid his arms around her waist. Leaving a quick peck on her lips, Maxwell sighed and pulled her into his body.

"Just the thought of losing you scares the hell out of me."

"You’re never going to lose me Max," said Fran returning his gentle kiss. "I’m yours. Now and forever."

* * * * *

When Maxwell entered the kitchen, he found Fran sitting at the counter holding the phone with her shoulder. She picked at a slice of coffee cake, vaguely interested in her current conversation. Dropping a tea bag in his cup, Maxwell took the kettle off the stove and poured hot water in his mug.

"Your mother?" he asked mouthing the question.

Fran nodded. "Ma, I’ve got to go. Max just came in and he needs my help. No, you can’t talk to him right now. He’s in the middle of a project. I promise, I’ll call you back. Okay. Love you too."

Maxwell grinned when she set the phone on the counter. "That wasn’t very nice of you sweetheart, lying to your mother that way."

"Do you want me to call her back? She’d love to tell you about her trip to Boca. You can hear all about her flight down, what food was served on the plane, her visit to Marsha and Jack’s new condo, the restaurants she and daddy went to. Need I go on?"

"I retract my earlier statement."

"Good boy. Now come here and give me a proper kiss."

He stopped stirring his tea and rounded the island. Pulling Fran to her feet, he leaned down and brushed his mouth across hers in light playful kisses.

Threading her fingers through his hair, Fran held his head steady and pressed her mouth fully against his. She felt his arms engulf her waist as their kiss became frenetic and wanton.

Niles pushed the swing door open. Surprised but not shocked to see his employer and best friend intimately intertwined, he reluctantly interrupted them before one of the children caught them in a less than flattering situation.

"The children are out with their friends and haven’t come home yet. Perhaps you two should retreat to…higher ground?"

A sharp gasp rose between Fran and Maxwell when they heard Niles’ voice. Wiping the lipstick from his mouth, Maxwell grabbed his cup of tea and started for the door.

"Um, good afternoon Niles. I have some things to finish regarding the play. I’ll be in the my office if you need me."

Fran watched Maxwell’s quickly retreating figure exit the kitchen. Turning around, she arched her eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

"What?"

"You really know how to clear a room, don’t you?"

"I was just stating a fact Ms. Fine. You didn’t want one of the children to walk in on you again did you?"

"Again?"

"I know about the night Ms. Margaret found you and Mr. Sheffield in the living room."

"Is nothing sacred around here?"

"When it comes to the two of you? No."

Shaking her head, Fran replied, "I’ll be upstairs if the kids need me."

Niles bit the inside of his jaw to curb his automatic response. He watched Fran trot up the steps then started preparations for dinner.

* * * * *

Fran lay in the center of her bed clutching a pillow to her chest. She glanced around the room, making out the shadows of furniture that inhabited her sanctuary. Her thoughts drifted back to a few nights ago when she and Maxwell stood in the center of the room kissing.

It was much more than kissing, she thought with a smile. That was an exploration of each other.

Her body grew flush remembering how Maxwell’s hands skimmed her curvy frame.

If the kids weren’t home, would we have taken the final step? Now that he’s willing to share his heart, is he willing to share his bed?

Fran was more than willing to take the next step but she didn’t want to push Maxwell so soon after he finally expressed his feelings for her.

I’m still awed by the fact that the man said he loves me!

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out a bottle of Aramis. Spraying her pillow with the cologne, Fran set the bottle back in her nightstand and closed the drawer. She drew the pillow into her arms, deeply inhaling the scent.

It may not be the real thing, she thought drifting off into a peaceful slumber, but it’s only a matter of time before my fantasy becomes a reality.

* * * * *

Maxwell leaned back in the green leather chair, drumming his fingers along the desktop. A light smile danced across his face as thoughts of his relationship with Fran filled his head. His mind wandered back to the moments they shared over the past few weeks.

We certainly have had a unique courtship. Who would have thought that overhearing Fran and Niles’ conversation would push me into admitting my feelings – not only to myself but to Fran as well?

His smiled broadened, remembering their first shared meal without Maggie, Brighton, and Grace’s presence in the dining room. After spending the day soul searching about their future, it was comforting to revel in the intimacy of their evening.

An illicit shudder coursed through his body at the memory of their near liaison in the living room.

I wanted her so much that night. It would have been easy for me to pick her up, carry her to my room, and lay her across my bed.

I would have slowly undressed her, taken my time to discover what pleased her. Touching her, tasting her, exploring all of her, making Fran plead her need for me until our bodies met in fervent convergence.

Although it didn’t turn out the way either of us wanted, I guess that was our first unofficial date.

His face faltered. He could hear her words in his mind clear as the day she said them on the rooftop a few days ago.

"I do appreciate your originality Max, really I do. I just wish you had told me we were dating."

She’s right. Although our outings were creative, we need to go on a real date. A candlelight dinner. Maybe a little dancing. Something romantic. That’s the very least she deserves.

Maxwell turned around and pulled his chair up to the desk. Reaching for a pad, he began to scribble out his ideas to romance Fran.

It’s only a matter of time before we take the final step in our relationship. Before he could set pen to paper again, a salacious thought surfaced in his mind. And marriage too.

A wide smile broke across Maxwell’s face as he finished writing his plans in a frantic pace. Quickly glancing over the list, he folded the paper in half and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair.

Stuffing the list in his breast pocket as he rounded the desk, Maxwell yanked the door open to a surprised and startled Niles.

"Sir, is everything all right?"

"Just fine Niles." Shrugging on his jacket, he continued, "I’m going out for a little while. If I’m not back by dinner, start without me."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a few errands I need to take care of."

Niles stood back and watched Maxwell sprint through the living room. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Niles raised a curious eyebrow at his employer’s peculiar behavior.

I wonder where he’s off to in such a hurry?

* * * * *

It was ten minutes to eleven when Maxwell entered the house. Closing the door quietly, he set the shopping bags down to lock the door before heading upstairs for the night. Tempted to hide his purchases in the closet, Maxwell changed his mind and made his way up the staircase.

Wandering down the hallway, he stopped at Maggie’s room. Softly opening the door, the light from the hall cast enough light for him to see his eldest child. She had fallen asleep with a Jackie Collins novel laying face down at her side.

I’ll talk to Fran about that later.

Placing the book on her nightstand, Maxwell pulled the comforter over Maggie, kissed her forehead, and left the room.

Entering Brighton’s room, the corner of Maxwell’s mouth curved in a slight grin. His son, like his eldest daughter, had fallen asleep with a book at his side. He picked the book up, surprised by its subject.

Jewish Literacy: The Most Important Things to Know About the Jewish Religion, Its People and Its History. Maxwell smiled down at his son. That boy always finds a new way to amaze me.

Pulling the covers over his son, Maxwell brushed Brighton’s fine blond hair off his forehead. A full smile developed across his face before he turned and walked out of his son’s room.

Curled up on her side, Grace had her teddy bear clutched in her arms when Maxwell stepped into her room. Looking at his youngest child, he was awed by the duality of her personality. She spewed complex thoughts and psychological explanations yet balanced it with a steadfast youthful idealism.

Biologically she may be Sara’s but Grace is Fran’s child as well. Maybe more so because Fran entered her life at such a young age.

As Grace shifted in bed, her teddy bear fell to the floor. Reaching down, Maxwell slid the stuffed animal back in his daughter’s arms. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek then slipped from her room.

Maxwell set the shopping bags down and stood in front of Fran’s door. He glanced at the brass doorknob, hesitant to reach out and twist it open. He hadn’t been in her bedroom since the night Fran came home a few nights ago.

Do I really want to do this? I could just wait until tomorrow to give Fran her presents instead of entering her bedroom and risk waking her.

He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image of Fran alone in bed.

You can do this. Just concentrate on the reason you’re here.

Taking a deep breath, Maxwell clutched the knob and pushed her door open. He stilled for a moment, watching Fran sleep.

God she’s beautiful. I can’t believe how fortunate I am. How many times can a man say he’s been blessed to have not one but two true loves in one lifetime?

How many times can one say that not only did they play Russian Roulette with their true love’s feelings but managed to have their love hold out until their feelings were reciprocated? Maxwell shook his head. Not many.

Closing the door behind him, Maxwell waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before maneuvering through Fran’s room. He had done well, easing pass her bed until he stumbled into her vanity.

Maxwell pressed his fist to his mouth, sinking his teeth into the back of his hand until the sharp pain diminished to a dull throb. Grateful that Fran hadn’t waken, he moved toward her closet. Reaching inside one of the shopping bags, Maxwell carefully opened her closet and hooked the garment bag over the door.

He took cautious steps away from the closet, holding out his hand until he felt the corner of the vanity. Sliding his fingers along the wooden edge, Maxwell’s hand stopped when he felt the back of her chair.

Lifting the boxes by the satin ribbon, Maxwell set them on the chair. He folded the empty shopping bag as quietly as he could and slid it inside the other sack before edging his way toward the door.

Maxwell paused to watch Fran sleep. She was facing him with her arms wrapped tightly around her pillow. He closed his eyes as the image of Fran laying in his bed with her arm draped over his chest surfaced in his mind.

Setting the bag near her nightstand, he kneeled beside her bed. Maxwell reached out and traced the contours of her face with his fingertips.

"You’re so beautiful Fran. You have no idea how much I love you."

He bent his head toward her. Hesitating for a moment, he inhaled the scent of his cologne on her pillow. A mixture of pride and desire flowed through him, knowing she thought of him as she slept.

Maxwell met her mouth with a soft peck then pulled away from her. Tracing her lips, he leaned into her and pressed his mouth fully to hers.

Rolling Fran onto her back, Maxwell lost himself in the awkward rhythm of their kiss. He felt her moan softly as her kiss became stronger. Breaking their kiss, he cupped her jaw and watched her struggle to open her eyes.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her eyes closing under the burden of sleep. "I was worried about you. Where did you go?"

"Shh. Everything will become clear in the morning. Go back to sleep."

"You’re kidding right? After you woke me up with that kiss?"

"I plan to do a lot more than that someday. But you need your rest." Maxwell leaned down and left a light peck on her lips. "I’ll see you in the morning. Good night my love."

"Good night Max," Fran replied returning his kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He kissed her a final time and rose to his full height. Adjusting her bed covers, Maxwell ran his fingers across her cheek then exited her room.

* * * * *

Fran slowly opened her eyes, taking in the pre-dawn light seeping into her bedroom. She blew out a deep breath as she stretched, wallowing in the stillness that engulfed the mansion.

A smile graced her lips as Fran remembered the delicious dream of Maxwell’s body firmly on top of hers, kissing her into consciousness.

It seemed so real, she thought running her fingers across her lips. His kiss was so tender yet strong and passionate. I would have loved if we had gone further. Her face clouded over with concern. That’s odd. Normally when I dream of him, of the two of us together, we make love. But I didn’t this time. Oh well, that too is just a matter of time.

Clutching the pillow in her arms, Fran turned over and closed her eyes. She snuggled down in her bed covers when her eyes snapped open. Raising her head off the pillow, Fran stared at the closet door.

Where did that come from?

She tossed her covers aside and slid out of bed. Taking a few short steps to her closet, Fran ran her hand down the garment bag. She eased the zipper down and pulled the protective cover off the hanger.

Oh my god, it’s beautiful! Her fingers slid over the red silk beaded halter dress. That wasn’t a dream! He was here last night!

She slipped the garment bag back over the dress. As she turned to climb back into bed, Fran noticed the boxes sitting on her chair. Padding over to the vanity, she stared at the two boxes tied together.

What am I going to do with that man? A devilish grin appeared on her face. Well I know what I’d like to do with him!

Fran took the cartons from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. Unraveling the ribbon, she pushed the bow aside and opened the top box. She dug through the tissue paper and pulled out a red silk handbag shaped like a rose bloom.

What a beautiful bag! I wonder if he picked this out himself.

Setting the handbag aside, Fran took the top off the second box. She held her hand over her mouth in awe as she lifted one high-heeled shoe from the box. The three and a quarter inch red satin sandal had a bow across the toe and a silver star that dangled from the ankle strap.

He is so sweet! But he didn’t have to buy me anything! She shook her head putting the shoe back in the box. I have to think of a proper way to thank him.

When she heard the sounds of Maggie, Grace, and Brighton stirring in the hallway, Fran turned toward the clock sitting on her nightstand.

Oy, I’d better get my tuchas in gear if I want to have breakfast with Max and the kids!

* * * * *

"Good morning everyone!"

Maggie, Brighton, and Grace looked up as Fran glided into the dining room. She rounded the chairs then took her usual spot at the table.

"Morning Fran," they replied in near unison.

"Good morning Ms. Fine," Niles said setting a plate in front of her.

"Good morning Niles. Oh, Belgian waffles! Mmm yummy. My favorite." Fran looked at the empty chair to her left. "Hey guys, where’s your father?"

Brighton shrugged his shoulders. "I don’t know. Maybe he’s still asleep."

"I wonder what time he came in last night?" Maggie asked. "It had to be pretty late."

Hearing the swing door open, Fran turned around to face Niles as he reentered the dining room.

"Niles, have you seen Maxwell?"

"Yes. Mr. Sheffield had an early breakfast then went to his office to work on the arrangements for his next production. Forgive me for not passing on his message to you but Mr. Sheffield would like to see you in his office after you finish breakfast."

"Okay. Thanks Niles." Slicing a wedge of her waffles with her fork, she asked, "So kids, what do you all have planned for today?"

"Well I was going to meet some of my friends at the mall later on," Maggie replied.

"I was going to the movies with Jeff and Peter," Brighton added.

Grace looked up when she realized everyone was looking at her. "I don’t have any plans."

"Maybe we can find something to do later on if you want Gracie."

"I thought you’d want to spend time alone with daddy Fran."

Fran shrugged her shoulders. "That depends on how busy your father is with his project."

* * * * *

Maxwell stood behind the door, waiting for Fran to enter his office. When she left the dining room, Niles buzzed him from the kitchen to let him know she was on her way. After his late night trip to her room, Maxwell spent a restless night in bed trying to decide how he was going to approach Fran about their date.

He glanced over at the end table by the sofa and smiled. The delphiniums overflowed in the blue frosted vase. The flowers were beautiful, bursting with vivacity and brilliance.

Much like the woman receiving them.

Holding his breath, Maxwell waited as the soft click of her heels drew closer.

Where is he, Fran wondered staring into his office.

From her view, Maxwell wasn’t at his usual spot behind his desk. Entering the room, she peered around the door to see if he was on the patio. When Fran walked pass the door, Maxwell reached out and snaked his arm around her waist.

"Good morning sweetheart," he whispered nuzzling her neck.

Fran swatted him on the arm. "Maxwell! You scared me!"

"I’m sorry Fran," he replied pushing the door shut, "I wanted to greet you in a special way."

Turning in his embrace, she slipped her arms around his neck and said, "I prefer you greet me this way."

Running her fingers through his hair, Fran smiled then pressed her lips to his. Slowly deepening her kiss, she felt Maxwell’s arms tighten around her waist.

"Good morning Maxwell," she breathed breaking their kiss.

"You’re right," he whispered gulping for air, "your way is much better."

"Believe me honey that was just a preview. I have a more unique way than that to greet you."

Maxwell closed his eyes as she left a trail of kisses along the side of his neck. A soft moan sprang from his throat before he could rein it in.

"Fran, are you trying to make me forget I’m a gentleman?"

"Is it working?"

"A little too well."

"Good."

She slithered her hand down the center of his torso, loosening a few buttons along the way. When her fingers slid across his warm skin, Maxwell’s hand flew to his chest.

"Fran, we agreed. We can’t. Not while the children are here."

"Who said we were?"

"But you were – "

"Enjoying touching and caressing the man I love. Kind of like you kissing me awake late last night."

Maxwell’s face flushed in embarrassment. He glanced down then looked at Fran with a sheepish grin.

"I wondered if you’d remember that."

"I thought it was just one of the many sexy dreams I had of you. I didn’t realize that you kissed me awake until I saw the garment bag hanging on my closet door and the two boxes sitting in my chair."

She paused and smiled at Maxwell. Cradling his cheek in her palm, Fran gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Everything’s gorgeous by the way. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you so much."

"I did have to do that and you’re more than welcome sweetheart." Maxwell pulled her arms off his shoulders. "I want to give you the last part of your present."

"Another gift? Maxwell, you’re going to spoil me."

"Why, because I’m showering the woman I love with presents?"

"You don’t have to buy me things to show or prove your love for me."

"I know I don’t. Fran, I want to do this. I enjoy indulging you." Taking her hand, he laid a soft kiss across the back of her fingers. "I hope you like it."

She followed his gaze across the room. Her eyes widened at the large bouquet placed at the center of the small table. Fran let her hand drift from his and walked toward the couch.

"Oh Maxwell. They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them before." She turned to face him. "You really shouldn’t have."

"Yes I should have. You deserve all this and so much more."

"Thank you Max."

He chuckled then folded her in his embrace. "You’re welcome darling." Wiping the stray tears that began to fall from her eyes, Maxwell kissed the tip of her nose. "Aren’t you going to read the card?"

"There’s a card?"

"There’s always a card Fran."

She brushed the remnants of her tears away and searched through the flowers until she found the card. Plucking the card from its envelope, Fran’s eyes scanned the cursive script written across the center.

"Again, you will note that this is in my own writing."

Dresses are red, flowers are blue; you are every dream come true.

Fran looked into his bright green eyes. "Do you mean it Max?"

"Of course I mean it." He turned her fully toward him and pulled her in his arms. "You are absolutely every dream I’ve ever had come true."

"Even if I’ve caused the occasional nightmare?"

Maxwell looked at Fran, unsure of how to take her comment. When he saw her wink then watched the corners of her mouth curve into a grin, he relaxed and returned her smile.

"The only nightmare you could ever cause is leaving me to live an embittered life a sad and broken man."

"Maxwell, you are everything I’ve ever hoped for. I love you."

"I love you too Fran."

He took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. Settling in the corner of the love seat, Maxwell pulled Fran into his arms and kissed her cheek.

"I originally planned to give you all of your gifts at one time."

"What changed your mind?"

"You did actually."

Fran turned in his arms. "I don’t understand."

"Yesterday I was sitting here thinking about how much our relationship has changed within the last month. I remembered our first shared meal together. And what nearly happened later on that night.

When I realized that evening was our first unofficial date, it dawned on me just how inadequate our other dates have been. And then I heard your voice."

"My voice?"

"Yes. Do you remember the day of our picnic? When you told me that you and Mr. Abrams had been discussing our relationship and he told you that we had been dating?"

"Yes I remember that."

"And do you remember what you said to me?"

"Of course. I told you that I appreciated your originality but I wished you told me we were dating."

"And you were right. How I went about our courtship was…unique but it wasn’t worthy of you."

"Max, I didn’t have a problem with our dates. The only problem I had was that you kept it secret from me."

"Exactly. You deserve to be romanced properly."

Fran slid to the other side of the couch to face him. "And who says I wasn’t?"

"I do."

"Maxwell – "

"Hear me out Fran."

Maxwell rose from the sofa and began to pace the straight between the love seat and his desk.

"I thought Sara would be the only woman I’d ever love. It’s no secret when she died, part of me died with her. Then you swept into my life and turned my world upside down. I didn’t know how to respond to you. Part of me couldn’t deny my attraction to you yet another part of me felt shame for thinking of you in less than platonic terms.

It took me a while to realize that I had fallen in love with you. I couldn’t allow myself to indulge in those feelings and by doing that I hurt you by pushing you away.

I risked losing you because I didn’t want to face my fears. I’ve wasted two years of our lives together instead of giving into what I felt for you and letting it develop the way it should."

She slid her fingers across his cheeks and held his face in her hands. Holding his steady gaze, Fran spoke in soft measured tones.

"You made up for hurting me when you finally admitted you loved me. The past doesn’t matter any more. The only thing that matters is that we love each other and that we’re together."

"Exactly. And for that reason, you deserve a proper date. I don’t want you to look back on our lives and wonder what it would have been like if we had dated like a normal couple."

Fran threw her head back and laughed. Her soft nasally chuckle filled the room.

"Maxwell, there has never been anything normal about us. The way we met was unusual, the way we became friends was unusual, and the way we fell in love was unusual. Why should our dating follow a typical pattern?"

"I know we went the roundabout way of entering a relationship. This is the one thing that I’d like to be somewhat normal. Would you grant me the honor and privilege of escorting you to the Rainbow Room for dinner and dancing?"

"When?"

"I could always make reservations for Friday or Saturday."

"As long as it’s not on Wednesday."

"Why?"

"Wednesday is Hanukkah and Christmas Eve Max."

He drew back in shock. "Hanukkah and Christmas Eve are on the same day this year?"

"It surprised me too."

"I meant to ask you when Hanukkah was this year. Are we going to your mother’s or is she coming here?"

"You want to celebrate Hanukkah with us?"

"Of course darling. We celebrated the holidays with your family last year so I don’t see the point of not doing it this year. Besides, I know how important it is to you."

"How are we going to do this?"

"Do what?"

"I want to be at my mother’s for Hanukkah but I know you and the kids go to church on Christmas Eve. How are we going to do both?"

"Sweetheart, it’s not a problem. We can go to your mother’s then go to midnight mass."

"Really?"

"Really."

Fran laced their fingers together. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips across his mouth.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Yes but would you mind showing me an example?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Sliding across the love seat, Fran slithered her arms around his neck. Raking her fingers through his hair, she watched his eyes close in anticipation of her kiss.

Fran’s tongue crept across Maxwell’s parted lips, seeking her counterpart. He slid his arm pass the curve of her waist, drawing her body into his.

"I love you Fran."

"I love you too Max."

He bent his head, his lips following the curve of her neck. Fran’s moan reverberated against his mouth as he kissed the column of her throat. Tracing the slit of her lips, Maxwell pushed his tongue across her mouth and captured her in a consuming kiss.

Fran responded to him, furling her tongue around his when a gentle tapping on the door prevented them from going any further.

"Bloody hell, can’t we get some privacy?"

"Afraid not sweetie. We live in a very busy household."

They heard another round of light rapping followed by the sound of Niles’ voice.

"Mr. Sheffield?"

"Just a moment."

Slipping out of her embrace, Maxwell ran the back of his fingers across her cheek. He met her mouth in a quick peck, and with a heavy sigh, he called out to his butler.

"Yes Niles, what is it?"

Niles peered around the door then stepped fully into Maxwell’s office.

"I’m sorry to interrupt. Ms. Fine, your mother is on the phone. She says she needs to speak with you regarding the family’s plans for Hanukkah."

"What does she have, radar?" she murmured under her breath.

"Excuse me Ms. Fine?"

"Nothing. Thanks Niles."

Fran waited until Niles closed the door. She crossed the room and took her usual space on the edge of Maxwell’s desk. Taking a deep breath, Fran picked up the phone and pressed the talk button.

"What do you want ma?"

Crossing her legs, she plucked an emery board from the cup holder. Fran absently listened to her mother, throwing in the occasional ‘uh huh’ when needed.

"Ma...Ma…Ma, genug already! I’ll be over in twenty minutes!"

Fran hung up the cordless phone and dropped it on Maxwell’s desk in frustration.

"Fran!"

"What?"

"You dropped the phone! On my desk!"

"Sorry sweetie. Ma’s just such a pain in my tuchas sometimes!"

"Darling, that’s her job. It’s the job of every parent to be a pain in the tuchas to their children."

"Yeah, but does she have to excel at it?"

Crossing the room, Maxwell pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead.

"What’s the matter?"

"She wants me to come over and clean the menorah."

"What’s wrong with that?"

"Ma always cleaned and polished the menorah. It was a wedding present from Yetta’s mother-in-law to Yetta on her wedding day. My mother never let me or Nadine near that menorah, much less breathe on it!"

"Maybe she has something else to do and won’t have time to clean it herself. I mean think about it Fran. Your mother’s getting older. She may need your help doing a few things around the apartment."

"I know my mother Max. There’s another reason why she wants me to come over. I just don’t know what it could be."

"You’d better get going sweetheart. The sooner you leave, the quicker you’ll return."

Sliding her arms around his neck, Fran drew him into a gentle kiss.

"I knew there was a reason I liked having you around."

"You know," he replied trailing his fingertip across her collarbone, "I am multifunctional."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that."

"Shall I demonstrate some of my…talents?"

"I’ll never get to my mother’s if you do." She tilted her head to one side. Her eyes drifted across his body, admiring him with an appreciative glance. "Hmm, that may not be such a bad idea. What do you have in mind?"

Maxwell threaded his arms beneath hers and laid his palms flat on the cool surface of his desk. A wanton fire brightened as his olive green gaze pierced her dark brown eyes. He lowered his eyes to her mouth, watching her lips part in a breathless gasp.

An erotic shiver coursed through Fran’s body. The ardent desire reflected in his eyes drew her into a hot dark surrender. A shallow pant spilled from her mouth when his lips met the soft skin of her throat.

Her eyes drifted shut, closing under the weight of her need for him. Fran’s thoughts wafted into an illicit terrain, imaging his hands and lips leaving a trail of heat across her body. A soft moan sputtered from her throat. Her fingers skimmed across his arms, rumpling the soft ivory sweater he wore.

Maxwell’s hot opened mouth trailed across Fran’s arched neck. He stopped for a moment and breathed in the scent of her perfume dabbed behind her ear. The deliciously soft fragrance spurred him on to explore more of her slender frame. The timbre of his husky voice convulsed through her body.

"I want you."

The knuckle of his right hand brushed her inner thigh, caressing her with feather soft strokes. He pulled his mouth from her neck and studied Fran. Maxwell felt the warmth of her shallow breath across his lips.

With her head dropped to her shoulders, his eyes traced the curve of her graceful neck. Her smooth delicate skin enticed him. Maxwell passed his tongue across his lips, anticipating another taste of her.

She clenched her eyes. Biting the edge of her lip, she waited for his lips to dance across her skin. Fran opened her eyes, ensnared by the intensity of his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat, surprised by the swiftness and fervency of his kiss.

Fran felt Maxwell’s hand slide beneath her skirt. Having his hands and mouth stroke her body overloaded her senses. She felt her body descend toward the surface of the desk. Her self-control weakened as wanton desire flourished in her soul.

The memory of a completely occupied house unexpectedly surfaced in her mind. As much as she wanted him, Fran knew they had to stop.

"Max? Max?" He swallowed trying to focus on her through a fog of carnality. His breath, ragged and strained filled the room. "Maxwell, we can’t. We’re not alone. Remember?"

Maxwell closed his eyes and drew in a regretful breath. Blowing out a soft sigh, he opened his eyes. Nodding in concession, he stood up and took a step back. Watching her slide off the edge of his desk, he pushed his fingers through his hair.

"Perhaps it’s a good thing you’re going to your mother’s. The last thing we need is for Niles or one of the children to walk into my office and find me ravishing you across the desktop."

"If we send them away, are you willing to make good on that suggestion?"

His voice was seductive tinged with a hint of caution. "Fran."

"Okay, okay. I get your point." Straightening her clothes, she kissed him on the cheek and headed toward the door. "Don’t forget you promised to take me on a real date."

"I’ll make the arrangements while you’re gone. Maybe it’ll help take my mind off of…other things."

"Maybe it will but I doubt it."

* * * * *

Fran sat on the couch skimming through the latest issue of Vogue. Her eyes briefly dropped to her watch then flipped to the next page. She twisted her neck when Maggie, Brighton, and Grace came thundering down the staircase.

Pulling her coat from the closet, Maggie asked, "What time is your mother expecting us Fran?"

"We’re supposed to be there before sundown," Brighton replied checking his reflection in the mirror.

"Is your name Fran?"

"Ma wanted us there before sundown but it’ll be okay if we’re a little late."

Maxwell pushed back his shirtsleeve to check the time as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Niles!"

"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"

"Is the car ready?"

"Outside and waiting."

"Brighton, make sure you get those bags from the closet."

Fran adjusted the scarf around Maxwell’s neck. "What bags?"

"Hanukkah presents for your parents."

"You remembered we exchange presents during Hanukkah?"

"Actually your mother called to remind me," he said helping Fran slip into her jacket, "Come on darling, we’d better get a move on. We’re already running behind schedule."

* * * * *

Sylvia smoothed her hands over her black and leopard trim skirt as she made her way across the living room. She paused before opening the door and said a silent prayer, hoping tonight, combined with the recent change in Fran and Maxwell’s relationship, would push them a few steps closer to the altar.

"Happy Hanukkah!"

"And Happy Hanukkah to you too," Sylvia said as Maxwell, Maggie, Niles, Grace, Brighton, and Fran filed into the apartment. "You made it just in time."

"Where do you want us to put our coats Sylvia?" Maxwell asked.

"Just put them in Fran’s old room."

Shrugging off her coat, Fran asked, "When did you call Max to remind him to buy gifts for Hanukkah?"

"About a week ago. I wanted to make sure he didn’t forget. Besides, Mr. Sheffield, Niles, and the kids are family."

Before Fran could respond, Maxwell, Niles, Grace, Brighton, and Maggie entered the living room.

"Fran, go tell your father dinner’s ready." Turning to the girls, Sylvia said, "Maggie, Gracie, would you be dears and help me set the table?"

"Sure Sylvia," Maggie replied.

Grace nodded her head in agreement. "Not a problem."

As Maggie put the place settings on the table, Grace and Sylvia carried the dishes to the living room. When Fran entered the kitchen, she heard her mother humming in tune with her father singing Maoz Tzur.

"Oy, I love hearing Morty sing."

"Hanukkah wouldn’t be the same without daddy’s singing."

Brighton pushed the swing door open and leaned in the kitchen.

"Sylvia, can we eat now? I’m starving."

Rolling her eyes, Maggie pushed pass Brighton to set the plate of latkes on the table.

"You’re always starving."

"Children, please! Show Morty and Sylvia the decorum and respect with which you were raised."

Brighton and Maggie glanced at each other then at their father. Lowering their eyes, they each muttered an apology.

"Sorry dad."

Sylvia nudged Fran with her elbow as they entered the living room.

"See how well the kids fit in? Like I said, they’re family."

"Genug already ma!"

"What did you prepare for dinner Sylvia?" Niles asked.

"Brisket, latkes with apple sauce and sour cream, and blintzes. Then a little later we’ll have kugel, rugelach, and sufganiyots."

"Sufaniyots?" Grace asked. "What are sufaniyots?"

"They’re jelly doughnuts sweetie," Fran said patting Grace on the cheek. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah. Those are great."

Rolling her eyes, Sylvia flicked her tongue over her lips. "Mmm, delicious."

Morty recited a brachah rishonah before dinner. As the meal progressed, Sylvia and Morty shared memories of past Hanukkah’s when Nadine and Fran were children with Maxwell, Niles, Maggie, Brighton, and Grace.

After dinner, Maxwell helped Fran and Sylvia clear the table and put dinner away. Watching them work together, a wide smile grew on Sylvia’s face.

"You know, when Morty and I were dating, we were together so often, people use to ask us how long were we married. And look at you two. Oy, you’re beautiful together darlings. I’m going to go see if Morty’s ready to light the menorah."

Staring at Sylvia exiting the kitchen, Maxwell turned toward Fran.

"What the devil was that about?"

"That was my mother dropping a subtle hint about us getting married."

Before he could respond, Sylvia yelled out, "Fran, Mr. Sheffield, we’re ready to light the menorah! Hurry up!"

"Was she being subtle then too?" Maxwell whispered as he pushed the door open.

He jumped slightly when she playfully popped him on the arm. Mirroring her smile, Maxwell followed Fran into the living room.

"Here Mr. Sheffield," Sylvia said handing him a yarmulke, "you’ll need this."

Taking his place beside his son, Maxwell placed the skullcap on his head, noting that Niles, Brighton and Morty had already donned their yarmulkes. Gathering around the dinette in the living room, Morty lit the Shamash candle then sung the blessings for the night.

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheynu Melech Ha-Olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav vitzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Chanukkah

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheynu Melech Ha-Olam, sheh-asah nissim l’avoteynu ba-yamim ha-haym baz’man hazeh.

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheynu Melech Ha-Olam, sheh-heh-chi-yanu v’key’manu v’hee-gee-anu laz’man ha-zeh.

After he finished the blessings, Morty lit the first candle then recited the Haneirot Halalu prayer.

Haneirot halalu anachnu madlikin Al hanissim ve'al haniflaot Al hatshu-ot ve'al hamilchamot She-asita la'avoteynu Bayamim hahem, bazman hazeh Al yedey kohanecha hakdoshim.

Vechol shmonat yemey Chanukah Hanerot halalu kodesh hem, Ve-ein lanu reshut lehishtamesh bahem Ela lirotam bilvad Kedai lehodot u'lehalel leshimcha hagadol Al nissecha veal nifleotecha ve-al yeshuotecha.

Maxwell, Niles, Brighton, Grace, and Maggie stared into the flickering candlelight, absorbing the beauty of the prayers. A sense of reflective calm enveloped them, each lost in their private thoughts.

Fran nudged Brighton lightly with her elbow. "B, take the menorah and place it in the window."

"Be careful with that Brighton."

"I will dad," he replied setting the candelabra on the windowsill.

Sylvia left the room and returned a short time later carrying a shopping bag in each hand. Rattling each bag, she stood in the center of the living room.

"Time to open presents!"

"Ma, where’s Yetta? I thought she was coming over."

"When I called her at the home, she told me to leave her alone because she was in the middle of a hot streak."

"Oh, you mean playing mah-jongg?"

"You wish mah-jongg."

The living room filled with the mingled sounds of delighted squeals and high-spirited laughter. Shreds of blue and white wrapping paper decorated the floor like confetti as each person tore into their present.

"What a cool bracelet!" Maggie said fastening the multicolored ornamental chain. "Thank you so much!"

"It’s not only decorative," replied Sylvia, "it’s suppose to ward off the evil eye. Oh before I forget, I put a few chocolate gelt with all of your gifts."

Securing his watch around his wrist, Brighton tapped the acrylic face.

"Thanks for the watch."

"Morty thought you’d like it," Sylvia said. "The numbers are in Hebrew."

"Look daddy! Sylvia gave me a matryushka draydel!"

"Yes I see Grace," he said picking up the nesting dolls. Returning the draydel to his daughter, Maxwell said, "Sylvia, they’re absolutely beautiful. Where ever did you find it?"

"Let’s just say they came from a friend who owes me a favor or two." Turning to Brighton, she said, "Bring me that other shopping bag. Fran, Niles, and your father haven’t opened their presents yet."

"Sylvia, you didn’t have to get us anything," Maxwell said.

"Speak for yourself sir."

Maxwell shot a warning glare at his butler. Feeling the sudden need to escape his employer’s wrath, Niles excused himself and left the room.

"Nonsense. Mr. Sheffield, you, Niles, and the kids are mishpocha. I want to thank you for the lovely gifts you’ve given Morty and me. He’s wanted a new tallit for a while now. I have to tell you, that the wood challah board and knife are just gorgeous. And that coffee cake? Hoo-ha! I can’t wait to slice into it."

Sylvia licked her lips at the thought of the chocolate chocolate chip walnut cake.

"How did you know what to get me?"

Patting her hand, Maxwell smiled and replied, "Lucky guess."

Sylvia took the bag from Brighton. Digging through the tissue paper, she took out a box, passed one to Maxwell then handed the other to Fran.

"Where’s Niles?"

Fran peered into the kitchen and replied, "Shoving a jelly doughnut in his mouth."

"Why is everyone picking on me tonight?" he asked entering the living room. "What did I do?"

Sylvia’s eyes dropped to Niles’ empty hands. "You didn’t bring them with you?"

"I’ll go get them."

"What are you two waiting for? Open your gift!"

Tearing into their boxes, Fran and Maxwell each pulled out a silver-plated heart shaped cup.

"Sylvia, the cup is very nice. Thank you."

"Put them together."

"Put them together?" Fran asked.

"Oy, do I have to do everything? Put your cup and Mr. Sheffield’s cup together."

They looked at each other. Setting the cups on the table, Fran and Maxwell pushed the two halves together.

"That’s a very unique cup Sylvia. Two separate cups uniting to become one."

"So, Mr. Sheffield, does it give you any ideas?"

"Ma!"

"What? There’s no harm in asking."

"Who wants a doughnut?" Niles asked as he reentered the living room.

"Thank God," Fran blew out. "That should keep her quite for a good minute."

Reaching for a doughnut, Sylvia said, "Niles! You haven’t opened your present."

"How could I? You sent me in the kitchen to get the doughnuts." Breaking open the box, he pulled out two frosted glass cruets. "Why aren’t I surprised this is food related?" he muttered. Smiling, Niles said, "Thank you Sylvia, you really shouldn’t have."

"When I saw them, I thought you’d like them. You can fill them with different dressings so the next time we come over for dinner you can fix one of your delicious salads."

"Oh joy."

Maxwell and Fran sat on the couch staring at the flickering flames of the menorah. Their attention shifted as Sylvia, Morty, Brighton, Grace, Maggie, and Niles played the dreidel game.

Kissing her temple, Maxwell said, "There is one other gift."

"There is?"

"Yes."

He pulled out a square black velvet box and handed it to Fran. She drew in a sharp gasp of breath as she shook the lid off. Inside laid a silver-hinged bangle bracelet inscribed in both Hebrew and English that read "I am my beloved’s: my beloved is mine."

"Oh Maxwell. It’s beautiful. Thank you." She leaned over and left a gentle peck on his lips. "I got you something too."

"Fran, you didn’t have to."

"I know. I wanted to." Watching him open his gift, she said, "You know, you’re not the easiest person to shop for mister!"

He pulled out a crystal sculpture. Maxwell looked at the object in his hand, amazed how the images inside the sculpture changed each time he turned it.

"Sweetheart?"

"It’s a Jewish symbols prism made from lead crystal. When you turn it on each side you see something different: a Kiddush cup, a menorah, and a Star of David." Fran shrugged her shoulders then continued. "I thought it would look nice in your office."

"I’m putting this on my desk. Thank you Fran."

As they leaned in for another kiss, Sylvia blew out a contented sigh. Clasping her hands together, her face broke into a wide grin.

"Isn’t love grand? Mazel tov darlings!"

* * * * *

Maxwell leaned back in his chair, rolling the ballpoint pen between his fingers. Although he stared at the writing implement in his hand, his mind was elsewhere. The past few days were a blur: spending the first night of Hanukkah at Morty and Sylvia’s then off to midnight mass.

A light smile danced across his face, remembering the delighted squeals and shocked appreciation from Fran, Maggie, Brighton, Grace, and Niles as they opened their gifts on Christmas morning. His smile widened, slowly morphing into a wicked grin.

As much as I enjoyed spending time with my family and watching them open their presents, I was completely enraptured of the time I spent alone with Fran when we exchanged our gifts.

His eyes fell to the engraved side of the pen he held in his hand. The light from the lamp on his desk bounced off the gold plate. Maxwell closed his eyes as their conversation reverberated in his mind.

"I know it’s not much but when I saw it, I thought of you."

"Darling, it’s perfect. Thank you," he replied kissing her cheek. "What made you think of me?"

"Actually it reminded me of your eyes."

He glanced down at the emerald green pen held in his hand then looked at Fran.

"I’m not following you sweetheart."

"You have a hint of gold reflected in your eyes when you’re happy." Ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck, she said, "Of course I prefer your eyes when they turn dark green."

"Oh?" he replied arching his eyebrow. "When does that happen?"

Fran brushed her lips across his, teasing him with a gentle caress. When an impatient growl rose from his throat, she chuckled then took his mouth in a sensuous kiss.

"When you’re turned on," she whispered breaking their kiss.

Bringing his mouth against her lips, Maxwell replied, "Then my eyes must stay that color whenever you’re around."

"I guess they do. To be completely honest, I’m not always looking at your eyes."

"Then what are you looking at when you’re looking at me?"

"I’m usually focused on what a fabulous kisser you are but if you want me to look at your eyes instead, I can do that."

"Don’t change on my account. I wouldn’t want to…break your concentration."

Fran leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled, brushing her lipstick from his mouth with her thumb.

"Have I thanked you for my gift?"

Maxwell nodded, fingering the diamond and ruby open-heart necklace at the hollow of her throat.

"However, I wouldn’t object to you thanking me again."

"You must be reading my mind," Fran replied as their mouths drifted toward each other.

A gentle tap on the door shook him from recalling how their tender kiss melded into one of passion. Clearing his thoughts with a mental shake, Maxwell looked up to see Niles standing in the threshold of his office.

"Is it five thirty already?"

"Yes sir. Will you need anything else?"

"Would you make sure Geoffrey is in front of the house when we’re ready to leave for the Rainbow Room?"

"Of course Mr. Sheffield. I hope you and Ms. Fine have a wonderful evening."

"Thank you Niles."

* * * * *

Maxwell stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the red and black striped tie when a flash of red caught his attention. Shifting his eyes to the upper right corner of the mirror, his smile grew wider as Fran descended the staircase.

"My god Fran. You look…" He turned fully around and walked to the base of the stairs. "You look absolutely spectacular in that dress."

Fran paused before reaching the landing. Resting her hand on the banister, she let his eyes admire how the red beaded halter dress clung to every curve of her body.

"You did a wonderful job of selecting clothes for me. Thank you Max."

"You are more than welcome Fran." Maxwell reached over and kissed her cheek then offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

"We most certainly shall," Fran replied slipping her arm in the crook of his elbow.

* * * * *

Fran peered out the window, seduced by the beauty of the stars glimmering against the pitch-black heavens as the limousine rolled silently through the streets of Manhattan. In spite of the slight chill in the air, it was a beautiful Saturday evening. She sat back in her seat, enjoying the soft blur of the city lights.

It took all of Maxwell’s reserve not to slide across the seat and pull Fran into his arms. His eyes drifted appreciatively along her lithe frame, mesmerized by her beauty. The moments were rare that he could study the woman sitting next to him without fear of interrogation.

From her hair elegantly piled atop her head down to the red high-heeled sandals, her beauty left him awestruck.

"Have I told you how absolutely lovely you look tonight?"

"I seem to recall you mentioning how spectacular I look," she replied with a mischievous grin, "but I wouldn’t object to hearing it again."

"Spectacular and lovely don’t begin to justly describe how you look in that dress. I think this dress tops that sequined gown you wore to the backer’s party when you first came to work for me."

"Ah yes. I remember that night very well."

"I was quite taken with you that night."

"You were?"

Maxwell nodded, lacing their fingers together. "I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, much to CC’s chagrin."

"Why do you say that?"

"I’m not sure if it was the comment I made or the way I looked at you. Perhaps it was both. Regardless, she was none too pleased with me. At least until the backers started handing us checks."

A bittersweet smile crossed Fran’s face as she recalled that evening. Her eyes flicked toward Maxwell when she felt his fingers caress her cheek.

Watching her break his gaze, Maxwell wondered what was bothering Fran. He tipped her face toward him, waiting for her eyes to meet his.

"What’s wrong sweetheart?"

"I was thinking about that evening. Everything was going well until you fired me. Why did you fire me? It had to be more than catching Maggie kissing Eddie on the terrace."

"I never met anyone like you before. I wasn’t use to having my authority as a parent usurped. Do you know how vexing it is to be attracted to someone who can stir up both feelings of anger and passion within the same breath?"

"Then why did you ask me back?"

"Of the string of nannies I hired, not one of them had an instant connection to the children as you did. Their loyalty to you left me in complete awe."

"You were the last person I ever expected to see again."

"I know. Under different circumstances, I never would have gone after you but I couldn’t lose the woman that my children had such reverence for." Maxwell raised her arm and laid a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "There are no words to describe how pleased I am that you agreed to come back. My life would be very different today if you hadn’t."

Breathing in the enticing scent of his cologne, Fran placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and snuggled against his chest.

"I take it you made reservations for the Rainbow Room?"

"Yes. I wanted to give my favorite girl the night of her life."

"And then we’re going to the Rainbow Room?" she asked throwing him a quick wink.

He laughed, pulling Fran into his arms. Locking her firmly in his embrace, Maxwell leaned over and met her mouth in a quick kiss.

"Fran you’re incorrigible."

"You want me to change?"

"Absolutely not. As the song says, I love you just the way you are."

* * * * *

The hostess looked up as Fran and Maxwell stepped off the elevator and made their way to the entrance of the restaurant. Gathering the menus together, she greeted them with a bright smile.

"Good evening Mr. Sheffield. Please follow me."

They followed the young woman across the room, threading their way between the tables. Seating them at a table facing Central Park North, the hostess waited until Maxwell held out the chair for Fran then took his own seat before setting the menus on the table.

"Your waiter will be with you momentarily. Enjoy your evening."

Maxwell stole a quick glance at Fran. An idea formed in his head as he watched her eyes flick over the menu.

"Fran, do you love me?"

"Of course I love you."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Arching her eyebrow, she tilted her head to the side. "What are you up to Max?"

"May I order for you?"

"What?"

"May I order for you?"

"What is this, a test to see how well you know me?"

With an impish grin, he replied, "I think I’ve known you long enough to know what you’d like."

"Okay mister, you’re on. I’d like to see how well you really know me."

The waiter appeared at the edge of their table. Introducing himself, he stood poised ready to take their order.

"For an appetizer, we’ll have the Caspian Sea Osetra Caviar. For the first course, the lady will have the Jumbo Shrimp Cocktail and for the second course, she’ll have the Double Lamb Chops with Herb Flavored Olive Oil.

I’ll have the Pate de Foie Gras with Pear and Port Wine essence followed by the Beef Tenderloin with Béarnaise and Black Truffle Sauce."

"And to drink?"

"A bottle of Veuve Clicquot, nineteen eighty nine."

"Very good sir. I’ll be back with your appetizer."

When they were alone once more, Fran flashed Maxwell a broad smile. She sat back in her chair and put her hands together in a light applause.

"Well done Mr. Sheffield."

"Thank you, thank you. I accept all manners of gratitude."

"Just one question. How do you know I didn’t want the lobster?"

"To be honest, I had considered it," he replied skimming his eyes over her suggestively, "but then I figured you wanted something you could really sink your teeth into."

She fanned herself with her hand. "Did it suddenly get hot in here or what?"

Before Maxwell could respond, the waiter stopped at their table and set a dish of caviar, toast points, and smoked salmon on the table accompanied with frozen vodka.

"I’d like to propose a toast." Raising her shot glass, Fran said, "To a wonderful evening with fabulous company."

He tapped the edge of her glass with his. "To a magnificent woman, who is not only beautiful but was gracious enough to allow me the privilege of sharing this evening with her."

Their eyes joined over the rim of the glass as they sipped the vodka. They took turns feeding each other appetizers until they heard the sound of a discreet cough. Pulling apart, they paused as the waiter removed the hors d'oeuvres from the table. He set the first course in front of them then disappeared.

As their dinner progressed, Fran took in the sprawling beauty of the room. The draperies and paneling, decorated in brilliant tones of gold and silver, enhanced the furnishings of the ballroom. Setting her fork down, Fran watched the couples dancing on the revolving floor.

Maxwell watched Fran with a curious eye. Although they conversed throughout dinner, she didn’t display her usual bubbly demeanor.

I wonder what could be troubling her, he wondered watching her pop a sliver of lamb chop in her mouth. I’ll bring it up later.

"It’s beautiful isn’t it?"

She turned at the soft sound of Maxwell’s question "What?"

"The Rainbow Room. It has a certain…" Maxwell let his thoughts drift. His mind searched for a word to aptly describe the historic landmark.

"Magic?"

"Yes. There is something magical about the Rainbow Room."

"The view of Manhattan is absolutely amazing."

They finished dinner in silence, ignoring the buzz of conversation that swelled around them. Pressing the napkin to his lips, Maxwell signaled the waiter.

Removing their plates, he asked, "Would either of you care for dessert?"

Fran eyed Maxwell. Dotting the corners of her mouth, she leaned forward and folded her hands on the table.

"Since you ordered dinner for me, mind telling me what I’d like for dessert?"

"May I have the menu again?"

"That’s not necessary sir. For dessert, you have the option of Baked Alaska, Hot Chocolate Soufflé with Mascarpone Cream, Vanilla Filled Crêpes with Fresh Berries or our selection of home made ice creams and sorbets."

A faint smile crossed Fran’s face as she watched him mull through the choices for dessert.

"The lady will have the Hot Chocolate Soufflé with Mascarpone Cream and I’ll have a snifter of Cognac VSOP."

"I’ll be back with the lady’s dessert and your cognac."

When the waiter was out of earshot, Fran folded her arms across her chest.

"You think you’re so smart, don’t you."

"I’m very smart when it comes to you."

"Good answer."

Maxwell looked at Fran, watching her lips quiver as she tried to hold back her laughter.

"Do you know how lovely you are when you smile?"

Fran’s eyes dropped. A slight blush colored her face. "You certainly are in full flirt mode tonight, aren’t you?"

Before Maxwell could reply, the waiter set the brandy and dessert before them on the table.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No thank you," Maxwell replied, "not at the moment."

He swirled the cognac in his hand, warming the amber liquor. Taking a sip, Maxwell watched in detached amusement as Fran consumed tiny bites of the soufflé.

Fran closed her eyes. A hum of pleasure escaped her throat when she finished devouring the last of her dessert. Opening her eyes, she found Maxwell staring at her, bearing a crossed look of merriment and desire.

"Did you enjoy your dessert darling?"

"Immensely."

Maxwell sipped the last of his cognac as the final notes of Stardust blended with the gentle applause of the audience. When the orchestra began its rendition of Moonlight Serenade, Maxwell stretched his hand across the table to Fran.

"Darling, would you care to dance?"

"I’d love to."

Fran rose from the table, sliding her hand into his. Resting his fingers at the small of her back, the warmth of Maxwell’s hand spread across her skin as they took the dance floor.

"Are you having a good time tonight?"

"Yes."

"This is better than our other dates."

"Do you really think so?"

"Maybe not better. This is more of what I had in mind for the two of us."

"Not that tonight isn’t special but I loved our other dates."

"Really?"

"Yes. Those dates weren’t typical dates, at least not anything I ever experienced. That’s what I love about them."

Maxwell traced the indentation of Fran’s spine, strumming his fingertips across her soft skin. Burying his nose in her upswept hair, he inhaled the blended scent of lavender and rosemary.

"You’re awfully quiet tonight sweetheart."

"Am I?"

"Yes." She pulled slightly from his embrace and met his piercing gaze. "You haven’t been your usual effervescent, charming self all evening. Do you want to talk about it?"

Fran stared at him for a moment as the question weighed in her mind. Part of her thought that her fears were trivial but her unyielding curiosity spurred her decision. She nodded then looked up to meet his eyes again.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Yes."

As they made their way from the dance floor, Maxwell caught their waiter’s attention and asked for the bill.

"I’ll be right back. I’m going to the ladies room to freshen up."

He kissed her cheek and watched her until she disappeared from his line of sight. His thoughts of her were broken when the waiter set the bill holder on the table. Skimming through his wallet, Maxwell plucked out a credit card and handed the holder back to the waiter.

The waiter returned a few minutes later, handing the bill holder back to Maxwell with the tab tucked inside. As he scrawled his name across the receipt, he noticed Fran approaching the table. Thanking their server, he flashed a quick smile toward Fran.

"Are you ready to go sweetheart?"

"Yes."

They linked their arms together and exited the restaurant. Stepping into the elevator, Maxwell tapped the button for the ground floor and waited for the car to begin its descent.

* * * * *

He held his silence as they strolled leisurely around Rockefeller Center. Maxwell waited, hoping she would confess her concerns to him without him prompting her. Just as they came full circle, Fran’s soft voice broke the quiet spell that surrounded them.

"I worry sometimes."

"About what?"

"About whether I’m good enough for you."

Maxwell stopped walking and turned toward Fran. "Where is this coming from?"

"It’s something I’ve thought of off and on for the last two years. I know I’m nothing like Sara and I never will be."

"What do you mean?"

Fran sighed then looked at Maxwell. "I’m never going to be as smart and as cultured as Sara. And knowing this makes me wonder about our future."

"First of all, you and Sara share a great deal of common qualities."

"Like?"

"A strong will and a sharp wit. Both you and Sara have a loving, caring, personality. You’re thoughtful, devoted, and empathetic toward others. Shall I go on?"

"Please."

"You have great instincts about people, about me as did Sara. She didn’t allow me to get away with letting my work consume me." He paused, tracing her jaw with his finger. "Darling don’t you realize that not having academic knowledge doesn’t mean you’re not an intelligent woman?"

"By whose terms Max? Let’s face it, we’re physically attracted to one another but that’s not enough to make a relationship work. You need someone that shares common interests. Someone you can talk to about different things like literature and art and all that other fancy stuff that you know."

"Fran, you have the kind of intelligence that most people envy. Common sense is solid and real, more than learned information. And you’re wrong. We have many common interests. We’ve had five years to get to know each other and each day that we’re together, our commonality will only serve to strengthen our bond."

"But what if that’s not enough? What if after five years of working together and being friends still isn’t enough to keep us together? Then what? I don’t want to lose you Max."

"You’re not going to lose me."

"How do you know? How do you know that you won’t wake up one day and wonder why you’re with me? Wonder what you saw in me in the first place?"

"Fran – "

"They’re legitimate questions Max. You yourself had doubts about us. Isn’t that part of the reason why you took back saying that you loved me?"

The silence blossomed between them as Maxwell stared at Fran. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. Closing his eyes, Maxwell had to reign in his disjointed thoughts. He opened his eyes, reached for her hand, and laced their fingers together.

"There were a number of reasons why I took back saying that I loved you. Most of those reasons had to do with fear." He shook his head. "I was confronted with my biggest fear the day you left me on the ferry. I’ve already lost one woman I loved. I couldn’t face losing you too. Fran you mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to me too Max. But you can’t deny that our differences will come between us. It has in the past; it will again in the future."

He released her hand. Folding his arms across his chest, Maxwell said, "All right Fran. You want to lay our differences out in black and white. To see why we wouldn’t be compatible?"

"Yes."

"On paper, you are educationally and financially beneath me. Your family doesn’t have the position that mine has and as my mother has so often and vehemently pointed out, classes don’t mix. Entering into a relationship with you would be suicide to my family’s status."

Fran shrank back, her lips quivering at the harshness of his words. She curled her nails into her palm, willing herself not to cry.

"And you know what?" He watched Fran slowly shake her head, a myriad of emotions dancing in her eyes. "If I cared about any of those things, how I feel about you wouldn’t matter."

Grasping her by her upper arms, Maxwell pulled Fran toward him. "I love the generosity of your heart. I love the sweetness of your demeanor. I love the fact that you don’t give up what you want without a fight. Your passion, your zeal for everything in life tempers my stoic personality. I love you Fran. I need you desperately in my life."

A track of tears spilled from her eyes. Brushing the wet trail from her cheek, Maxwell cupped her jaw.

"Fran, let me ask you a question. Do you love me?"

"Of course I love you."

"Do you doubt my love for you?"

"No."

"You trust me don’t you?"

"Yes. But Max – "

"Fran, if you love and trust me, then you have to believe that our friendship and love will be enough to sustain our relationship."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Absolutely because I believe in us."

Her face broke into a radiant smile. Slipping her arms around his neck, Fran drew his head down to meet her mouth in a light kiss. Her fingers splayed across his cheek, caressing the softness of his skin.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that."

Maxwell wrapped his arms around her, locking Fran in the warmth of his embrace. He gently swayed her, feeling the tension drain from her body.

"There’s no need to thank me darling," he said kissing her temple. "I’d do anything to allay your fears."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Fran, please believe me when I tell you that you are a strong intelligent woman. And I am privileged to have you in my life."

"I do Max. I don’t have to tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life."

Bringing her body fully into his, Maxwell bent toward her and met her lips in a soft caress. He pulled away then pressed his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss.

The need for air broke Fran from Maxwell’s embrace. She flashed him a warm contented smile before wrapping her arms around him and snuggling in the crook of his neck.

"Max?"

"Yes Fran?" He leaned back to look at the woman he held in his arms.

Leaving a gentle peck on his lips, Fran whispered, "Take me home."

* * * * *

Maxwell entered the house with his arm linked securely at Fran’s waist. Locking the door, he took her by the hand and led her up the staircase. They stepped quietly through the hallway, trying not to shatter the silence that shrouded the mansion.

Stopping outside her room, Fran smiled up at Maxwell as she leaned against her door.

"Do you want to come in for a night cap?"

"You are utterly charming Ms. Fine. You’re too much of a temptation but I’m going to have to decline your request."

"Can I ask why?"

"I’m afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"I’m afraid that my behavior will be less than gentlemanly toward you."

"And is that a bad thing Mr. Sheffield?"

"For right now I’d have to say yes." Taking her hand in his, Maxwell lifted her arm and pressed his lips to her fingers. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"I should be thanking you. I had a wonderful time tonight. Dinner, dancing, and a fabulous companion."

Fran slid her hands over his arms as he pulled her body to his. Maxwell nuzzled her mouth then captured her lips in an unhurried kiss. Their tender exchange ended, skimming the edge of frenetic abandon.

Maxwell stared at Fran for a brief moment then cradled her jaw in the palm of his hand. Caressing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss, he pulled from her embrace.

"Good night Fran."

"Good night Max."

* * * * *

Maxwell lay in bed, thinking of the tender kiss he shared with Fran before bidding her good night. Closing his eyes, he traced his mouth with his fingertips.

He smiled in the darkness at the memory of her pliant lips lingering against his. Shifting against the covers, Maxwell scrunched the pillow beneath his head.

Soon I’ll have the pleasure of discovering you, of uncovering the secret places where your scent changes while I trace every plane and curve of your body.

I relish the day when you lay beside me, cradled securely in my arms. You will be where you’ve always belonged my darling: with me forever.

With that final thought, Maxwell drifted peacefully off to sleep with dreams of Fran completing his future.

* * * * *

"Knock knock."

Maxwell looked up as Fran entered his office. He watched her glide toward him, admiring how the turquoise square neck sweater and green skirt she wore accentuated her curvaceous frame.

"Hello sweetheart. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she slid onto her usual spot on the edge of his desk.

"I just popped in to tell you that I’m going out but I’ll be back before we go to ma’s."

"Where are you going?"

"A shop and nosh session with Val. She’s depressed and needs to talk."

"Oh? What is she depressed about?"

"I think the better question is what isn’t she depressed about."

Maxwell nodded his head in comprehension. " Ah, I see."

"You don’t mind do you sweetie?"

"Of course not. Are you taking the town car or the limo?"

"Neither. I’ll catch a cab or the subway."

"Wouldn’t you prefer taking one of the cars?"

"Max, I’ll be fine."

"Fran, I’d feel better if you took one the cars."

"I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"You thought you could take care of yourself three years ago and we saw how well that turned out."

Sliding off his desk, Fran stood before him with her hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she bent toward him.

"What exactly are you saying Max? That I’m so naïve of my surroundings that I need some kind of supervision to make sure nothing happens to me?"

"Fran I love you. I’m concerned for your safety. The only point I’m trying to make is that if you take the town car or the limo, you wouldn’t have to wait for a cab. You can avoid the crowds in the subway and after Val is dropped off, you will be delivered home safely."

"I understand and appreciate your concern Max but do you have to be so condescending?"

"Am I?"

"Some times you come across that way. That dig you made about when I was mugged three years ago is a perfect example."

"I only used that as an example of why you should take one of the cars. I was not trying to be patronizing."

"And yet that’s how you came across."

"Darling, I don’t want to argue with you over something so trivial."

"I didn’t come in here to fight with you either. All I did was come in to let you know I was going out for a few hours. You’re the one who started all this mishegoss in the first place."

"I didn’t mean to upset you." Rising from his chair, Maxwell traced her cheek with the back of his hand. "I’m sorry sweetheart. Will you forgive me?"

Fran folded her arms across her chest, skeptically eyeing him. When he flashed a boyish smile, she felt her anger subside.

"The only reason I’ll forgive you is because I love you."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Well, you do have that adorable factor working in your favor."

"Thank goodness for small favors." Maxwell slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her body into his. "I do love you Fran. I didn’t – "

"You know what?" Fran said pressing her fingers to his mouth. "Sometimes you talk too much."

"Does this mean you have a plan for keeping me quiet?"

"Uh huh."

"And when are you going to…put your plan into action?"

"There’s no time like the present."

Sliding her hands over his arms, she locked her fingers at the base of his neck. Fran weaved her hand through his dark wavy tresses and pressed her mouth to his. Parting her lips, she flicked her tongue against the crease of his mouth.

Maxwell drew a slight breath, acquiescing to the gentle yet demanding tease of her kiss. He breathed out a soft moan as she threaded her tongue inside his mouth and curled it around his. Sliding his fingers beneath her sweater, his hand danced along the curve of her waist.

Their moans escalated within the confines of his office as he pulled her further into him. Their hands fervently roamed across each other’s body, matching the intensity of their kiss.

"I love you so much Fran."

"Oh Max…"

His hand began to skim the soft skin of her back when the door to his office suddenly swung open. A sharp gasp tore from her throat at the unexpected break in his tender assault of his lips trailing down the column of her throat.

"I’m sorry sir, Ms. Fine. I didn’t know you were…busy."

"What is it Niles?" Maxwell asked his voice laced in irritation.

"Ms. Toriello is here."

"Thanks Niles." Fran looked at Maxwell and blew out a soft sigh. "I’d better get going."

"All right sweetheart. Have fun."

Maxwell placed a quick peck on her lips. Giving her hand a light squeeze, he watched her start toward the door.

"Fran?"

"Yes Max?"

"You’re taking one of the cars aren’t you?"

She rolled her eyes. "We are not having this discussion again, are we?"

"It was never settled darling."

"I don’t want to get into another argument with you Max."

"So then it’s agreed? You’re taking one of the cars?"

"Yes Maxwell, I’m taking the town car. There. Are you happy?"

"Perfectly."

"I’ll see you later. Love you."

"I love you too Fran."

He sighed, watching her sexy saunter from his office. A smug grin crossed Maxwell’s face as he slid into his green leather chair.

"I knew she’d see things my way."

"Just remember," said Fran leaning on the doorjamb, meeting his surprised gaze, "you won the battle, not the war!"

* * * * *

Niles returned a short time after Fran and Val left for their shopping spree. He walked into Maxwell’s office carrying a tray with his afternoon tea.

"Ah, just the man I was looking for."

"You didn’t look very hard did you?"

"What was that Niles?"

"I said what did you need me to do?"

Maxwell pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses and set them on the desktop.

"I wanted to speak with you."

"If this is about earlier this afternoon, one of you should have locked the door."

"I wasn’t going to bring that up but now that you mentioned it, you should have bloody well knocked before you barged into my office."

"You weren’t?"

"No."

"Oops, my bad." Glancing at Maxwell, he asked, "I presume I’m fired again?"

He glared at his butler over the rim of his teacup. Taking a quick sip, Maxwell sat the cup in the saucer and folded his hands across the top of his desk.

"Do you know if the children are home?"

"I believe they are sir."

"Would you tell them I’d like to see them in my office immediately."

"Why, are you going to fire me in front of an audience?"

"Would you just go tell the children I’d like to see them please!"

* * * * *

Niles tapped on the door as he ushered Maggie, Brighton, and Grace into Maxwell’s office. He waited until his employer looked up to make his formal announcement.

"Delivering the children as instructed sir. Will there be anything else you require?"

"Yes. Stop behaving like a jackass and come in."

Niles glared at Maxwell as he stepped fully into the room. Closing the door behind him, he muttered, "This better be good. I’m missing my soaps."

Ignoring Niles’ remarks, Maxwell rose from his chair. He glanced at each member of his family then began to pace the floor.

"Dad," Brighton said folding his arms across his chest, "we’ve got things to do before we leave for Sylvia’s tonight. What do you want?"

"I didn’t know trolls had lives," Maggie replied.

"And I didn’t know stick figures could talk."

"Margaret, Brighton, will you please give the insults a rest until after I finish talking to you?"

Brighton shrugged his shoulders. "Wouldn’t you have to start talking to us first?"

"That’s enough of your smart-aleck behavior young man."

"Sorry dad."

"I was gathering my thoughts together before I was rudely interrupted. I wanted to discuss Fran’s future in our lives. And since she’s not here, this is the perfect opportunity to share my thoughts with you all."

"Where’s Fran?" Grace asked. "She will be home in time to leave with us tonight, won’t she?"

"Yes sweetheart, she’ll be back in plenty of time."

"Excuse me sir, you said discuss Fran’s future in our lives. What exactly are your thoughts about Ms. Fine?"

Maxwell began to pace the floor again. With each step, he could feel their eyes bore into him. Bracing his back, Maxwell turned and faced his expectant family.

"I know you all were happy when Fran and I became a couple. And since we’ve admitted our feelings for each other, our journey has been liberating. But I think the time has come where we both need a change. I wanted to run it by you before I approached Fran."

"You want to change the status of your relationship with Ms. Fine?" Niles asked cautiously.

"My relationship with Fran is going to change, yes."

"You’re dumping Fran aren’t you?" Maggie asked rising from the sofa.

Brighton looked at his sisters then to his father.

"It’s not true is it dad? You’re not breaking up with Fran are you?"

"How can you all think that? I love her dearly!"

"Then why do you sound so bloody ominous?" Niles asked.

Maxwell blew out an exasperated breath. "I am not going to break up with Fran. I want to ask her to be my wife."

Niles, Brighton, Grace, and Maggie stared open mouthed at Maxwell.

"What?" they asked in unison.

"I’m going to propose to Fran."

Maggie snapped out of her shocked stupor. "Oh my god! Daddy, that’s great! When?"

"I haven’t worked out all the details yet but I’m taking the family to a cabaret and I plan to propose to her after the show."

"What show are we going to see?" Grace asked.

"It’s a Christmas show. The details are still being worked out."

Brighton flashed a wide smile at his siblings. "How cool is that?"

"Very," Maggie replied. "Fran will be with us forever."

"Congratulations sir."

"Thank you. Now I’m telling you all this for several reasons. One, not only is the show a surprise but so is my proposal. I’ll be in and out of the house working on arrangements for both.

Keep everything said here today in the strictest of confidence. I don’t want Fran to get even a hint of what I’m planning. If Fran finds out anything before she’s suppose to, well let’s just say whoever’s responsible will not be very happy with me. Is that understood?"

Niles, Maggie, Grace, and Brighton looked at each other then back to Maxwell. They nodded in mutual agreement before verbally answering him.

"Utterly."

"Absolutely."

"Indubitably."

"Sure."

"Second, if something unusual happens on the night of the show, you cannot react to it."

Brighton arched an eyebrow. "Unusual?"

"Well, I was thinking," said Maxwell drawing light circles on the desk with his fingertip. "To keep everything a surprise as long as possible, I was um…I was thinking of blindfolding Fran until we reached the theatre."

"That’s…unique sir."

"I’ll say." Maggie folded her arms across her chest. "Won’t that throw her off?"

"I think that’s the point, right daddy?" Grace asked.

"Yes." Maxwell pushed back his shirtsleeve to check the time. "Fran will be home in a few hours. We’ll be leaving for Sylvia’s not long afterwards. May I suggest that you all go back to whatever you were doing before I called you into the office?"

As they began to file out the room, Maxwell sent out a final warning.

"Just remember: not one iota of an idea. If even the slightest hint of what I’m planning gets to Fran, someone will be extremely unhappy. Do I make my self clear?"

"Completely."

"Oh yeah."

"Positively."

"Crystal, sir."

* * * * *

Fran stood outside of Maxwell’s office, poised to knock on the door. Instead of announcing her presence with a light tap, she let her hand fall to her side. Fran leaned against the doorjamb and watched him for a few minutes.

With the telephone cradled against his shoulder, Maxwell gathered the contracts strewn across his desk and dropped the paperwork in his briefcase.

Completely absorbed in his conversation, he glanced toward the door then did a double take when he realized Fran was standing in the threshold of his office. As he motioned for her to enter, Maxwell quickly ended his phone call.

"Um sweetheart, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that you’re on your way to the theatre. What’s so important that you have to go down there when Sheffield/Babcock Productions is closed until next year?"

"Although Sheffield/Babcock Productions is on holiday, there are some loose ends that need to be tied up at the theatre."

"What kind of loose ends?"

"Paperwork. You know budgets, payrolls, lease agreements, things of that nature."

"And this couldn’t be handled over the phone?"

"Not every aspect of these details could be taken care of with a phone call."

"I still don’t understand why you can’t work from home? Or at least do some of your work from the house."

"Since CC’s on vacation, I have to take care of them myself. As much as I’d love to spend all my time with you, I have to make sure that Sheffield/Babcock Productions will be in tiptop shape so we can start the new production season on a clean slate."

Fran knew Maxwell’s responsibilities increased, especially after CC became ill. She wanted to be supportive but before she could curtail it, her words spilled out in a high-pitched wail.

"I understand that Max, really I do. It’s just that you seem to be spending less time at home during the day. If I don’t see you in the morning, the only time I see you is when you rush home in time to go to ma’s for Hanukkah. The last time we spent time alone was on our date Saturday night."

"I know you’re frustrated with me sweetheart but please have a little patience with me. This won’t be much longer. It’s just that all the pertinent information I need happens to be in my office at the theatre. It only makes sense for me to go there instead of bringing the records here only to take them back next year."

"I guess that does make sense," Fran replied with a slight pout.

Maxwell smiled as he pulled Fran by the waist with one arm. Crooking his finger beneath her chin, he tipped her face upward then gave her a soft peck on the lips.

"Darling, I’m not going to neglect you or the children. I’ll try to be home as soon as I can and not work late."

"Really?"

"I promise. And if for some reason, I’m running behind schedule, I’ll let you know."

Fran felt herself relenting. Sliding her arms around his neck, she met his mouth in a full kiss.

"Okay Max. Just remember your promise."

"You have my word."

* * * * *

Fran sat on the couch, curled in the crook of Maxwell’s arm. They settled in for the night, watching an old movie on television. The other occupants in the house had long gone to bed, leaving the couple alone.

He reached into the bowl resting on the coffee table and grabbed a few kernels of popcorn. Holding the treat to Fran’s lips, Maxwell watched her tongue dart from her mouth and draw in the buttery snack.

Her lips glistened under the soft glow from the television. Unable to resist the temptation, he cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her body into his, as their kiss grew fervent.

She gently pushed him against the cushions, letting her lips trail along the side of his neck. Maxwell’s blissful moan grazed her cheek as she looped one leg over his thigh and straddled him.

Fran felt his hands grasp her waist, giving her sides a tender squeeze. Threading her fingers through his hair, she plied Maxwell’s face with soft short kisses along the line of his jaw and worked her way down his collarbone.

"Oh god Fran," he breathed out, "you’re incredible."

A mischievous glow brightened her dark brown eyes. Brushing her thumb across his lips, Fran took his mouth in a searing kiss.

"I’m just getting started. You haven’t seen incredible yet."

Maxwell closed his eyes as her lips continued moving across his skin, kissing and licking the hollow of his throat. Raising his hands to her head, he stilled her movements, waiting for her eyes to meet his.

They both took deep gulps of air, desperately trying to maintain their breathing. Combing her hair from her face, Maxwell brushed his fingertips across her cheek. He sucked in a heavy gasp, attempting to control his erratic breath.

"Darling, do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?"

Fran looked at him, her mind slightly dazed by their passionate tryst.

"What?"

"Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"You want to know if I have plans for New Year’s Eve and you decide to ask me now?"

"I’m sorry sweetheart but the question just popped in my head."

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?"

"I suppose so." Maxwell curled his fingers in hers and bought her hand to his lips. "I made plans for the family."

"Where are we going?"

"Well what I have in mind is a little unusual."

She arched her eyebrow. "Unusual? Just what do you have in mind Max?"

"There’s a holiday production I’d like the family to attend."

"Production as in show?"

"Yes sweetheart."

"Have you checked with the kids? They might have plans, especially Maggie and Brighton."

"I’ve already spoken to them. They don’t have anything planned."

"Not that I don’t want to spend time with the kids but wouldn’t you prefer something a little more…intimate?"

"We spend so much of our lives darting here and there. The children have their schoolwork and extra curricular activities and I have my work at the theatre.

If you’re not here, you’re with your mother, Yetta, or Val. I just want the family to spend a little time with each other, all right sweetheart?" When Fran still seemed unconvinced, Maxwell played his final card. "Fran, we will have our own special time together. I promise."

"All right," she said in a heavy sigh. "Our time together is important but not as important as being with the kids."

"I’m glad you see it that way. I love you."

"I love you too."

A sensuous purr spilled from Fran’s throat, reverberating against his mouth when she met his lips in a gentle kiss. Maxwell smiled, mirroring her pleasurable hum. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he let his hands wander across her body as he pulled her against him.

"You two must have a secret desire to be exhibitionists since you continue to display your, um, affection for one another in an open forum."

They quickly parted, a sharp gasp echoed between them. Fran straightened her clothes as Maxwell wiped her lipstick from his mouth.

"Niles!" Maxwell pushed his hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, you scared us!"

"I apologize for frightening the two of you."

Fran glanced at her wrist then looked at Niles. "What the hell are you doing up anyway?"

"I wanted a late night snack. Obviously you two had the same thought."

"Good night Niles."

"Good night sir, good night Ms. Fine."

They watched Niles shuffle through the living room and head toward the kitchen. Checking his watch, Maxwell traced the contours of Fran’s cheek.

"I think we need to take our cue from Niles sweetheart."

"What have a late night snack?"

"No," Maxwell chuckled, "I mean go to bed."

"Mr. Sheffield, are you making me an offer?"

"Darling, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to."

"I know. The ground rules have already been set."

"Would you settle for being escorted to your door?"

Fran sighed and traced the edge of his collar with her fingertip.

"It’ll due…for now."

Maxwell offered her his hand and helped Fran from the couch. Slipping his arm around her waist, they silently climbed the curved staircase.

A gentle quietness fell between them as they strolled through the hallway. Stopping at the threshold of her room, Maxwell let a soft smile crawl across his features.

"Well here you are, safe and sound."

"I guess any ideas of you coming in my room to molest me are null and void."

"I’m afraid so."

"The least you could do is offer," Fran replied with a quick wink.

A soft chuckle seeped from his throat. "Off to bed with you young lady. I’ll see you in the morning."

"Good night Maxwell."

He bent his head toward Fran, stopping short of pressing his lips to hers. Flicking his eyes over her face, Maxwell met her mouth in a gentle kiss.

"Good night my love."

* * * * *

Maxwell drew back the cuff of his shirtsleeve and checked the time. Right on schedule. A slight grin crossed his face. Of course Fran doesn’t know that.

Leaning on the banister, he cast a quick glance up the staircase. Maxwell blew out an audible sigh then started pacing the length of the foyer.

"Fran, please hurry. We’re going to be late."

"I’ll be down in a minute. I’ve got one more thing to do."

Brighton laid his hand on his father’s arm, stopping him in mid-stride.

"Dad, Fran’s lived with us for five years. With all the premieres she’s gone to, you should be use to the fact that she usually runs a little late."

"Being use to it and accepting it are two entirely different things."

"And he wonders why we said they were married," Maggie whispered to Grace.

"I heard that Margaret."

Grace looked up at the sound of footsteps on the landing above her. Maggie, Brighton, and Maxwell turned when they heard her speak.

"Wow. Fran, you look beautiful."

"Yeah Fran," Maggie agreed, "You look terrific."

Before Brighton could respond, the sound of a wolf whistle came from behind them. Everyone turned as Niles entered the living room.

"Hubba hubba Ms. Fine."

Brighton nodded. "Yeah. What he said."

Fran smiled and playfully waved her hand, dismissing their comments as she descended the steps.

Maxwell watched her glide fluidly down the staircase. His mouth gaped slightly, awed by the vision she created.

The dress was a black strapless gown with a white-cuffed collar around the back that formed a diagonal lapel across the bodice. The skirt was three quarters black except for a pleated slash of white notched just below the end of the lapel.

As she stepped into the foyer, Maxwell noticed the brilliant glimmer of the silver y-necklace resting at her neckline.

The crystal marquise stones formed flower petals and butterflies along the ornamental wire with two pavé leaves set at the end of the necklace. A pair of pavé drop floral earrings dangled from her lobes.

"So, what do you think?"

He shook his head, a wide smile gracing his face. "Fran, you are exquisite."

"Thank you Max," she replied rewarding him with a gentle peck.

Niles walked toward the couple with a faux sable stole laid across his arm. Maxwell took the wrap from Niles then draped it across her shoulders.

"Come along children," Niles said walking to the door, "let’s wait in the car."

Maxwell waited until Maggie, Brighton, Grace, and Niles filed out of the house. Turning toward Fran, he wrapped his arms around her and met her mouth in a soft kiss.

"There is just one more thing darling."

"What’s that?"

"This."

Watching him pull a white satin sash from his pocket, Fran flashed him a sexy smile.

"A blindfold? What do you have in mind Maxwell?"

Standing behind her, he replied, "Trust me darling."

"Oh I trust you. I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours."

"Don’t worry sweetheart," Maxwell said as he covered her eyes with the sash. "I have everything under control." He leaned down and placed a light airy kiss on her ear.

"Be careful with my hair."

"I will."

"I’ve got a question for you."

"Yes darling?"

"How am I supposed to walk to and get in and out of the car if I’m blindfolded?"

"Fran, I told you not to worry about that. Tonight I’m your personal escort."

Her mouth broke into a soft smile. "Oh? What other personal things do you do?"

"All in due time Fran, all in due time."

Glancing down at the foyer table, he picked up the black silk evening bag. Maxwell traced the rhinestone flowered motif on the front of the purse.

Fran looks spectacular tonight. Everything about her entire ensemble is amazing.

"Here you are darling," Maxwell said placing the evening bag in her hand. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

Moving her body into his, Fran replied, "I’m ready for anything."

He chuckled then captured her mouth with his once more. Lacing their fingers together, Maxwell led Fran out the house and to the waiting limousine.

* * * * *

Fran crossed her legs, settling on the seat next to Maxwell. The blindfold made her other senses keener and sharper.

She could hear the soft rustle of Maggie’s stocking as she crossed her legs; the light uneven tapping of Brighton’s fingers against the armrest seemed amplified as well as Grace’s barely audible sigh.

A faint tingle traveled through Fran’s body as Maxwell traced the curve between her index finger and her thumb. The soft warmth of their entangled hands bit into her skin, inching its way along her arm.

The sharp aroma of Aramis flitted in her mind. Fran drew in a slow deep breath, seduced by the cologne combined with his own masculine scent. She felt Maxwell’s hand grasp her fingers followed by the softness of his lips against the back of her hand.

"Darling, are you all right?"

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yes." Fran cleared her throat of its odd pitch and spoke again. "Yes Max, I’m fine."

A peculiar stillness swallowed the interior of the limousine. Attempting to break the aura that settled in the car, Fran squeezed Maxwell’s hand and sat up in her seat.

"So what’s the name of this play anyway?"

"It’s not a play…exactly."

"Then what is it exactly?"

"It’s more of a cabaret."

"What’s the difference between a cabaret and a play?"

"A cabaret consists of skits, songs, and improvisations where as a play utilizes popular-style songs and dialogue to tell a story in a series of acts."

"So basically a cabaret is a one act play."

Maxwell loosened their intertwined fingers and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well it’s a little more complex than that but essentially…yes."

"Well now that we’ve got that settled, what’s the name of the cabaret?"

"Veritas et Lux."

"What does that mean?"

"It’s Latin for Truth and Light."

"What’s the cabaret about?"

"It’s an improvisational show based on The Twelve Days of Christmas only told backward."

"If the show is about The Twelve Days of Christmas, why is this cabaret running on New Year’s Eve? And why didn’t we go during Christmas?"

"It’s an off Broadway production with an unknown cast in a very limited run."

"Then why are we seeing it? Is there a particular actor or actress you’re interested in?"

"I thought the family would enjoy it. Outside of spending Hanukkah with your parents, we haven’t had a family outing in a while."

"That’s true but I have one question."

"Yes sweetheart?"

"For this you had to blindfold me?"

Maxwell bit the inside of his mouth to stifle his laughter. Fran turned and faced him as if she could read his expression.

"What’s so funny? You think just because I’m wearing this blindfold I can’t see the expression on your face?"

"How the devil do you know what expression I have on my face?"

"I’ve lived with you for five years. I think I know you pretty well by now."

Trying to mask his shock Maxwell patted Fran’s hand. "Let me put it to you this way darling. It’s a surprise I’m sure you won’t ever forget."

* * * * *

Fran shivered against the brisk December night when Maxwell helped her from the limousine. She felt his arm link with hers and heard the gentle shuffle of footsteps as they followed Maggie, Brighton, Grace, and Niles into the building.

The doors closed in a soft thud, muting the outside world. The emptiness of the theatre echoed around them as Maxwell guided her through the lobby.

"Maxwell?"

"Yes darling?"

"Are you sure there’s a performance tonight?"

"Of course I’m sure. Why?"

"The theatre sounds awfully empty."

Maxwell stood behind her. He unknotted the sash and carefully removed her blindfold.

Fran blinked her eyes rapidly, adjusting to the lights in the lobby. She cast a quick glance around until she found what she was looking for.

"I’ll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"To make sure you didn’t mess up my hair and makeup."

A warm grin cast across his face as he watched her saunter down the hallway until she disappeared from his line of sight.

It’s amazing how sexily she can prance, even in a dress like that.

His smile widened when he saw Fran walking toward him. Holding out his hand, Maxwell clasped his fingers around hers and escorted her to their seats.

"I take it you were as flawless as you were before we left the house?"

Should I tell him that the blindfold smudged my makeup and flattened my hair or just let it go?

Deciding not to spoil their evening, Fran slid her hand underneath his jaw and brushed his cheek with her thumb. She leaned in and met his mouth in a tender kiss.

"Everything was fine."

"See? I told you to trust me."

"You know you never did answer my question."

"What question?"

"About why the theatre is empty."

"You didn’t ask a question, you made a statement."

"Same difference."

Maxwell shook his head and smiled. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Are you sure you want me to answer that question right now?" she replied with a wink.

"No. There are children around. To answer you pseudo-question, the reason there is no audience tonight is because this is a special performance for our family."

"An exclusive show just for us?"

"Yes."

"Maxwell, that’s so exciting!"

"It’s good to be a big macher producer."

"I’ll say."

As the house lights began to dim, Maxwell threaded his fingers with hers and kissed the back of Fran’s hand.

"I hope you enjoy the show."

"I’m sure I will."

Settling back in her seat, Fran squeezed Maxwell’s hand as the thunderous drum roll reverberated in her body.

The curtains parted, revealing a majestic stage decorated in vivid colors of red, gold, blue, silver, and green. Through song and dance, the actors performed an interpretation for each day of Christmas. The musical numbers of the cabaret ranged from jazzy, upbeat melodies to soft, operatic ballads.

Fran stole a quick glance at Maxwell as he tapped his fingers against the armrest, keeping time with the rhythm of each song. Turning her head, she noticed Maggie and Brighton centered their attention on two of the individual performers instead of the show itself. Niles and Grace shifted in their seats, trying to keep their focus on the stage.

Maybe it’s me, but I’m wondering what The Twelve Days of Christmas has to do with Truth and Light.

I love Max but how much longer do we have to sit through this cabaret, she thought stifling a yawn. Where are we anyway? That’s right. The Turtledoves are on stage. Thank God, this is almost over!

The two turtledove performers finished their scene and made their way backstage. Fran looked around when the theatre lights rose and the curtains drew closed.

I know this can’t be the end of the performance. What happened to the partridge in a pear tree?

Just as the question entered her mind, the house lights dimmed. When the curtains parted, the spotlight fell on a pear tree at center stage and three more upstage left. The props lifted to reveal a man with a guitar and three women standing to his left.

Fran’s eyes grew wide when she realized who was standing directly in front of her. Grabbing Maxwell’s hand, she squirmed excitedly in her seat.

"Oh my god! David Cassidy! I love him!"

A soft smile spread across Maxwell’s face as he watched Fran lean forward, star struck by the singer as he moved downstage.

Last night, I turned out the light, lay down and thought about you

I thought about the way that it could be

Two o'clock, wonderin' what I'm doin' here alone without you

so I close my eyes and dream you here to me, and

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

Fran sang the lyrics with him, snapping her fingers and moving to the rhythm of the song. A flush of schoolgirl giddiness washed over her when David threw her a quick wink.

Hello, girl, yes it's five o'clock I know but you just listen

there's something that I've got to let you know

This is you, this pillow that I'm huggin' and I'm kissin'

and one more thing before I let you go

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

Do dreams come true, well if they do, I'll have you

Not just for a night, but for my whole life through

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

I woke up in love this morning

I woke up in love this morning

Went to sleep with you on my mind

Fran shot out of her seat, her hands meeting in a series of rousing, thunderous claps. Suffocating her usual capriciousness toward a celebrity, she channeled her behavior into pulling Maxwell in an enthusiastic embrace.

"Max that was fantastic! How did you get David Cassidy to perform?"

"I do have my ways Fran."

"I’m sorry. I know you do. It’s just that…that’s David Cassidy!"

He laughed then gently pulled her into his arms. "Would you like to meet him?"

Fran’s eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. Come along children."

Taking her by the hand, Maxwell escorted Fran to the stage. Stopping at the edge of the platform, he and David exchanged greetings before Maxwell introduced everyone.

"David, I’d like you to meet Fran Fine. She’s a great admirer of yours. And these are my children, Margaret, Brighton, and Grace."

The children introduced themselves then stepped back to let Fran and Maxwell talk with the singer.

"Mr. Cassidy," Fran said stretching forth her hand, "it’s such an honor to meet you. You were magnificent."

"Thank you. Please, call me David."

"I’ve been such a huge fan of yours for years!"

"Really?"

"Yes. I loved The Partridge Family. I always thought you had a sexy voice. It didn’t hurt that you were gorgeous to boot." She swatted Maxwell on the arm. "Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to? I could have brought my camera!"

"Fran?"

She turned toward Maggie. Initially puzzled by the object in her hand, Fran realized Maggie held a small camera.

"Smile!"

The flash blinded her for a moment. Blinking to clear her vision of the bright colored spots, a relieved smile broke across Fran’s face.

"Thanks Maggie." Unable to contain her excitement, she started jumping up and down. "This is the best day of my life. I met David Cassidy and Maggie took our picture. Can this day get any better?"

"I certainly hope so," Maxwell replied. He turned, offering the singer his hand. "Thank you for everything David."

"Thank you Maxwell," David said returning his handshake. "Fran it was a pleasure meeting you."

"The pleasure was mine David. Thank you so much for singing for us. That’s one of my favorite songs. I know most people say I Think I Love You is their favorite song from The Partridge Family but I’ve always loved I Woke Up In Love This Morning."

"You’re more than welcome Fran."

She leaned into Maxwell, meeting his lips in a quick passionate kiss.

"You’re the best boyfriend a girl could have."

"There is just one more thing sweetheart."

"What’s that?"

"Your sixth gift."

"Another gift?"

Maxwell nodded then turned toward Brighton. Facing Fran, he presented her with a small royal blue box decorated with raised white snowflakes.

Fran stared at the box cradled in Maxwell’s hand. Settling in the seat behind her, she reached out and took the gift from him. She set the box in her lap then drew a light breath to steady herself.

Working the top from the box, Fran dug through the blue and white tissue paper and pulled out another box.

"You’re really making me work for this, aren’t you?"

"Just think of this as one of the many elements of your surprise."

Fran drew a miniature porcelain trunk from the second box. The chest was adorned in a gold two tone scrolled floral pattern that embellished the lower half of the trunk.

"Max, it’s beautiful." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much."

"Fran, the Limoges box is not your final gift."

"It isn’t?"

"No."

"Then what is my final gift?"

With a soft chuckle, he replied, "Darling look inside the box."

Fran’s breath caught when she flipped back the hinged top. Clutching her hand to her chest, she looked up into Maxwell’s bright dancing eyes.

"Oh my god! Max, I – I don’t know what to say."

The seven and a half carat princess cut solitaire glinted under the theatre lights with beams of red, green, and yellow bouncing from each facet. Taking the trunk out of her hand, he plucked the ring nestled from its center then set the Limoges box aside.

"Fran, you awakened a part of me that I thought long dead. You are a source of love, comfort, and joy to us all. You blew into our lives and healed us. You’ve made us all happy, a lot happier than we had been for a very long time.

You mean the world to us because without you, we’d be lost. I can never repay the love you’ve freely given us but I hope that this will be a start."

"What are you saying Max?"

"I’m asking if you, Francine Fine, will do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage. Will you officially become my wife and mother to our children?"

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Fran looked from Maxwell to the ring to the children then back to Maxwell. She opened her mouth but words failed to spill from her throat.

Brighton huffed out an impatient breath waiting for Fran’s decision.

"For God’s sake Fran, say yes and put dad out of his misery!"

Maggie and Grace smacked their brother on the arm.

"Brighton!"

"What!"

"You can’t rush things like this," Maggie replied.

"Yeah," Grace added. "This is a very important decision that affects all of us."

"What rush? They should have been married a long time ago and we all know it. I don’t understand the hesitation."

"Yes."

Maxwell looked at Fran. He saw her lips move but wasn’t sure of her answer.

"What sweetheart?"

"I said yes. I would love to be your wife and mother to your children."

"Our children," he corrected.

Slipping the ring on her finger, Maxwell cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a quick kiss.

"Are you sure? Once you’ve said yes, there’s no turning back."

"I’m very sure. I don’t want to ever go back."

"I love you Fran."

"I love you too Maxwell."

He reached out and caressed the contours of her face with the back of his fingers. Smoothing his hand along her jaw line, Maxwell cupped the side of Fran’s neck. Mirroring her slight smile, he drew her into another tender kiss accompanied by a torrent of applause that enveloped the theatre.

******************************************************************************

Author Notes:

Emotional Rescue written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards; performed by Mick Jagger

Information on Akhenaten and Nefertiti and Kiya are found at www.kingtutone.com, http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/3499/visitors.htm, and http://members.tripod.com/~ib205/kiya.html

The following translations are of the blessings said over the lighting of the hanukkiah:

Blessed are You, Eternal One Our God, Universal Presence, Who sanctifies us with mitzvoth [path to holiness] and gives us this path of kindling the light of Chanukkah.

Blessed are You, Eternal One Our God, Universal Presence, Who worked miracles for our ancestors in ancient days at this time.

On the first night of Hanukkah, the following blessing is added:

Blessed are You, Eternal One our God, Universal Presence, Who keeps us in Life always, Who supports the unfolding of our uniqueness, and Who brings us to this very moment for blessing.

Translation of the Hanerot Halalu prayer:

We light these lights For the miracles and the wonders, for the redemption and the battles that you made for our forefathers, in those days at this season, through your holy priests.

During all eight days of Chanukah these lights are sacred. We are not permitted to make ordinary use of them, but only to look at them; In order to express thanks and praise to Your great Name for your miracles, Your wonders and your salvations.

Yiddish words:

schlub – a person regarded as clumsy, stupid, or unattractive

mazel tov – congratulations! (literally ‘good luck’, from Hebrew)

kvetch – to annoy or to be an annoying person, to complain

schmuck – a vulgarism for penis, strong putdown for a jerk, a detestable person

putz – a vulgarism for penis but most usually used as term of contempt for a fool, or an easy mark

schmoozing – to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection

Hanukkah – an 8-day Jewish holiday beginning on the 25th of Kislev and commemorating the rededication of the Temple of Jerusalem after its defilement by Antiochus of Syria

Maoz Tzur – Rock of Ages – one of the songs sung during Hanukkah

brachah rishonah – preceding blessing before eating

menorah – a candelabra with seven or nine candles that is used in Jewish worship

yarmulke – a skullcap worn especially by Orthodox and Conservative Jewish males in the synagogue and the home

shamash candle – known as the servent candle, the Shamash candle is used to light the other eight candles since it is forbidden to use the Hanukkah lights for any purpose other than viewing

mishpocha – family, usually extended family

tallit – a prayer shall worn for morning prayer, during the week as well as on Shabbat and other holy days

challah – egg-rich yeast-leavened bread that is usually braided or twisted before baking and is traditionally eaten by Jews on the Sabbath and holidays

dreidel – a 4-sided toy marked with Hebrew letters and spun like a top in a game of chance

gelt – Yiddish for money; given at Hanukkah (chocolate or real coins)

mishegoss – inappropriate, crazy, or bizarre actions or beliefs

macher – an ambitious person; a schemer with many plans

Jewish Literacy: The Most Important Things to Know About the Jewish Religion, Its People and Its History, by Joseph Telushkin (available through Amazon)

I Woke Up In Love This Morning written by - Irwin Levine & L. Russell Brown, performed by David Cassidy



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