Continuation of "The Hanukkah Episode"

by

Aimee
(aimeed@earthlink.net)

The glow from the Christmas tree reflected gently off the faces of those gathered around it. Though it lacked eight days until Christmas, it was the first night of Hanukkah, and they had their miracle. Three of them, lost and abandoned in the cold mere hours before, had come back safely. Now all nine of them sat together in peace and unity wrapped in their private thoughts.

Fran Fine Sheffield rested her hand on her abdomen and her head on her husband's shoulder, smiling as she thought, "I never believed in miracles, but I'm married to Max, pregnant, he's home safe, and it's been ten minutes Niles and C.C. snapped at each other. That's four miracles this year. Now if I can just keep my age a secret, that's five!"

Max wasn't thinking anything. Not being a man with a philosophical turn, he simply enjoyed the holiday atmosphere without really trying to analyze it.

Niles thought, "Okay, lost in a storm, ran out of gas, car kept going anyway, I know there's a zinger in here somewhere . . . Hopefully she'll find it cute. I can't take much more of this."

C.C., her face the only grim one in the crowd, thought, "I've gotta get outta here before I'm ill. I swear, one more carol and I'll bash someone's head in. But I've got to talk to Niles before I retire . . . or maybe I shouldn't. . . I can't let this holiday crap get to me."

Sylvia, Yetta, and Grace contemplated the macaroons.

Brighton contemplated his presents.

Maggie contemplated her boyfriend's behind, the one that was plastered all over Times Square.

Finally, the pleasant tension was broken by the exchange of a tender look between Fran and Maxwell. A thrill went through both of them and they rose to their feet as one. "Good night, everyone," Max said genially.

"'Night, all," Fran said brightly, waving as she put her other arm through her husband's and they started up the stairs. The party broke up with the sudden sound of chattering, clinking dishes, and a plate of macaroons sliding into Sylvia's purse.

"It's now or never," C.C. thought, and picked up a few dishes, following Niles into the kitchen.

Niles turned when he heard her enter. "Thanks," he said, taking the dishes and raising his eyebrows at her thoughtful gesture. "What do you want?" It was the only possible explanation for C.C. being nice.

"Nothing! Isn't a girl allowed to feel the helpful holiday spirit?" she asked, outraged. Two seconds and her plan to have a serious talk was shot down.

"Please. This from the woman who leaves Santa cookies and arsenic."

"Fine! I'm done helping. Good night, Niles. Enjoy another holiday alone." C.C. stalked out.

As she ascended the gracefully curving front staircase to the guestroom, C.C. silently blessed Maxwell for inviting her to stay. After the exhausting day she'd had, she'd never have made it home awake.

When she entered the guestroom, it was to find everything prepared for her. The covers were turned down and the electric blanket switched on. A small crystal lamp burned at the bedside table. Chester, who had originally been going to stay here while she was in Boston with Max, was curled up on one of the pillows.

The most pleasant surprise was the one lying across the foot of the bed. Fran had offered her the loan of a nightgown since some of her things had been ruined in the accident, but C.C. hadn't expected the magnificent gown that had been laid out for her.

It was a peignoir, winter-white, and made of exquisite fragile silk. The nightgown was high waisted, with tiny puffed sleeves and a deep scoop neck. The neckline, sleeves, and waist had all been trimmed in thin lace ribbon, and at least a foot of thick Valenciennes lace graced the hem of the skirt. The robe was long, loose and flowing, tying with three tiny bows in a row in front. It was almost as low-cut as the gown, and the same thick Valenciennes lace trimmed the hem, neckline, and heavy sleeves. The fabric slid down her body, making her shiver delicately. It was warm from laying on top of the electric blanket, and it felt sinfully good.

A basket of toiletries sat on the bedside table with a set of towels. C.C. found the bathroom empty and the rest of the house silent and dark as she quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth. As she passed the master bedroom, a soft sighing from within made her pull a face and walk a little faster.

Nothing had ever felt so deliciously good as sliding her weary body between the warm sheets and sinking into oblivion, but that soft sighing she'd heard from Fran and Max's room haunted her long after she should have been asleep. It was the sound that all her dreams were built on, the sound that seemed to speak of utter contentment, of love and safety and sweet passion, all those things she secretly yearned after but which seemed fated for other people. This was the closest she would ever come, lying alone in her bed aware that she was an interloper in a household built on that very love. Maxwell had given that joy to Nanny Fine, not to her, and the only other man that could --

No. Don't go there. C.C. shifted to her side and tried to sleep, but it was useless. Her exhausted body was prey to the dejected self-pitying wanderings of her mind.

C.C. thrust back the covers and threw the robe on, tying the bows as she silently padded down the hall to the stairs. Her only light was the Christmas tree, which fortunately for her was positioned right next to her goal: the liquor cabinet.

C.C. splashed a measure of brandy into a glass and was just replacing the bottle when a voice from behind her said, "I thought you weren't supposed to be drinking."

Niles stood behind her in pajama pants and a robe. "I've been off my medications for weeks," she replied. "And I'd say one brandy is a lot healthier than lying awake all night. I take it you're here for the same reason?" She took the bottle back out and reached for another glass.

He nodded. "The accident had me rather anxious. I was scared half to death that you -- you three weren't coming back. Thank you." He accepted the drink.

"Hah," she said, crossing the room to drop onto the sofa. "Try being abandoned in a blizzard thinking you're going to die and then tell me about scared."

"I thought ice was your natural element." Niles sat down beside her and raised his glass. They clinked together and drank.

C.C. found that when she looked at him, she became far too conscious of the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt under his robe. She could see the faint shadows of his chest hair and smell a fresh, clean male scent. It was then that she noticed that the tips of his hair were slightly damp. She averted her eyes and tried to shut off the thought of him in the shower, water sluicing over his skin.

"What is it?" Niles asked, seeing her press her fingertips to her temple in a gesture of frustration. "Do you have a headache?"

C.C. sighed and shook her head. "Not tonight, honey."

Niles chuckled. Damn, but she was lovely. The gown looked just as magnificent on her as he thought it would when he chose it for her from Mrs. Sheffield's armoire as he was preparing the guest room for her. Without makeup, her face was very young and sweet and serious. Her eyes looked tip-tilted and soft rather than piercing, and her skin had a creamy, almost translucent pallor.

"Were you really scared?" he asked, just to break the tension.

"I thought I was going to die, of course I was scared. I couldn't help thinking of all the things I wanted to do that I'd never done, all the things I wanted to say that I never said."

"Like what?"

"Well, you know, work things. There's so much left to be done there."

"What about people? I don't mind admitting I'd have missed all three of you."

C.C. looked up in surprise. "Me, too?"

"Yes, Caca, you too. Who would I torment for fun?"

"You're right. You really would be lost without me."

"Yes," he admitted frankly. "I would. And I was terrified. And I promised myself if you came back I'd tell you so."

C.C. held her breath for a moment, then took the plunge. "I did, too. I'd have missed you, Niles. I didn't want to die without telling you that."

For a moment, they were still. Then, his lips brushed hers lightly, and she parted her mouth.

"Baby," he whispered. "Let me kiss you."

And she did. She slid her hand up around the back of his neck and tilted her head, letting his mouth settle on hers.

He drew back and searched her eyes with his. At the same time, without breaking eye contact, they set down their drinks and wrapped their arms around each other. For the first time they were locked in an embrace that couldn't even remotely be blamed on alcohol as they explored each other's mouths, each tasting brandy on the other's tongue, each closing their eyes to savor the soft, piercing sweetness of the kiss, the terrifying delight of body touched lightly to body.

Then C.C. drew back, rose to her feet, extended her hand to him. "Come on," she whispered. Then, as he didn't move, "Don't you want to?"

Niles hesitated, then pulled on her hand, drawing her back down beside him. "Believe me, Miss Babcock, there is nothing on earth I want more at this moment."

"Then what is it?" she asked with a teasing smile. "Don't you want to wait to get upstairs?" As she leaned in and kissed him again, she felt his chest shudder at the touch of her fingers on his bare chest beneath the robe. When he still seemed unsure, she frowned and drew back. "Niles, I don't understand. You say you want to, but you're not working with me here. What's wrong?"

"I don't wish to take advantage," he said quietly. "With any other woman I'd say hell yes, but you're distraught and frightened about the accident. You're really in no frame of mind to make that kind of decision."

A look of angry confusion crossed her face, but she quickly stifled it. "But that's why this is so right. We both need each other tonight, Niles. What's so complicated about that?" C.C.'s simple wisdom told her only that she needed his company and he needed hers, and there was no logical reason to resist. In no way was she prepared to understand what he said next as he gripped her arms in his hands.

"Miss Babcock, listen to me. I understand what you're saying and it's true, every word. But I don't want one quick night from you. From anyone else, hell yes. But I wouldn't touch you unless I knew for damn sure it was serious."

Shocked into silence, C.C. sat immobile as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. He was saying no to a one-night stand but opening up a whole new world of possibilities she wasn't at all sure she could handle. "You're saying you don't want to just sleep with me, you want the whole relationship thing."

"Yes, exactly." Niles' fists clenched in his lap as he awaited her response.

"I don't know what to do. I could say yes, but what if it's just passion talking?" C.C. turned away from him, distressed.

Niles sighed. At least she understood his concerns on a surface level, even if the deeper understanding eluded her. "What is it you want, Babcock?"

"I don't know, Niles! Time, I guess, to figure things out." C.C. shook her head in frustration.

Niles put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned back to him. "That's fair enough. Let's make a deal. Eight days from now it will be Christmas Eve. For the first time in many years, the last day of Hanukkah falls on the same night. Symbolically, it's the ideal time for people from two different worlds to come together. Spend the time between now and then thinking very seriously about what you really want. All I ask is that you come to me and give me your answer truthfully. If yes, I promise you I will do my best to make you happy. If no, all I ask is that you be honest with me, and I promise never to mention it again, and everything will be back the way it was."

"I promise," she answered, and once again he thought how very young and grave she looked tonight. "Whatever I decide, I promise to be honest and tell you to your face, and you promise to accept my decision."

"I promise." Unable to resist, Niles leaned forward and kissed her very briefly. "You look exhausted. Good night, Babcock."

"Good night, Niles," she answered. She smiled a little as she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. She dug her nails into her leg to keep from throwing herself at him, then quickly rose and crossed in front of him.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped and looked back at his disappearing figure as he moved toward the back of the house.

"I still don't see why we couldn't have just done it," she grumbled.

Niles quickly recounted the plates as he set them out on the buffet. He checked the silver serving dishes to see that nothing was getting dry or cold, and waited for the family to arrive for breakfast.

Gracie arrived first, followed soon after by Brighton and Maggie. Fran and Max entered together, and they all dug in.

At last, Max voiced the thought that had been eating at Niles for an hour already. "Where's Miss Babcock?"

"Probably still tired," Fran reasoned. "Niles, just set aside a couple of cinnamon rolls for her, she likes those, then you can clean the rest up."

Grumbling, Niles began the daily labor of cleaning up breakfast, surely the messiest meal of the day. Finally, when he glanced at his watch, it was ten thirty. She'd been in her room for almost twelve hours now. He decided to go and check on her.

Fran was coming out of the guestroom just as he arrived. "Oh, Niles! I was just looking for you. Here," she said. "Think she left you a tip?" She handed Niles an envelope with his own name scrawled on it in C.C.'s elegant script.

"Where is she?" he asked in alarm.

"I was hoping you could tell me that. All I know is, she's packed and gone. Well, open it up and read it." Fran hung eagerly over his shoulder.

"Later," he said hurriedly. At Fran's reproachful look, he thought fast and told her, "Miss Grace wanted to see you. It seems there's a one-day linen sale that requires your presence."

Fran was gone like a cannon went off in her spike heels, and Niles slowly entered the guestroom. The covers were tousled and disarranged, but the toiletries were untouched except for the soap, washcloth, and toothpaste she'd used the night before, and her purse and Chester's carrying case were gone. It looked as though she might have sneaked out as soon as they'd parted ways the night before. Fran's peignoir lay neatly on the dressing table stool.

He sat down on the bed and opened the letter.

Dear Niles,

C.C. cut through the warm water of the pool and swam a few fast, furious laps, then flipped onto her back to look up into the moonlit sky. She let her mind drift, and it came back to the same thing it always came back to: Niles, and what to do.

The plusses: he was a good man, they understood how the other thought. They had that delicious electricity between them that scared and thrilled her, and deep inside her she yearned to give into him. And she loved their sparring maybe more than anything else about him.

The minuses: they were terribly different. In fifteen years, he'd hardly said a tender word to her at all, they fought constantly, and if she were with him, she faced the censure of society. Plus, she was just damn scared. This was the one she might not be able to walk away from if she needed to. If this thing between them ended badly, it could destroy her emotionally and drive her away from Sheffield Babcock Productions forever.

It was simple: no woman in her right mind would go there.

And yet it wasn't.

This California spa was full of lonely singles like herself, with no one to go home to for the holidays. She'd had more than one interesting offer while she was here, but C.C. found herself declining all offers out of hand. She had too much to think about already.

She sighed, wishing she had someone to confide in. Unfortunately, the one person who'd ever understood her was ten years in the grave and a nasal-voiced interloper now stood in her place.

Well, maybe it was time to pay a visit to an old friend and see if it gave her some perspective. Her flight left for LaGuardia at six a.m. That should give her plenty of time to get back to Manhattan, make her pilgrimage, and return in time to join the Sheffields for dinner and keep her promise to Niles.

The next morning, it didn't occur to her to wonder why she made a point of napping on the plane "just in case" she had a long night ahead of her.

Leaves and bits of pinecone crunched under C.C.'s heels as she swiftly and silently crossed the hard ground, passing between tombstones until she reached a short footbridge arching over a frozen creek hidden in a copse of trees. The scent of pine rose all around her, sweet and fresh and heady, and she paused for a moment to enjoy being sheltered from the wind. Then, she stepped off the bridge back onto the path, stopping to pull her diaphanous black scarf over her head and wrap it around her face.

As she moved into the open ground beyond the trees, the wind bit at her through the scarf, and she reflected that there were certain occasions when fashion was precious little good. Oh, well. At least she had her heavy wool duster and fur-lined leather gloves. All in black, of course. Melodramatic perhaps, but tradition demanded it.

The path to the grave she sought carried her up a slight, broad hill into an older, grander part of the cemetery favored by the city's elite. It took her a while to find the headstone. It was one of the smallest there, because Maxwell had been too insane with grief to even contemplate a more elaborate memorial to his deceased wife. But eventually, C.C. found what she was looking for. There, at the top of a rise not far from the trees, she came to the grave of her former best friend, Sarah Huntley Sheffield.

"Merry Christmas, Sarah," C.C. said awkwardly, laying a bouquet of yellow roses tied with a bit of lace on the ground. "I still miss you, you know. I think sometimes you were the only real friend I ever had."

C.C. sat carefully down on the hard ground. "I feel stupid coming to you with my problems. Your problems are kinda worse, I mean after all, you're the one who's dead. And it's not like you can answer. But you always seemed to know just what to do, and boy I could use some of those Sarah smarts now. I'm in such an awful mess. Niles is in love with me, and I think I might be falling in love back. But it just doesn't make any sense. I mean, me and Niles! We're so different. Our lives, our families, our careers, such as his is. He's nothing like the kind of man I always thought I'd be with. What does he have to offer me? For that matter, what do I have to offer him? I think he's a big believer in that whole thing where if you really love each other, that should be enough, but it isn't. I just can't be that reliant on a man. I've always been on my own, I can't just start needing somebody now. I can't offer him that dependence that Nanny Fine feels for Maxwell. Does that mean I don't really love him? I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't be mentioning her to you -- what am I saying? This is nuts. It's not like you care anymore."

C.C. sighed. "This isn't making me feel any better. I don't know why I thought this would help. Merry Christmas, Sarah," she said bitterly, and started to rise. Then, a memory came to life in her mind, and she quickly pulled off her glove.

The ground was too hard for her fingers to make an impression, so she took one of the roses from her bundle and used it to dig the letters into the dirt.

L,

C.C.

It meant "Love, C.C." She used to sign notes to Sarah like that.

She lay the roses on top of the letters so that if Maxwell came to visit, he wouldn't see them and ask her about them. It was private, between her and Sarah.

C.C. pulled her glove back on and started to rise, but as she did, a powerful wind swirled around her, blowing her dress back against her legs, tearing the dark veil from her hair, and scattering the roses. And to her astonishment and fear, below her signature, letters began to trace themselves into the dirt.

L,

Love, The Future Sarah Sheffield.

It was the way Sarah optimistically signed herself when Maxwell was still just a dream in her young heart.

C.C. began to shake, her leather-covered fingers reaching up to cover her mouth. She took a step back, pivoted to run.

Sarah stood in her path. "Hi, C.C. I've missed you, too."

C.C. squeaked incoherently. Sarah looked just as she had when they had tea together a few hours before her death. She was clad only in a thin sweater and a light, flowered skirt, yet the cold didn't seem to affect her. Even her honey-golden hair remained in perfect order despite the wind, and C.C. could see from ten feet away that perfect, warm Sarah smile.

C.C. didn't know how, but all at once Sarah was at her side, drawing her down to sit together on the grass.

Finally, C.C. found her tongue. "Sarah! How?"

Sarah smiled again. She snuggled close to C.C., arm around her waist as they used to do when sharing confidences as girls. "You called me, C.C. You said you needed me."

"I've needed you so many times! Why have you never come before?"

Sarah looked concerned. "You've always been so strong, C.C. There wasn't anything you couldn't get through by yourself. But now, things are changing in ways that you aren't prepared for, so I guess that's why this time I was able to come to you. This is the first time you've ever really needed me."

"What am I to do?"

Sarah shook her head. "You and Niles. I never saw that one coming. Geez, if I didn't know better, I'd say Armageddon was approaching."

"It isn't, is it?" C.C. asked warily, figuring a ghost would have the inside scoop.

Sarah giggled. "No, C.C. It isn't." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "But I would have all the computer systems tested before Y2K. I don't think Windows 95 is quite up to speed."

C.C. was now utterly confused. "Is that what you came to tell me?"

Sarah sighed. She crossed her legs and pulled C.C. down so that C.C.'s head lay in her lap. She began to stroke C.C.'s hair back from her brow. "C.C., I think you know what you ought to do. You just need somebody to tell you the world isn't going to end if you do it. And no, since you're going to ask, I'm not talking about the computers anymore."

"Niles," C.C. said softly. She toyed with one of the roses.

"Yes, C.C., Niles. Sweetheart, I know this is scary. But you've got to ask yourself, are you really any happier without him?"

"But Sarah, I thought if he was right for me, I'd just know. Like you did with Maxwell. Like Nanny -- " C.C. broke off abruptly.

"It's okay, C.C. I like Fran. I sent her to Maxwell."

C.C. sat straight up. "You!" She glared at Sarah harshly.

"Yes," Sarah replied. She tried to stroke C.C.'s hair again, but C.C. wouldn't let her. "Don't you see, I did it for you too, to save you from yourself. You'd never be happy as his wife. Maxwell needs a homebody, like me, like Fran. Somebody who'll sit and adore him. Somebody he can spoil and coddle and take care of. You need someone who loves your fire, your strength, someone who can handle you when you get out of hand and adore you for it all at the same time and still be there when you need him. You and Maxwell are both wonderful people who deserve love. But not with each other. You'd overwhelm him, and he'd stifle you. Besides," Sarah added merrily, leaning in close. "I know some of the stuff you're into, darling, and I just don't think you and Max would be compatible, if you know what I mean." Sarah winked. "Now, Niles, on the other hand . . . "

"He swings both ways: when the first hand gets tired, he switches to the other one," C.C. said dryly. "Oh, damn, I wish he was here for that one." They bent their heads together and giggled.

"See?" Sarah asked. "You need that spark, C.C. You'd never be happy without it."

C.C.'s rigid posture wilted steadily as Sarah spoke. "Okay. I guess I see what you mean. But that doesn't answer my original question. Why don't I just know?"

"The same reason I could never decide what to be when I grew up, but you knew exactly where you were going. I was confident when it came to love and not so confident about my career. You're a born businesswoman who's a little scared of love. That's all it is."

"So what you're saying is, I'll never know unless I try?"

"Yeah. Tell me this. When you were standing at my grave before I got here, did you want to be alone, or would you rather have had Niles at your side?"

C.C. looked surprised. "I would have been glad to see Niles here."

"Isn't that your answer? Do you know what you want now?"

"Yes! But what about -- "

Sarah waved her hand. "What about nothing. All chances you have to take unless you want to be alone for the rest of your life."

"You're right. At least, I hope you are. Sarah, I'm going to go to him now. When will I see you again? You are coming back, aren't you?"

Sarah took her hands and they both rose. "C.C., whenever you need me, or whenever something important is happening to you, I'll be there. I was there with you in The Place all the time. I was there when Max finally made you Vice President. I was there when you got the Broadway Guild Award. I'm staying around to keep watch over my family, and that includes you and Niles. Even though you may never see me, I'll always be there for you, C.C."

C.C.'s smile turned teasing. "Always?"

Sarah's bright laugh pealed out. "Oh, C.C. No, dearest, then I promise to take a vacation."

"I love you, Sarah," C.C. said softly, wrapping her arms around her friend.

"I love you, too, C.C." Sarah held her tightly. "Well, what a coincidence. Look who's coming."

Niles hung to the rear as the Sheffield family stopped at the bottom of the hill.

"I wonder who those two women at Sarah's grave are," Max said thoughtfully. "The one isn't even wearing a coat."

"Two?" Fran frowned. "I only see one."

"No, there are two. See, the veiled woman in black and the other -- oh!" Max froze, mouth wide open. He looked wildly around to see if anyone else saw her, but the children and Fran merely shook their heads and looked blank.

He looked to Niles, and saw that utter shock had turned his butler's face to stone. "I see her," he said so quietly that only Max heard.

"But who's the other?" The two men began to run, leaving the rest of the family standing at the bottom of the hill.

"Miss Babcock," Niles replied breathlessly. And just as he did, the woman in black lifted her hand in a gesture of farewell. Sarah faded from sight in a gust of wind that tugged C.C.'s scarf from her head and sent it flying straight into Niles' outstretched hands.

"Sarah, wait!" Max cried, arriving at C.C.'s side.

C.C. turned to him with a smile, and tears glittered in her eyes. "She said to tell you she loves you very much, Max." As Niles joined them, she turned to him and said nervously, "And now there's something I have to tell you, Niles."

Soberly, still in shock, Niles handed her the scarf and she arranged it so that it covered her head and throat. Then, he took her arm and escorted her down the hill past the wondering eyes of Fran and her brood as they hurried to join Max at the grave.

"I don't believe what I just saw," he said quietly, for once too stunned and solemn to make a joke.

"Neither did I. I went to her grave because she was my best friend, and I thought maybe being near her would help me understand what to do. She was always so wise. But then she appeared. I almost ran away."

"What did she say?"

"She said that she's been with us whenever we were in trouble, like when you had your attack or when I had to go away last spring. She also knows all the good stuff that happened. She's glad Max married Nanny Fine."

Niles silently absorbed it all for a moment as they reached the bridge. "And did you get the advice you needed?"

"Yes, I did." C.C.'s face was serene. "I finally know what to do."

Sheltered from view by the thick pines, her face shadowed in the dying light of the setting sun, C.C. reached for him. "I love you, Niles," she said urgently, and kissed him.

Niles met her kiss with all his passion. "I love you, too, Miss Babcock," he answered, and held her tightly. She felt so fragile in his arms, but her embrace was strong.

"You know, I hear this is a good night for people from two different worlds to finally come together," she said in a whiskey-honey voice. "What do you think?"

His only response was a kiss that left her reeling.

As night plunged them into darkness, the lonely butler and the bitter heiress finally fell in love.

Fran's eagle eye was upon them all that night. She noticed the way C.C. jumped whenever anyone called for Niles, how one telltale hand would steal up to check her hair or smooth her dress.

After they all met back in the parking lot at the cemetery, C.C. had gone home alone, promising to meet them back at the townhouse for dinner. Niles had pulled her aside and murmured something that got a naughty smile and a low laugh.

About an hour later, C.C. had walked in gowned in a stunning red sparkling evening gown, and a shell-shocked Niles had dropped her white fur to the floor and followed her across the room with his eyes.

Now, dinner was over and both of them were as jumpy as Yetta's retirement home on Bingo day, and Fran wanted to know what was going on.

"Is she flipping again?" she demanded to Maxwell. "'Cause when we got to the cemetery she was talking to nobody and there were all those strange letters traced in the dirt."

"No," Maxwell replied gently. "She's perfectly calm. She and Sarah were simply very close, that's all."

"But honey -- "

"Fran, that's all there is to it."

"Okay, then what's going on with Niles? He looks he's waiting for Ed McMahon to walk through the front door and slit his throat with a Publisher's Clearing House check."

Max chuckled. "That I don't know. When he was helping me decide between my Christmas tree tie and my snowflake tie I asked him what's going on and he pretended he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Well I better get some gossip soon, or I will just plotz."

Just then, C.C. rose. "It's been fun, but I should really get home before the storm gets any worse." She caught Niles' look of hurt surprise and smiled conspirationally at him. "I hope I can get a taxi in this weather," she said pointedly. "I didn't want to drive my BMW on these roads."

Niles scowled. "I suppose that's a hint for a ride home. Why don't I just loan you a broom?" He flashed her a naughty grin.

Maxwell missed it all. "C.C., why don't you just spend the night here -- "

"No!" Niles and C.C. chorused at once. She amended, "I wouldn't want to be any trouble," just as he was herding her toward the door and complaining, "I did that tour of duty last week!" He impatiently held her luxurious white fur for her, then shrugged into his own black wool coat. The door closed behind them, leaving Fran and Max staring at each other open-mouthed.

"You don't suppose they could be planning to -- " Maxwell circled his hand in the air helplessly.

"Stuff her stocking?" Fran shook her head. "Not in this lifetime. I think."

They raced to the front window to watch Niles and Miss Babcock drive away.

Niles still wasn't entirely sure what to expect as he escorted her down the hall to her apartment door. As she reached into her flat evening bag for her keys, he touched her arm, feeling a pleasurable tingle at the sensation of his fingers running through thick fur. C.C. looked up at him expectantly, and he tilted his head and kissed her good night.

C.C. cleared her throat. "Ah -- Niles." He raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you coming in?" She unconsciously worked her hands nervously.

"Do you even need to ask?" he answered, gathering her into his arms and kissing her urgently.

"Mmm," she murmured, protesting, and separated herself long enough to unlock the door.

Niles entered behind her and registered both shock and arousal as he surveyed his surroundings. C.C.'s apartment was much the same as he remembered it, all black leather and stark elegance, except that a bottle of Dom Perignon sat in an ice bucket on the coffee table and a tray of canapés sat beside it. A stack of cushions and pashmina afghans lay scattered before the fireplace.

C.C. flipped on a dim lamp that colored the room with light and shadows. She removed her gloves and laid them on a table, then took his coat and hung it up. When he moved to embrace her, she danced out of his arms with a sly little smile.

"Please, sit down," she said, and her voice alone betrayed a hint of nerves. She waved a hand at the canapés. He took one to be polite, ate it, and then began to uncork the wine bottle.

While Niles wrestled with the drinks, C.C. knelt before the fireplace, touching a match to some kindling. Soon, flames leapt up and she warmed her trembling hands. She glanced to the side and noticed that his eyes lifted to meet hers as he poured. She smiled, and put the finishing touch on her preparations: she removed her fur coat and spread it over the cushions to make a bed before the fire.

C.C. slowly lowered herself to her knees on the fur, running her fingers invitingly through it. Niles slowly rose and took the champagne flutes in his hands. He gave her one, and as she lifted it to her lips, she watched his every movement over the gold-tipped rim of the glass. First he set his drink down and removed his jacket, laying it over the arm of the sofa. Then, he took off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Finally, he knelt beside her, glass in hand, sipping at his champagne and watching her, waiting for her to make the next move.

For a while she simply let the tension build. Each time one of them touched their lips to the rim of their glass, the other wondered: Maybe after this sip he'll take me in his arms . . . Maybe after this drink she'll lie down and pull me to her . . . I don't know how much longer I can wait . . . Maybe now . . .now . . .

Niles took another canapé and caressed it with his lips, licking at the creamy topping.

C.C. ran her fingertip around the inside of her wineglass.

Finally, when just a swallow of golden liquid remained with golden bubbles bursting to the surface, C.C. deliberately set her glass aside.

He glanced at her with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile.

She traced his smile with her fingertip, and he kissed it.

He kissed her palm, and her wrist, and her arm.

With a soft little gasp, she stroked his hair.

He dipped the tip of his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat.

C.C. dug her hands into his hair and tilted his head up. She stared at him with moistly parted lips as he slowly lifted his head and bent until his mouth hovered just over hers . . . and descended.

Their lips met, and at once they wrapped themselves around each other as close as they could. They kissed passionately, and as they did, her impatient fingers fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, and his hands tugged the pins roughly from her hair, so that when her mouth moved down to trace a wet trail across his chest, her tousled golden waves fell forward through his fingers to frame and hide her face. He dug his fingers through the silky strands and tugged gently until she lifted her eyes and lips to his, and he kissed her feverishly, wrapping his arms securely around her and guiding her onto her back. She smiled up at him, her bright fire-lit hair fanned out against the pure white fur in an effect both sensual and angelic.

"So, Babcock," he murmured in a low, seductive voice. "About this fur coat we're about to make wild, uncontrollable love on . . . "

"Mmm?" she murmured with a naughty smile, working her body against it temptingly.

"It's not one of your relatives is it?"

C.C. slapped his chest hard. "Niles!"

"Yeow! Violent little hussy! So you want to play rough?" He grinned, delighted.

"Yeah," she purred. "What if I do?"

"Merry Christmas, baby, you got it." Niles bent to kiss her, no longer interested in words.

Conveniently enough, the storm that had started in the graveyard erupted full force during the night, preventing them from leaving her apartment for days.

Which was okay, because the weather wasn't that great either.

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