Meant To Be

by

Caroline
(CarolSW128@aol.com)

Part 1: Without the Nanny

Fran sighed and stood in the middle of the bedroom. It had been almost two months since the funeral and the apartment seemed so empty without Danny’s yelling and messes. It seemed so empty without his hair all over the sink, without his underwear hanging on various places throughout the room. The apartment seemed so empty without Danny.

She had removed the underwear from the doorknobs and the lamps, she had cleaned up the messes in the kitchen and bathroom, and now she was preparing to pack his belongings and say good-bye to him for good. The past couple of months had been hard on her, saying good-bye to her husband, a man who, despite his many faults, she had still loved. She opened the first drawer and exposed his ratty T-shirts, still balled up and stuffed into the drawer from when she had tried to make him do his own laundry. She tossed the shirts into the empty box and moved on to the next drawer.

It would be three hours before all his things were packed. She walked through the one-bedroom flat and looked around. The apartment didn’t look empty, it looked…clean. The edge of her lip curled up in the beginnings of a smile. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was a start. She hadn’t smiled since Danny died.

In truth, however, she hadn’t smiled for a long time before that. She had waited a long time for Danny to marry her, and when he finally did, she had always felt something was missing, but she could never put her finger on it. But after the wedding she was stuck with a plethora of responsibilities and distractions that had taken away her chance to make her marriage really successful.

After the funeral she had taken over full ownership of the bridal shop and all the responsibilities that came with it. For the next six months, her life consisted only of maintaining the shop and paying the rent. She came home to an empty apartment every night. She read, she watched TV, and she thought. She did a lot of thinking. And after sitting alone in that apartment night after night, she realized that she was alone, but she wasn’t any lonelier. She felt no different that she had when Danny was alive, except the dread of him coming home late at night was gone.

Danny had been everything she had ever wanted in a husband. He had been a man. She understood now. She married him because she was in love with the idea of being married more she was actually in love with Danny. After being married to him for three years, their relationship had been nothing more than co-existence. Parallel living, she sometimes called it. It was hard, considering they spent almost every moment together, working and living side-by-side. But she never truly felt married to him. She had waited for him to become the doting husband she had always wanted and knew he could be, but he never was. He treated her like he treated all the girls in the shop, and only for the first few months after they had become newlyweds had she really felt like a wife, and that was only at night. But she had loved him. She had fallen in love with him in high school, and no matter what her feelings were for him when they were married, she still cared a lot about him, and his death had been very hard on her.

"Val, did the Martin order come in yet?" Fran looked over the spreadsheets and ruffled through the morning’s deliveries.

"Fran, it’s sitting on the counter right there." She looked up from the register. "What’s with you?"

"Nothing, I just couldn’t find the Martin order. Lay off." She went to the counter and unpacked the box. She ran her fingers over the lace on the dress. She wished the dress reminded her of her own wedding dress, but the sundress she wore in city hall wasn’t exactly elegant. She wiped the memory from her thoughts and hung up the dress.

Val watched the display. "That’s it. Fran we are going out tonight. We went out more when you were still married. You haven’t been out since…well, since the funeral. You’re thirty-three years old, your life is far from over." She paused. " C’mon, I miss my friend."

Fran could help but oblige her best friend’s whining. "Alright, alright. You win. We’ll do something tonight."

Val smiled. "Good."

That night they went to dinner, had a couple drinks at a bar, and did some guy watching. Fran realized that, at 33, her life had truly just begun. She wanted to enjoy the things that she had missed out on when she was attached to Danny. For the first time she realized that she didn’t need a man. She sure hadn’t needed Danny. He hadn’t provided the companionship that she was convinced came with marriage, and after going out that night, she realized that the only one who could make her happy was herself.

* * *

A knock on the door interrupted the silence that had filled Maxwell’s office.

"Come in." He said aloud without taking his eyes off his work.

Niles poked his head through the door. "Sir?"

"Yes, Niles, what is it?"

"I just thought you should know that Master Brighton has arrived from school."

"Thank you, Niles."

The butler closed the door behind him as he left the office. Brighton had been away at school for almost eight months. Niles was hoping that his boss would show some excitement at the return of his twelve-year-old son, but his response was typical. Ever since Sara had died, Brighton had been a difficult child. Maxwell had tried, but he just wasn’t capable of filling the hole that Sara had left in her child’s life. The harder to handle Brighton had become, the less patience Maxwell had for it. He had even given up on possibly finding a nanny to fill Sara’s maternal role, because every nanny he hired either quit or was fired within a week of being hired. Brighton began cutting school, being incorrigible to his elders, and began committing his petty crimes. That had been the last straw. Maxwell finally gave in and sent Brighton away to boarding school. It was a difficult move for him, but Brighton needed discipline that Maxwell was unable to provide, and if the boy was to succeed, he felt had no other option but to send him away.

Niles rushed to open the door for his boss’s son.

"Hello, Niles. Is Father home?" Brighton looked around hopefully.

"Yes, Master Brighton, he is in his office."

Brighton’s expression fell as he realized that his father had not come out to greet him. "Thank you. I will be up in my room." He sprinted up the stairs and locked himself in his room. Niles helped the chauffeur carry the boy’s belongings up the stairs and deposited them by his door.

He was coming down the stairs just as the front doorbell rang. He opened the door and found C.C. standing on the other side.

"Oh great. Do you have to ring the doorbell every time you come over? Why don’t you use the doggie door we installed for you?"

"Shut up." She stared at him searchingly. "You look a little buzzed. Have you been sniffing the Lysol again?" Without giving him a chance to respond, she smirked and made her way back to Maxwell’s office.

He rolled his eyes. What a witch. He took up his duster and finished the job he had started. He ran the feathers over the clock on the mantle. It was almost eight o’clock and it was getting dark. He began to worry about the girls. It wasn’t like them to stay out late like this. He thought about asking Mr. Sheffield if he knew where they might be, but changed his mind, knowing that Maxwell either didn’t know where they were or didn’t care.

His worries were appeased several minutes later when the girls walked in, side by side. Neither one of them had a smile on their face, which was characteristic of them. They each disappeared into their respective rooms without a word to either Niles or their father. But then again, they rarely spoke to anyone besides one another anyway. Margaret spent her days either doing homework or accompanying her younger sister out of the house. The sixteen-year-old girl did none of the things that a typical sixteen-year-old should do. Niles often wondered if she even had any friends. He doubted it. And after her mother’s death, poor Grace had developed more fears than he could count. She was afraid of anything and everything. And between her homework and taking care of her sister, Margaret didn’t have time for anything else. Her hair never came out of the ponytail she wore and Niles rarely saw her in anything other than her school uniform or khakis and polo shirts. It was such a waste, too, because underneath it all Niles was certain there was an incredibly beautiful woman who was yearning to come out.

It was another late night in the Mr. Sheffield’s office, but then again every night was. Tired of his mediocrity on Broadway, C.C. had convinced him to give up the work he loved as a producer and instead to go into investment. He had more money than ever, but was a prime example of money not buying happiness.

"Maxwell, darling, I think we should look into Baker & Morgan. Their potential seems to be unmatched by any other funds in the market." She walked over behind the desk and leaned over her partner. "What do you think?" She said into his ear.

Maxwell could feel her breath on his neck, and despite the fact that a beautiful woman was coming on to him, and he knew it, he felt nothing. It was as if he had been numb inside since Sara died. Nothing was able to stir in him the life that he had known when he had his late wife by his side.

"Sure C.C. I’m sure you’ve done the appropriate research for such a venture."

"Of course." She logged into her computer and initiated the trades. "We’re in."

Maxwell didn’t respond, he just rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses. The stack of business records on his desk would take the rest of the night to go through and it was well past eleven before they were done. As always, the children had dinner in silence in the dining room, their father’s chair vacant. They retired to bed early and Niles waited impatiently for C.C. to leave so he could disappear to his room as well. It was difficult, dealing with the changes in the Sheffield household since the loss of Mrs. Sheffield. Not only had the children changed, but his relationship with his boss had changes as well. They used to share a friendship that was rare between a butler and his master, but that friendship dissipated and now Maxwell’s conduct toward Niles was no different then it would have been toward any other servant.

He locked the door behind C.C. after she left and turned off the lights before retiring for the night. The house was silent, and despite the fact that it was full of people, it felt emptier than ever.

* * *

"Come on Fran, you have to. Please??" Val leaned over the bridal shop counter and clasped her hands together, her eyes pleading with her best friend, who was concentrating on the cash register and trying to ignore her.

Finally she spoke. "Val, I am NOT going on vacation. I have too many things to do here. I can’t take time off to schlep around the Caribbean."

"Sure you can. I’m sure Gina can take care of the store for a week while we’re gone. And I found a really good deal on hotels and everything. Fran, you need a break, you can’t keep doing ‘this,’" she gestured to the bridal shop, "for the rest of your life."

Val had hit a nerve and Fran looked at the floor. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. It might be nice to get away." She hadn’t been outside of Queens in a long time.

"Great! You won’t be sorry."

That next Tuesday they boarded the plane headed for the Caribbean in anticipation for a week’s worth of sun and relaxation.

* * *

"Sir, Master Brighton’s things are packed and in the car. Would you care to say good-bye before he leaves?" Brighton’s visit was over and he was returning to school in England. It had been a difficult two weeks for him, seeing his father no more than three times since he arrived. Niles had hoped that perhaps his boss would take time to at least say good-bye before the boy left, but it seemed as if they had been cut off from one another completely.

Maxwell looked up from his desk. "Yes, Niles, I’ll be right out."

Sure you will, Niles thought to himself. About an hour after your son has already left, you will.

"Sir, may I speak freely?" He had to say something.

"Yes, but at you own peril."

"Yes, why don’t you ride with Master Brighton to the airport? He came home to see you, but you’ve been so busy that I think he feels a little neglected. Maybe this will give you an opportunity to spend some time with him."

Normally Maxwell would have lectured Niles about overstepping his bounds, but what he said did make some sense.

"Perhaps you’re right. Tell C.C. I’ll be back in a couple of hours." He grabbed his coat and went to join his son in the limo.

It was a quiet ride, and Maxwell could feel the tension in the air. As he looked at the boy he had once known so well, he couldn’t think of one thing to say to him. Somewhere in the seven years after he lost his wife, he had managed to lose his children as well. But at this point, he didn’t know where to find them. The limo finally pulled up to the curb of the airport and Brighton jumped out, glad to finally be free of the limo that was turning into his own private torture. He had been careful to answer all of his father’s questions with one-word answers, to avoid having to talk to him any more than he had to. The chauffeur checked his bags and Maxwell prepared to leave, then thought better of it. Deciding to give it one more chance, he accompanied Brighton to his gate.

The plane was already boarding when they reached the gate and Brighton went to board without saying anything to the practical stranger who had escorted him. But he thought better of it and turned to him. Extending his hand, he said, "Good-bye, Father." Maxwell took the small hand in his own, the shake firm and confident. Brighton turned on a heel and left without a look back.

It had been a relatively uneventful trip, but Maxwell couldn’t help but feel somewhat defeated. As he stood there at the gate and watched the rest of the passengers board, he felt as if he had failed his son somewhere.

The gate cleared out, but moments later it was filled by the sun-kissed passengers arriving from the next jetway. Lost in his own thoughts, Maxwell idly watched the passengers as they filed through the door, his mind wandering to the days when his own family went on vacations together.

He glanced back at the gate and was snapped from his reverie at the sight of one of the passengers walking toward him from the plane. It must have been her flashy outfit that caught his eye, but it was something else that held his attention. It was as if an electrical charge had passed through him as life slowed down, just for a moment, and his eyes followed the slender woman. She had long, dark hair and striking features. She smiled; her friend must have said something funny. It was the biggest, brightest smile Maxwell had ever seen. As they passed, he couldn’t keep his eyes from following her down the corridor, but when he was finally able to clear his head and think straight, she was gone.

As they walked toward the baggage claim, Val leaned over and whispered to her friend, "Fran, I think some guy was checkin’ you out."

She smiled delightedly. "Hey, can you blame him? Who wouldn’t want to check out two chicks like us? I bet it was the outfit." She did a turn as they walked, the bright flowered skirt flaring from her legs. Ever since she had married Danny, her style had gone from trendy to drab. She hadn’t been motivated to look good while they were married, but now that she was single again she felt compelled to toss the chino skirts and sweater sets and go for something a little less conventional. It was another step on the road to finding out who she really was.

Meanwhile Max had returned to the house and hid himself in the office for the rest of the evening. This was nothing out of the ordinary to the rest of the family, but as he sat at his desk, his thoughts were not on business, but they were back in the airport, where, for a split second, he remembered what it was like to truly live again.

There was a knock at the door.

He sat up. "Come in."

Margaret opened the door slowly, as if she were afraid of what was on the other side. She stood in the doorway with her arms at her side, no emotion apparent on her face.

"Father, it appears that Grace has relapsed again."

"I see. I will be there in a moment."

She left and closed the door behind her, and he straightened the folders on his desk before going up to his youngest child’s room. When he got there, Margaret was already there, seated beside the motionless child.

He peered down at her. Grace laid there with her arms draped at her sides, her eyes open, staring at a non-existent spot on the ceiling.

"Grace!" He stood at the foot of the bed and demanded her attention. "Grace, this is you father. I want you to sit up and look at me." But she continued to lie there without any sign that she had heard him at all.

Maxwell had encountered this situation before. It happened every now and then, although recently it was happening more often. Grace would shut off the outside world, her fears so overwhelming that she had no choice but cut herself off from reality and hide somewhere in the back of her mind, almost as if she were in a trance.

"Shall I call the doctor?" Niles appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

Niles found the number of her child psychiatrist and dialed it up. It was the doctor’s second house call of the month, and as she visited with the child, she knew that her services would be useless unless little Grace got what she needed most: the love and compassion of her family, especially her father. But the doctor also knew that was a tall order, considering the fact that although the father was home when she arrived, she dealt with the butler concerning the care of the child.

"She should be fine by morning," the doctor said as Niles helped her with her coat. She buttoned it and then looked sadly at him. "She’s not going to get any better unless her situation changes. She has the same fears as someone who is in the world alone without anyone to depend on. And being a child as young as she is, that can be devastating. To put it simply, she just needs to know that she’s loved."

Niles nodded and the doctor knew that he understood. "I’ll do my best."

She gave him an encouraging smile and left then, leaving Niles alone with the deteriorating family.

* * *

"Val, I was thinking. What would you think if I sold the bridal shop?" Fran plopped down on the couch and placed a bag of potato chips between them.

"Sold it? Why would you want to do that?" Val commandeered the bag.

"I dunno. It just feels like a piece of Danny, ya know. I just feel like I need to get out. What you said kinda made sense. I don’t want work in a bridal shop for the rest of my life, especially since I don’t plan to get married anytime soon."

"You don’t??"

"No way. I’ve been with Danny for as long as I can remember. I never got a chance to date, just for the fun of going out, and married life wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. I wanna be on my own for a while."

"Sure, but why do you have to sell the shop to do that?"

"I hate having to worry about the day to day operations of the store, having to pay the building lease, utilities, etc. I’m asking your advice because you work there too, and I know this affects more than just me."

"I think it’s a great idea. And don’t worry about me, I can find another job. It might be nice having a job that pays more than minimum wage." She grinned.

"Hey! I thought you were okay with the pay!"

"No way. The only reason I worked there was to help you out. I had fun working there with you."

"So did I…" Fran said wistfully.

Val could see her slipping back. "But don’t get me wrong! I think it’s definitely time to get out. You don’t want to get stuck in a rut. But what are you going to do after you sell it?"

"That’s the thing. I don’t know. They say you should do something that you’re good at, obviously, but something you also enjoy."

"Hmm… "Val thought for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Oh! I know!"

"What?"

"You’ve always liked eating, and you’re real good at that!"

"Val, I can’t be a professional eater…but nice try," she smiled at the idea as she stuffed three chips in her mouth.

"Oh. Okay. Well, what about kids? You like kids," she suggested.

"Yeah, but what could I do that involved kids?"

"Um, you could work at a day care."

"I like kids, Val, not poop."

"Okay, so I guess being a nanny is out of the question."

"Definitely. Ha! Can you imagine me, a nanny??" They laughed aloud at the thought.

"Well, I can’t think of anything else."

"Why don’t we check the classified, see if there’s anything interesting in there." She grabbed the paper off the table and carried it back to the couch. She sifted through the different sections looking for the want ads. Val paged through a magazine as Fran began making circles with a red marker. She glanced over at Val, who was absorbed in a recent issue of Forbes.

"Since when do you read Forbes, Val?"

"Since I found out that it’s full of pictures of rich handsome men."

She couldn’t argue with that. "Good reason."

Val sighed. "You know, life would be so much easier if I could just fine one of these guys and marry him."

"Well you can’t, cuz they’re all already married and sleeping with their secretaries." Fran looked enlightened for a second, as if she had found her vocational calling, then naughtily shook her head and went back to the want ads.

"Oh, he’s cute," Val whistled aloud.

"Who?" Fran was curious.

Val read the caption beneath the photo. "’David Wansted meets with the Chairman of the Federal Reserve to discuss monetary policy.’ What’s ‘monetary policy?’" She asked.

"It’s when they decide how much money everyone has. Gimme that." She snatched the magazine from Val and looked at the picture. "Val! This guy is like seventy years old!"

"Yeah, but he’s that much closer to death. Someone has to inherit his money."

"You’re sick. Meanwhile, who’s this?" She looked at the caption. "’Maxwell Sheffield has stunned the investment community with his business, which has produced returns that were once thought impossible by modern investors.’ Wow, this guy is cute, rich, and smart."

"Maybe he has kids and needs nanny." Val joked.

"Better yet, maybe he needs a secretary!" Fran closed the magazine and looked at the paper, now covered in red circles. "Well, somewhere on here is the job for me, I just have to find it."

The job for her finally did come up. She sold the store, for even more than she had hoped, put the profits in an interest bearing savings account, and went to work on Broadway. It was actually a cousin of hers who suggested it. He himself was in the fashion business, and she assisted him during a costume fitting. She was a natural at picking the right colors and styles for a particular scene, so he recommended her for a small upcoming production. She was extremely nervous about opening night, but the producer seemed pleased with her work and she knew she had found her niche. The show was successful enough to maintain its scheduled run and the adrenaline rush she experienced with each before a show was almost addicting. It was as if she were the one going on stage, not just her costuming and, in a few instances, her make-up jobs. Many of the actors in the play were kids, so Val had been right about being able to work with kids. She loved it. They made her laugh and taught her a thing or two about show business and she taught them a thing or two about life.

One day, rehearsal ran short and Fran offered to take the kids who were done for the day to the park, for a chance to get away from work. A couple of the other gals she worked with came along and they watched as the kids fooled around at the playground.

After an exhausting game of touch football, which Fran was worse than bad at since she no athletic ability, she sat down to take a rest. Finally catching her breath she noticed two young girls walking toward the bench.

"Come on, Grace, let’s sit down." Fran watched as the older girl coaxed the younger one towards the bench where she sat. The little one seemed to be in a trance of some sort, and when she sat down, she stared out at nothing.

Margaret sat next to her, releasing her hand once they were seated. It was aggravating, taking care of her sister like this, but she felt like she owed it to her mother to be there for the broken child.

Fran eyed them curiously. The older girl was very pretty, but she looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. The younger girl was absolutely adorable, but the sad look on her face was almost too much for her to bear.

"Is she alright?" Fran pointed at the little girl.

"Yes, she’s fine, thank you." Annoyed with the inquiry, Margaret was short with her answer. She was afraid to move Grace before she was ready, and instead wished the woman would leave them alone. She watched as Grace continued to stare out, obviously unaware of the intrusion.

Fran felt compelled to say something more. "There are some kids over there playing tag," she pointed at the child actors running in the open space. "If you’d like they’d love to have you join them."

"No, thank you. We are perfectly fine here."

Boy, for a girl who appeared to be in her mid teens, she certainly seemed mature for her age.

"I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, you just seem unhappy about something. If I can I’d love to help." There was something about these girls that cried out to her that they needed someone.

"You can’t help." Margaret said sadly.

Fran decided to try the little girl. "What about you, Sweetie?" She placed hand gently on her shoulder. "Is there anything I can get you? Would you like some ice cream?"

"Don’t talk to her!!" Margaret jumped up and screamed. But where Grace normally would have recoiled at the touch of a stranger, she turned to Fran, stared at her for a second, then what appeared to be a small smile crept onto her face and she nodded.

"Ice cream?" Fran repeated.

The girl nodded again.

Margaret watched in awe. "How’d you do that?" Locked in another daze, Grace hadn’t responded to anyone for almost 72 hours.

"Ice cream is the universal language of kids. Sit tight and I’ll be right back." She walked over to the ice cream stand by the bench and bought three soft serve ice-cream cones. She was relieved that both girls were still there when she returned. She handed one cone to Grace, who took it eagerly and began licking happily, and handed one to Margaret, who eyed it suspiciously and then reluctantly took it.

"So how old are you two?" Fran tried to make conversation.

"I’m sixteen, and she’s nine."

Fran tried to mask her surprise. From the way the tiny child behaved, she would have guessed her to be no older than six or seven.

"So do you come to the park a lot?"

"Yes. The fresh air is good for her."

Fran was aching to know what was wrong with the small child, who was entirely occupied by the ice cream, but it seemed like a sore spot and she was careful to avoid it. "Well, this is the first time I’ve been to the park in a long time. I came with them," she pointed to the kids. "They’re actors in a Broadway show and I design their costumes."

The girl’s eyes lit up. "You work on Broadway??"

"Yes. Do you like theater?"

"Not really, it’s just…" she stopped, then decided to go ahead and say it, "…it’s just that my dad used to work on Broadway."

The girl’s eyes reverted back to the sadness that had consumed them moments ago, before Fran saw the hint of light and joy that was evident behind her troubled features. Fran guessed that her father must have passed away, judging from the sorrow that accompanied her statement. So she was careful not to push.

"Was he an actor?" Fran asked softly.

"No, he produced plays. But he quit after my mom died." Margaret didn’t know why she was telling this to the strange woman seated next to them, it was the first time she had really said anything about it in the seven years since the accident. But there was something about this woman that made her feel comfortable, more comfortable than she had felt in a long time. Remembering that Grace was between them, she was careful not to say any more about her mother, and changed the subject. "You’re a costume designer?"

"Yes. Well, I’m not a designer, per se, but I get to decide what each actor wears in the play and I get them ready before each performance to make sure everything fits and works."

"Wow. That’s sounds like fun."

"It is." An idea suddenly popped into her head. "If you live nearby, why don’t you come by the theater tomorrow? I’ll be choosing the costumes for an upcoming play and I could always use another opinion."

"I, uh…I would love to," she really would have liked to go, "but my father would never permit it."

"What if I asked him?"

"No! No, don’t do that. Then he’ll know we were at the park."

"He doesn’t know you’re here?"

"No, he thinks we’re at a piano lesson. In fact, he thinks we’re at a piano lesson every day when we usually come here instead, to the park. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t played the piano more than two days of my entire life."

"Won’t he get suspicious when he figures out that you can’t play the piano?" Fran asked warily.

"No, he would never take the time to listen—" Margaret slipped and Fran realized that not only were these kids suffering from the loss of their mother, but it appeared that they were being neglected by their father.

Recognizing that she had already said too much, Margaret finished the story. "Our butler drives us here everyday and keeps an eye on us while Father is under the impression that he is taking us to our lesson. That’s him over there." She pointed to a limousine idling across the park, a man in a suit leaning up against the hood. Fran thought he looked like the secret service with the sunglasses he was wearing.

"Well, if you really want to visit the theater, perhaps we can ask you butler if he could bring you there instead of to the park tomorrow."

"Well, maybe…"

"Come on, let’s go ask." She stood up and addressed the little girl. "Come on Grace, let’s go talk to your butler." Grace extended a sticky hand and slipped it into Fran’s, and Margaret still couldn’t understand how she got Grace to take to her so quickly.

Niles watched from his spot next to the car as the trio approached. He had seen the entire exchange, and in the beginning he had started to walk over to make sure the girls were okay. He stopped when he saw the woman talk to Grace and saw Grace actually respond! He figured they were okay and just kept a close eye on them from where he stood by the car. Now they were coming towards them, Grace holding onto the woman’s hand, and Margaret actually looked somewhat…happy?

When they got to the limo, Fran extended a free hand. "Hi, I’m Fran Imperiali."

Niles stared at her, convinced that the voice her heard couldn’t have possibly come out of the mouth of the attractive woman standing before him.

He took that hand and shook it. "I’m Niles."

"Nice to meet ya, Niles. I’ve been talking to these to enchanting young ladies here, and they tell me that you’re the guy to speak to about maybe letting them come see a fitting."

"Excuse me?" He didn’t know what she was talking about.

Fran realized that she hadn’t exactly made herself clear. "I’m sorry. I work on Broadway and Margaret here expressed some interest in costuming, so I thought I’d show her around a little. I’d love it if she came, too." She raised the hand that was still firmly attached to Grace’s.

Normally Niles would have said no to such a request, but the girls seemed so taken by her in such a short time that Niles decided to let them go.

"Wonderful!" She gave Niles directions to the theater and agreed to meet them there at the same time tomorrow. Margaret climbed into the limo, but Fran practically had to peel her hand free from Grace’s tiny grasp. The girl looked lost and scared as Fran let her go, but she bent down to her level and patted her shoulders. "Don’t worry, little Gracie. I’ll see you again tomorrow." Grace smiled softly and turned to join her sister in the car. Niles watched as Fran won the attention of the troubled child.

Once the girls were safely inside, Fran turned to the butler. "Thanks, Niles."

He shook her hand again. "No, thank you, Miss Imperiali." He was grateful to anyone that put smiles on the girls’ faces.

She looked at him strangely for a moment, then smiled. "See you tomorrow."

"Absolutely."

She watched them drive off and knew that she was getting herself into more than she had bargained for that day.

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