A Fran/Max novella: When Max discovers a secret Fran has kept from him for years, how will he handle it? What impact will it have on their marriage? All comments, complaints, etc. are welcome.

As per usual, all characters of ‘The Nanny’ are copy righted to Sony Pictures, Tri-Star Television, High School Sweethearts, Sternin & Fraser's Ink, Inc. and CBS Television. All other characters are copy righted to A. C. Browner.

All Yiddish words are in italics and their definitions are at the end of the story. Words that are repeated are italicized once. Warning: This story contains sexual content.

Secrets & Surprises

by

Escritora69
(TgrTrks@aol.com)

Maxwell dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and made his way upstairs. After weeks of negotiations with network executives, the show was finally on track. He smiled at the thought of surprising Fran with a spur of the moment getaway.

Although he never doubted their love for one another, lately they seemed to be moving in different directions, drifting away from each other.

Unknotting his tie, Maxwell called out to her as he entered their bedroom. He did a quick search of the bathroom before stepping onto the balcony.

Realizing he was alone, Maxwell changed out of his suit and into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. As he closed the door to the walk-in closet, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

He still looked good for his age. His gray hair flourished, weaving its way through his black curly locks. He smiled, running a hand through his hair. Between Fran, our family, and life in general, the odds of my hair graying faster than normal multiplied.

Maxwell chuckled. If Fran knew what I was thinking, she’d kill me. At the sound of the front door opening and closing, he headed back downstairs.

"Fran?"

"Sorry dad, it’s just us," Jonah replied for himself and his sister. His short curly dark brown hair had a slight reddish tinge, the result of spending time under the California sun. Their backpacks rested on the floor as Eve shuffled through the mail.

"Have you seen your mother?"

"Not since this morning," Eve replied tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. "Try downstairs in the basement. I found her there last week." She kissed her father on the cheek and followed her brother upstairs.

Maxwell paused midway down the steps when he spotted Fran sitting on Yetta and Sammy’s old blue and white tweed sofa. Boxes that were previously unopened since their move from New York surrounded her. A faint smile crossed Maxwell’s face as he observed his wife.

Fran’s dark curly semi-voluminous hair spilled over her shoulders. The band of her black skirt held the navy and cream pinstripe silk blouse she wore.

Her legs were crossed; one black stiletto mule dangled precariously from her foot. She was completely engrossed in the book she held, unaware of anyone or anything around her.

"Sweetheart," Maxwell said continuing down the steps, "what on earth are you doing down here?"

She looked up from her book. Her eyes were bright, matching her smile. "Hi sweetie! How long have you been home?"

"About a half an hour. You didn’t answer my question." He peered into the nearest box finding stacks of books in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.

"I was just looking through some of my old journals. I didn’t realize I had so many."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you looking through your old journals?"

Fran opened her mouth but an explanation stalled in her throat. "I like rereading my old diaries," she replied finally finding her voice. "You know just to see how my life has changed over the years."

She busied herself with the boxes in front of her. Fran knew that if she met his questioning gaze, he would know she was not being completely honest with him.

The oddity of her action and the explanation she had given him sent off a warning signal to his brain. Why is she acting so peculiar? Better still, what in the world is she keeping from me?

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you want something?"

"Oh yes. I came looking for you because my calendar is clear for the remainder of the week. I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately and I wanted to take you away."

"Max, that’s a wonderful idea," Fran said flinging her arms around his neck. "But what about Jonah and Eve? We can’t leave them by themselves."

"Leave everything to me. I want to spend time alone with my favorite girl." Maxwell cradled her jaw in the palm of his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers in a slow, soft kiss. When she opened her eyes, his smile reflected Fran’s. "I’ve missed you."

Her hands moved over his arms, kneading his muscles as she made her way to his shoulders. She caressed his neck, threading her slender fingers through his hair.

As her nails grazed his scalp, she pressed her hand to the back of his head, forcing his mouth to hers. Fran’s lips parted, opening her mouth wider as he caressed her tongue with his.

Maxwell’s hand flattened against the curve of her neck. He lowered his hand, pushing his palm against her breast. His other hand clamped at her waist, drawing her body into his.

"Fran," he breathed, nuzzling her neck. "Oh Fran, it feels like it's been forever since I touched you, since we’ve been together like this." His fingers slipped between her uncrossed legs, brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

She shifted, guiding his hand until he reached her center. Caressing her with delicate strokes, he maneuvered around her panties and slipped his fingers inside her body.

Fran gasped, arching her body against his hand. "I know Max, I know." She closed her eyes, melting into the pleasure of his touch. "I’ve missed you too."

A low throaty purr escaped from Fran as Maxwell pushed her into the sofa. She moved her hands over every inch of his frame, guided by familiarity.

His growl of pleasure mirrored hers as he nestled his body between her legs. Fusing his mouth to hers, Maxwell’s hand slipped from her center, his fingertips stroking her thigh.

"Mom, dad, are you down there?"

Maxwell pulled from Fran, staring into her dark eyes. He swallowed, struggling to control his breathing.

"Yes Grace. We’ll be right up."

They waited for her footsteps to fade before rising from the sofa. Fran and Maxwell straightened their clothes, communicating with only a stray touch or kiss. She slipped her arms under his, wrapping them securely around his waist.

"I can’t wait to get you alone," Fran said, "with no children or business partners or studio heads to disturb us."

"Can we leave now?" A wide smile spread across her face. Tilting her head, Fran closed her eyes as Maxwell’s lips met hers in a soft kiss. Brushing his fingers against her cheek, he said, "Let’s go upstairs."

He bent his head toward her and kissed her again. Lacing their arms around each other’s waist, they climbed the stairs in a comfortable and familiar silence.

As he made their travel arrangements, Maxwell wondered what compelled Fran comb through her journals. When he closed the door to his office, Maxwell decided to ask her during their holiday.

* * * * *

Maxwell watched Fran as she peered out the window into the flawless summer sky. As the plane made its way toward Sacramento, he joined their hands together.

"Are you going to tell me where we’re going or are you going to remain a man of mystery?"

"You’re not getting a word out of me."

She fused her mouth to his in a quick passionate kiss. "I have ways of making you talk."

"Why do you think I’m looking forward to this weekend?" he replied returning her kiss.

They weaved their way through the crowd, pushing pass the people shuffling through the airport. Linking her arm with his, they picked up their luggage and headed to the rental car counter. Maxwell finished the paperwork and slipped the car keys to Fran as they made their way across the parking lot.

"Why are you handing me the keys?" she asked as he loaded their bags in the trunk.

"I’m going to read the directions of our location to you."

"You think you’re so smart don’t you?"

Sliding into the passenger’s seat, he replied, "Trust me Fran. You’re gong to have a marvelous time."

* * * * *

Traffic was relatively light as Fran headed toward her unknown destination. She knew it was no use asking any further questions. Whatever Maxwell had in store for her, it would unfold on his timetable.

She pulled into the driveway of an old Victorian mansion. He watched her face as she took in the elegant bed and breakfast and its surroundings.

"Oh Max," she said stepping from the car, "it’s beautiful. How did you ever find this place?"

Smiling at her illuminated face, he replied, "That’s my secret," and guided her into the lobby.

* * * * *

Her eyes widened in awe as they stepped inside the room. As Fran headed toward their bedroom, Maxwell explored the kitchen. Opening the cabinets, he found it fully stocked with plates, glasses, and utensils, everything they would need for the weekend.

"Max, wait until you see the bedroom," she said joining him in the dining room. He slipped his arm around her waist as they looked out the window at the neatly manicured grounds. "The bedroom is decorated with the most beautiful antique furniture with a huge canopy bed. And the bathroom," she gasped, "is just gorgeous."

"It’s a decent sized suite," he said, "perfect for the weekend. Let’s get settled."

Maxwell stretched across the bed, watching Fran unpack. He had known her for twenty-one years and to him, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. He was distracted from his thoughts when Fran joined him on the bed.

"Should I ask what that silly grin plastered on your face means or should I leave well enough alone?"

"Just revisiting the past darling."

"Care to elaborate?"

His ran the tip of his finger along her jaw line. Questions about what she was doing in the basement resurfaced in his mind.

"Fran?"

"Yes?"

Yielding to his better nature, Maxwell sighed. "Let’s go to the store and stock up for the weekend."

* * * * *

"There’s a restaurant not far from here," Maxwell said as they put the groceries away. "Do you want me to surprise you with my culinary skills or would you prefer to go out?"

Fran rinsed a handful of strawberries. Offering him a berry, she asked, "Since when do you know how to cook?"

"I spent a lot of time in the kitchen when I was a child - at least before Mother found out. Another reason to send me off to boarding school; so I wouldn’t be influenced by the lower classes," he said making quotation marks around the last two words he uttered.

"You’ve never cooked for me – well, outside the bedroom." She smiled. "That’s not exactly true. Maybe I should say you’ve never cooked food for me."

Maxwell blushed at Fran’s suggestive statement. "It’s not that I haven’t wanted to darling, I just don’t have the time like I did when I was younger. But I promise I’ll make it up to you."

"A man of hidden talents," she said slipping her arms around his waist. "Have any other secrets you’re not sharing with me?"

Questions about her time in the basement returned. Should I bring this up now? Do I really want to know what she’s keeping from me? Why won’t she tell me what’s going on?

Maxwell wrapped his arms around her. "Look at it this way. I’ve got to keep you interested. You might become bored and want to trade me in."

"Bored with you? Never." She pressed her lips against his. "Let’s go out to eat. You can impress me tomorrow."

* * * * *

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee stirred Fran from her sleep. Slithering her arm from under the sheet, she turned the clock toward her. Drawing the bed covers around her, she attempted to go back to sleep.

Even away from home, I can’t sleep late. Her eyes snapped open. I forgot to call home. Fran grabbed her robe and rushed from the bedroom.

Maxwell was mixing ingredients for an omelet when he saw Fran rush by. "Sweetheart?"

She appeared in the doorway as quickly as she moved past it. "Can’t talk now. Got to check on the kids."

"Fran, I’ve done that already."

"What?"

"I said I’ve done that already. When I woke up this morning, I realized that neither one of us called Niles or CC to let them know we arrived safely. I spoke with the children an hour ago."

She held her hand to her chest and sighed. "Thank God. How is everyone?"

"The children are fine." Maxwell glanced at his watch. "Jonah, Eve, and Madeline should be on their way to school. Niles wasn’t too worried. His guess for our not calling was that since it’s been fifteen years since our last production, we were busy working on a sequel."

Fran laughed. "It’s nice to know things never change with Niles."

"Where are you going?" Maxwell asked when she started away from the kitchen.

"I’ll be back. I’m going to hop in the shower."

"Are you trying to seduce me Mrs. Sheffield?"

Letting the robe slip from her shoulders, Fran winked and replied, "Always."

Maxwell was absorbed in the newspaper when Fran re-entered the kitchen. She pulled down the paper long enough to give him a quick kiss before settling across from him.

"Everything looks wonderful. Are you sure you didn’t sneak downstairs when I was in the shower?"

"I beg your pardon? Do you doubt my cooking abilities?"

"I don’t doubt any of your abilities Max." Fran plunged her fork into the plate. "Oh my God," she said finishing her breakfast, "this is delicious. I mean it’s really good."

"It’s so nice you have faith in my abilities sweetheart," Maxwell replied sarcastically and resumed reading the paper. She reached for a slice of toast and plucked his newspaper. "What was that for?"

"For being a smart ass."

"I though you liked my smart ass."

Fran smiled. "I can’t believe that some one with your proper upbringing would display this kind of behavior. I don’t know who could possibly be influencing you."

"Maybe it’s the meshugeneh woman who’s running her foot up my leg."

"You know I’ve been suspicious of her. I think she’s after you."

"Really? I might have to take her up on her offer."

He caught her foot and slowly began to caress her arch. She fought to control her breathing as Maxwell’s hand moved up her leg.

"Don’t start something you can’t finish."

He smiled at Fran’s faltering restraint. "Who says I can’t?"

"You are so wrong," she moaned softly.

"Want to see how wrong I am?"

* * * * *

Maxwell felt the reverberation of Fran’s contented hum against his fingers as he stroked her throat. Kissing her temple, he asked, "What was that about starting something I couldn’t finish?"

"I never said you couldn’t. I told you, I didn’t doubt any of your abilities."

He laughed and pulled her into a kiss. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"We can stay in bed," she replied lightly kissing his chest. "Or we could we explore the city."

"In the mood for shopping?"

"It’s one of three things I’m always in the mood for. And since we’ve already done two, the very least we can do is shop."

He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her. Draping her leg across his thigh, she pressed her body into his, returning his kiss. Maxwell felt himself sinking into a whirlpool of desire.

"It’s difficult to go out if neither one of us is getting dressed," he managed to say between kisses.

"Well if you’re going to insist," Fran said sliding out of bed. She was almost to the bathroom when he decided to join her.

* * * * *

Fran and Maxwell exchanged greetings with a few of the guests as they made their way through the dining room. After talking to the manager about the local attractions, they left the inn and headed downtown.

They spent the entire day sightseeing, wandering lazily through the city. Fran stopped in the local boutiques, picking out different gifts for the family. She smiled at the thought that her family included Niles, CC, and their daughter Madeline and had for quite some time.

Maxwell caught a glimpse of Fran as she browsed through the store, completely unaware of him watching her. He smiled as she selected each item with care. He was in awe of the warmth and generosity of her nature, which seemed to have multiplied over the years.

His mind drifted back to when he found her in the basement surrounded by boxes. His thoughts grew dark as he once again wondered what caused her to rehash the past.

He had to broach the subject with her soon. His thoughts threatened to spill from his mouth without really knowing what he wanted to say. Maxwell’s consciousness pulled him back to reality when Fran thumped him on the forehead.

"Now that I have your attention, I’ll repeat my question. Did you want to grab lunch?"

"That depends. Are you going to abuse me again?"

She pulled his head down and lightly kissed his forehead. "Only the kind you like."

He closed his eyes to control the impure thoughts that flooded his brain. "Yes, let’s have lunch."

They settled at an outdoor café that overlooked the marina. After the waitress took their order, Fran laced Maxwell’s fingers with her own.

"I’m glad we went away. I miss spending time alone with you."

"I miss being alone with you as well. When the show starts filming, I know I will not have as much time with you as I would like. I just don’t want you to forget that you and the children are the most important people in my life."

"Just as long as you don’t forget it, we’ll be okay."

What’s stopping you, Maxwell thought. His attention focused on the internal battle of wanting to know and not wanting to know what Fran was keeping from him.

He knew from previous experiences that a minor argument could lead to a larger one. This one issue could set off a chain reaction that could possibly drive them apart instead of bringing them closer.

"Max, are you all right?"

"Of course I am."

"I’m worried about you. What are you so preoccupied with?"

"Constant thoughts of you my darling," he replied pressing her hand gently to his lips. "You have invaded my heart and soul and there’s no way I’d ever want to purge myself of you."

It’s not a complete lie, Maxwell reasoned. I hope this will buy me some time before I talk to her.

"Max," Fran asked swirling her finger around the edge of the glass, "what kind of thoughts were you having?"

"Wait until tonight Mrs. Sheffield."

* * * * *

It was twilight by the time Maxwell and Fran entered their room. They dropped their purchases, each collapsing into the nearest chair.

"As long as I’ve known you, I cannot comprehend why you’re never utterly exhausted after your shopping excursions."

"It’s the thrill of the hunt. It’s a euphoric experience. Think of it like making love. It’s something we do all the time yet each time is unique and different than the last."

"Should I be angry or flattered that you compared our love making to shopping?"

She pushed herself from her chair and slid into his lap. "Believe me, it was a compliment. Now what are we going to do for dinner?"

"I suppose I could whip us up a little something."

"That’s true. After all, I did survive breakfast."

"Fran!"

"Just kidding sweetie." Pressing her lips against his ear, she whispered, "Let me make it up to you."

"I will," he replied encircling his arms around her. "But let me feed you first. You’ll need your strength later."

* * * * *

Maxwell brushed the curtains aside, staring into the dismal Sacramento sky. The morning, which held the promise of a spectacular summer day, quickly turned cold and unfriendly by the afternoon. He sighed, letting the curtains fall back in place.

As Maxwell sipped his tea, he slowly became aware of the silence that engulfed their suite. He checked his watch and was shocked to find that it was mid-afternoon. Setting the newspaper aside, Maxwell headed toward the bedroom.

He paused in the doorway, watching Fran sleep. As he drew closer to the bed, he recognized the book that lay just out of reach as one of the many journals she pulled from the boxes a few days ago.

Kneeling on the bed, Maxwell was careful not to disturb her. As he scanned her resting frame, illicit ideas of how to disturb her dominated in his thoughts. Maybe later. A smile crept across his face. Definitely later.

He slipped the book from the bed and was about to place it on the nightstand when curiosity got the better of him. Maxwell convinced himself that he was not invading her privacy.

He was Fran’s husband and over the past twenty-one years, they shared friendship, hopes, thoughts, and dreams not to mention five children and their marital bed.

Have we shared everything? Do I really have the right to go poking about in her past? His conscious warned him, but ignoring his reasonable side, Maxwell began to read. She changed their names but the situation left little doubt that this was about himself and Fran.

Maxwell stared, horrified by Fran’s words. Is this what she’s been hiding? Had she contemplated my murder and her suicide during our courtship? Had I hurt her that deeply?

Fran’s eyes fluttered open. She stretched, looking at her watch. It can’t be. I’ve been asleep for almost four hours? She reached for her book only to find an empty space. Her eyes scanned the room until she fell upon the sight of Maxwell reading her book.

Anger swept through her mind, unable to process the scene before her. She was at a loss for words behind his violation. He was still unaware that Fran was no longer sleeping until she spoke.

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?"

The book tumbled from his hands at the sound of her voice. He shivered at the mix of hurt and anger reflected in her eyes. Fran slid off the bed and picked the book off the floor. Maxwell was flushed with embarrassment. His mind refused to string a coherent thought together.

"Fran, I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - it’s just that - " He stopped. There was no way he could explain his intrusion of her privacy. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you why you’ve spent so much time in the basement lately."

"So you’d thought the answer would be in my book instead of asking me directly?"

"I know I should have asked you and I’m very sorry Fran but I didn’t know what to do."

"I can’t believe you would do this to me." Drawing a deep breath, she asked, "How much have you read?"

"I didn’t really read that much." He paused and recollected his thoughts. "No, I’m not going to lie to you. I read a few pages."

"Maxwell, my writing is very personal."

"I’m so sorry darling," he implored, "please forgive me."

He drew her in his arms, praying she’d forgive him. As he cradled her in his arms, Fran’s words troubled him but he wasn’t sure why. She never mentioned the writing like he intruded on her private thoughts. It wasn’t personal like a journal. She referred to it as her book.

"What did you think?"

"What?"

"What did you think about what you read? Did you like it?"

"I don’t know what to say. I’m just so surprised."

Fran moved away from him. "I knew you wouldn’t like my story."

Story? Maxwell turned her to face him. "You’re writing?"

"Yes."

"I don’t understand. Why is it such a big secret?"

"You wouldn’t understand."

"Well explain it to me so I can."

Fran paced the floor. She knew Maxwell would find out. It was only a matter of time. Sitting on the side of the bed, she patted the empty space beside her. He settled next to Fran, waiting for her to begin.

"Max, you know I love you."

"Of course Fran," he replied, taking her hand in his. "I love you too."

"Please, let me finish this without interruptions. I love you. I love our family but there are so many emotions surging through me. My life is changing. Maggie has her own family, Brighton has his career, Gracie has school, and the twins are almost at the point in their lives where they don’t really need me anymore. I need to channel the emptiness I feel in my life in a positive direction. I think I found my outlet in writing."

"Didn’t you think I’d understand? You could have told me about it."

"No I couldn’t."

"Why not?"

She looked into his eyes, hoping that he would understand the logic behind her reasoning.

"You had the privilege of attending the best schools, receiving the best education, and enhancing your knowledge through your travels. I wasn’t the best student and only after I met and fell in love with you did my world open up."

"I may have been privileged by my education and wealth but you were privileged by the love of your family and friends. Your education was through life experience; a grounded reality that can never be obtained in any learning institution or by any amount of money."

She lowered her eyes, watching their intertwined fingers. "As long as we’ve known each other, as long as we’ve been married, there are times that I feel so inadequate around you and our friends. I couldn’t risk letting you read something I wrote because I was afraid you’d think less of me and see me as that simple girl from Queens who showed up on your door step twenty-one years ago."

"Fran, you should never be ashamed of your background nor should you feel inadequate because of it. We are compliments to each other. We are two halves that became whole. You should know that I would support you in any endeavor you wish to pursue. Besides, I fell in love with that girl when she boldly and provocatively made her way down the staircase in my home wearing that shocking red gown," Maxwell replied.

"Sometimes I feel a bit overshadowed by you. There are times, even now, that I’m in awe of you."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You shouldn’t. You are an intelligent beautiful woman. You have a gift, a knack for understanding people and situations. That gives you a view of life that most people don’t have. I think writing is an excellent outlet for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Fran from what I read, you’ve got real potential. Don’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of your dreams and desires. That includes family."

"I’m so lucky to have a gracious and understanding husband," she said and kissed his cheek.

"I am the lucky one Fran. You breathed life into this soulless shell of a man and saved me from myself. You rescued our eldest children and healed us to make us whole. My fortunes multiplied when you became my wife and presented me with the gift of our youngest children. And with these blessings, I shall forever be in your debt. You have my love for eternity."

"See, that’s what I mean!" Fran said rising from the bed in frustration. Leaning against the windowsill, she cast her eyes to the floor. "Look how you express your feelings for me. I can never do that."

He rose from the bed to stand in front of her. Maxwell lifted her chin, forcing her eyes meet his.

"Yes you can. You can do anything you set your mind to. When you write, you speak from experience, from the heart. The mark of a great writer is the ability to draw readers into their world and share their failures and triumphs, their loves and losses. Maybe you should join a writing group or take some writing courses."

"You wouldn’t mind?"

"Of course not. Joining a writing group or attending classes could be the inspiration and confidence you need to work on your writing. Sweetheart, you didn’t need to hide this from me. I’m behind you one hundred percent!" He kissed her, cradling her face in his hands. "And in spite of what you think, our children, all of our children need you. I need you. Niles, CC, and Madeline need you too."

Tilting her head to the side, Fran replied, "Niles and Madeline maybe. I’m not to sure about CC."

Maxwell laughed. He was happy to see a smile on his wife’s face again.

"All I’m saying is that our lives are interwoven and you play a significant part in it."

Fran kissed Maxwell. "Thank you for putting things in perspective."

"Anytime darling." They remained wrapped in a comfortable silence, happily bound by the depth and security of their love. "Fran?"

"Yes Max?"

"Did I really – Had you thought of – I mean over our relationship?"

She pulled back to look at him. "Can you ask a complete question?"

He closed his eyes to refocus his question. Opening his eyes, Maxwell looked at Fran and began again.

"Had you really thought of harming me or yourself because of the difficulties in our courtship?"

"First of all, they were your difficulties and second, no I didn’t. I just borrowed things from the past and used a little creative license."

"What would you have done?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

Fran studied Maxwell. She was torn between telling the truth and telling him something he’d want to hear.

"Does it really matter? We’re together now."

"Of course it matters. I - " He paused. "Oh my God. You were going to leave me weren’t you?"

"Max, let’s not - "

"No. I want to know if it’s true. Would you have left me Fran?"

"Yes." As Maxwell pulled away from her, Fran continued. "You knew that already. We had known each other for five years and you wouldn’t call me by my first name. Our relationship, whatever it was or wasn’t, was breaking my heart. Didn’t you believe me when I told you I was going to quit?"

"Initially I thought it might have been a ploy. I guess I didn’t realize the gravity of the situation until I saw you with your coat on, ready to walk out of my life forever."

"What I don’t understand is why something that happened sixteen years ago is bothering you now? I love you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me until the end."

"I know it shouldn’t bother me but it does. You know I never meant to hurt you. I had so many unresolved issues surrounding Sara’s death. I couldn’t properly love you the way you deserved."

"I can understand that now but at the time, all I saw was how much you hurt me. And for my own sake, my own sanity, I was ready to leave everything behind and start over."

"I’m glad you’re my wife," he said kissing her softly. "I can’t image my life without you."

Fran grazed Maxwell’s lips. "And I can’t image my life without you. Are we okay now?"

"Of course sweetheart. Why wouldn’t we be?"

"Just checking."

"Well now that the air is clear, what do you say I take you out for a nice romantic dinner? And then afterwards, we can - " Maxwell whispered his plans. His hand caressed her until she pulled away from him. "What’s wrong?"

"Wanting to know about my journals; is that the reason why you mentally disappeared on me this week?"

"Yes. I know I should have just been upfront with you."

"Sometimes I wonder how we’ve managed to stay together all these years when we have problems communicating."

"Think of our miscommunications as the extra spice to our relationship," Maxwell replied resuming his kisses. "Besides, we always manage to work things out."

* * * * *

"Do you have everything sweetheart?" Maxwell asked as he checked the kitchen and living room, making sure they left nothing behind. Fran emerged from the bedroom carrying the last of her bags.

"I think I’ve got everything."

She sighed, taking one last glance around their suite. He came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

"Are you all right Fran?"

"I guess. It’s not that I don’t want to go home and see the kids but I don’t want to leave either."

"I know. I’ll try to make more of an effort for us to spend time alone with the children and with each other."

"I know you will but that’s not what I’m talking about. I feel different than I did before we stepped through these doors a few days ago."

He turned her to face him. "Different how?"

"Spiritually free; stronger emotionally. I feel like I’ve finally laid the demons of the past to rest."

"I’d do anything to allay your fears. You are an intelligent and beautiful woman Fran Sheffield and I love you with all that I am," he said kissing her forehead. "Come along Mrs. Sheffield, our family awaits our return."

* * * * *

Maxwell watched Fran dozing as the plane made its way to Los Angeles. He slipped a notepad and pen from his jacket and quickly scribbled notes to himself. Smiling at his plan, he turned his attention back to his sleeping wife. He couldn’t wait to put his plan into action.

* * * * *

"Hello Hello," CC called out as she entered the house followed by Niles, Madeline, Jonah, and Eve.

"Hello CC, hello Niles," Maxwell said as he descended the staircase. "Thank you for taking care of Jonah and Eve."

"No problem Maxwell," CC replied. "Where’s Fran?"

"She’s upstairs resting."

"I’ll bet," Niles muttered.

Jonah, Eve, and Madeline suppressed a giggle at the odd look that crossed Maxwell’s face.

Clearing his throat, Maxwell turned to his children. "Did you two behave for Niles and CC?"

"Dad," Jonah replied bearing a mixed look of innocence and mischievousness, "Eve and I were on our best behavior. Don’t you trust us?"

"Eve yes, you we’re not so sure about," Fran said making her way downstairs. Jonah and Eve kissed their mother on the cheek. Ruffling Jonah’s dark hair, she said, "You remind me Brighton when he was your age."

Jonah smiled. "Thanks. What did you bring me back from your trip?"

Maxwell sighed in exasperation. "Too much like Brighton. Go upstairs and put your belongings away."

Fran watched the twins disappear up the stairs before turning her attention to Niles and CC’s daughter.

"How are you Maddy? How’s school going?"

"I’m fine Aunt Fran. School is going well."

"Madeline’s too modest," CC effused. "She made the dean’s list again this semester."

"Sweetie, that’s wonderful! Congratulations." Fran wrapped her arms around Madeline. "You should be very proud of your accomplishments."

"Thank you Aunt Fran, I am." Turning to her parents, Madeline asked, "May I be excused? I need to talk to Eve about one of my classes."

"Of course Madeline," Niles replied.

Before she could make her escape, Maxwell stopped her. "Are you and Eve in the same class?"

"No Uncle Maxwell, Eve had Ms. Landau last year for Science."

"Do you want something to drink?" Fran asked after Madeline left the living room.

"I’d love a cup of coffee," CC replied, "but I have to talk to Maxwell about the weasels at the network."

Niles patted CC on the head. "My little barracuda," he said proudly.

Maxwell groaned. "Do I really want to know?"

"Brace yourself partner," CC said guiding Maxwell toward his office, "it’s going to be a bumpy ride."

"We’ll bring some coffee into the office," Fran said watching them disappear around the corner.

Fran and Niles headed to the kitchen to prepare a tray for Maxwell and CC. As she sliced into the coffee cake, Niles asked, "So what did you bring me from Sacramento?"

* * * * *

Fran lay stretched across the bed, working on her latest assignment. It had been three months since she and Maxwell returned from their trip to Sacramento. After researching schools and being encouraged by her family, Fran had taken the plunge and enrolled in a writing program.

With Jonah and Eve’s hectic after school schedules, she barely had time to concentrate on the assignments but somehow managed to turn them in on time. Fran stared blankly at the words in her notebook trying to focus on revising her short story when Eve rushed into her room.

"Ma, can I borrow your black and gray sweater?"

"Don’t you mean may I borrow your black and gray sweater?" Maxwell said entering the bedroom. He bent down and kissed Fran’s cheek. "Don’t you have homework to do young lady?"

"Daddy, I’ve already done my homework."

"Why do you need to borrow your mother’s sweater?"

"Because it goes well with – Hey! Why are you answering for ma any way?"

"First, you barge into our bedroom, demanding to borrow something from your mother without asking her properly, and second, you’ve given no consideration or concern that you are disrupting her studies."

Eve cast her eyes downward. "I’m sorry ma. I didn’t mean to disturb you. May I borrow your sweater? Please?"

"Don’t you have something suitable in your own wardrobe instead of pestering your mother for her clothes?"

Fran ran her hand lightly over his arm to calm him. "Max, it’s all right. It’s in my closet Eve."

"Thanks ma. I promise I’ll take good care of it."

"You’d better or it’s coming out of your allowance."

"Dad!"

"Eve!" Maxwell folded his arms across his chest. He arched his eyebrow, daring her to challenge him. Muttering a ‘thank you’, Eve took the sweater and left her parents bedroom. "Is it too much to ask for reasonable and sane children?"

Fran sat up, placing her notebook on the nightstand. "What teenager do you know that’s either sane or reasonable?"

Maxwell sighed. "I don’t think I could have survived raising five children without you." He climbed in bed and pulled her in his arms. "So how is my favorite girl this evening?"

"Still trying to work on her writing assignment. For some foolish reason I thought I’d have more time for myself now that the twins are older but that doesn’t seem to be the case. By the way, don’t you think you were a little hard on Eve?"

"Absolutely not. She needs to learn respect and responsibility."

"Have you forgotten when Maggie and Gracie were Eve’s age?"

"That’s the exact reason why I was so hard on her. They didn’t get away with acting that way and neither will she."

"Are you kidding? Maggie and Gracie stayed in my closet. They practically lived there."

"I wish there was a place you could send your children from the time they become teenagers until the reach adulthood."

Fran eyed Maxwell. She smiled and replied, "No you don’t."

He kissed her temple. "No, I don’t. My children are exasperating, they drive me up the bloody wall but I love them each dearly and wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world."

"They love you too."

She slid her arms around his neck, drawing him into a kiss. He returned her kiss, pressing her into the pillows. Maxwell’s breath grew heavier as he unbuttoned her blouse.

"My God woman, what have you done to me? I feel like a bloody teenager every time I’m around you."

"So this is my fault?" she asked stripping him of his shirt and tie. Pulling him closer with the tie, Fran smiled. "Maybe we should hold on to this. I may have use for it later."

"Mrs. Sheffield, you have a very naughty streak."

"Lock the door Mr. Sheffield. I don’t want to be disturbed."

Maxwell finished undressing and quickly rejoined Fran in bed. His eyes swept over her naked frame. He drew her in his arms, letting his hands slowly explore her body.

"What about your studies?"

"I’m doing research for my homework assignment."

* * * * *

It had been hard keeping Fran away from the attic. Her unending curiosity made it difficult for Maxwell not to give in and reveal his surprise. He smiled, thinking of the different ways she tried to get him to admit what he was up to.

Her variety of methods nearly drove him to the point of madness. During the past few weeks, he had been tempted several times to confess everything but some how he managed to keep his secret under wraps.

Niles checked the hallway before entering Maxwell’s office. He stepped onto the terrace to make sure they were alone before he spoke.

"Everything should be completed by this evening," Niles said.

"Thank God. Maybe the house can finally be restored to some kind of order without the battle lines being drawn."

Niles smirked. "Hoping to work out a peace treaty with Fran?"

Maxwell slipped his off his glasses and massaged his temples. "You have no idea what my life has been like since I started working on this project."

"No, but I have a pretty good idea. Hopefully all will be forgiven tonight. And how are you going to spring your surprise to Fran?"

"I’ve got the entire evening planned. Dinner, a romantic walk along the beach, and then home to wow her."

"I like the way you haven’t factored in any unexpected problems," Niles replied. "Especially given Fran’s stubbornness and occasional temper."

"Let’s just hope there aren’t too many hiccups."

"What about Jonah and Eve?"

"They’re old enough to take care of themselves."

"Grace coming home?"

Maxwell shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes."

Niles glanced at his watch. "I’ve got to pick Madeline up from her piano lesson."

"I wish Eve were interested in playing a musical instrument. Margaret played the piano for a little while then for some reason gave up on it."

"Mercifully," Niles muttered.

"What?"

"I said unfortunately. Margaret had potential." Niles paused before he opened the door. "I hope everything works out for you tonight."

A moment of silence fell between them. As Niles studied his former employer and life long friend, he reflected over the years Fran had been apart of their lives. His low chuckle turned into full-fledged laughter.

"What’s so funny?" Maxwell asked.

"Oh nothing," Niles replied attempting to control his laughter.

He walked around to where Niles stood. "Come on old man, share the joke. What has you grinning like a Cheshire cat?"

"Well I was just thinking about how amazing your marriage to Fran has been for the last twenty-one years."

"Well that is pretty amazing since we’ve only been married sixteen."

"Oh I know how long you’ve been married. Sixteen years ago was just the legal formality." At Maxwell’s confused look, Niles continued. "Although she may not have been your wife, you and Fran acted like a married couple. The way you argued; the way you shared things. They way you’ve depended on each other. You two were and probably always will be a very passionate and loving couple whose bond will continue to deepen with each passing year."

Maxwell smiled, digesting Niles’ words. "You’re right. We have been married for twenty-one years. And they have been the most colorful, exacerbating, sometimes frustrating, joyful and loving times in our life," he replied escorting his friend out of the office. "Thank you Niles. For everything."

"You’re welcome Maxwell. I wish I could see the look on her face when she finds out what you’ve been up to for the last month and a half."

"I’m sure you’ll get all the details when you and Fran meet tomorrow over coffee."

Niles sighed. Sometimes he wished he still worked for Maxwell. Although Fran would fill him in, it just wasn’t the same as hearing it him self. As he exited the house, he bid hello and goodbye to the Sheffield twins.

* * * * *

Maxwell pushed the kitchen door open and paused at its entrance. He wasn’t really sure what incarnation Fran’s mood would be. He smiled, mentally reviewing his plans for tonight. Stepping into the kitchen, he said, "I’ve been looking for you young lady."

Fran sat with an open magazine next to a half eaten slice of cake on a saucer, sipping a cup of tea. An acknowledgement of his presence flickered in her eyes but she didn’t verbally reply to him.

He stood behind Fran. Brushing her hair aside, Maxwell softly kissed the nape of her neck.

"Darling, are you all right?" She turned, attempting to move away from him but he trapped her against the island. "You didn’t answer my question Fran," he said resuming his kisses. "Are you all right?"

Fran closed her eyes, willing herself not to give in to him. Her body began to respond to his touch as her mind desperately tried to hold on to her fleeting anger. As his hands caressed her, Maxwell pressed himself into her body.

"Damn you Maxwell," she murmured breathlessly.

When he stopped kissing her, Fran opened her eyes. With a broad smile he asked, "Does this mean you’re speaking to me now?"

"That depends. Are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been doing upstairs for the last two months?"

"Of course darling." He pressed his lips against her collarbone. Fran pulled back and looked at him. "Oh, did you mean now?"

"No, I meant next Tuesday. Of course I mean now."

"I’m afraid I can’t do that."

"Why?"

"It’s part of my surprise." He checked his watch. "I made dinner reservations for the two of us. Why don’t you go upstairs, take a nice long bath and get ready for dinner," Maxwell said guiding her to the stairs.

"Why don’t I trust you?"

"Sweetheart, have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"

"Until two months ago, my answer would have been no. Now I’m not so sure."

"Believe me you’re going to love it."

Fran looked at him, unsure of how to take his response. She accepted a final kiss from him and made her way to their bedroom.

* * * * *

"So does this mean I finally find out the surprise you’ve been hiding in the attic?" Fran asked as they entered the house.

Maxwell switched on the security system. "You’re awfully impatient darling."

"Actually I think I’ve been very patient. As patient as I was waiting for you to tell me you loved me without taking it back."

Maxwell knew Fran said it in jest but it was still unnerving. "You’re going to have that put on my headstone aren’t you?"

She paused midway up the stairs. "Hmm. Here lies Maxwell Beverly Sheffield. Loving husband, father and friend who once told Francine Fine he loved her then took it back but finally came to his senses and married her. Has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?"

"Is that going to haunt me into the afterlife as well?"

She slid her arms around Maxwell’s neck and whispered, "Just like me."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Fran pulled away and stared at him. "Just kidding sweetheart," he replied and kissed her.

"Keep talking like that and you’ll be sleeping alone."

"You’ll be back in our bed tomorrow."

"I meant forever."

Maxwell chuckled. "You can’t resist me. You love me too much."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"Only because I love you as much as you love me." He wrapped his arms around her. Maxwell studied her, memorizing every feature of her face. "I do love you Fran." He pressed her against the banister as their kiss intensified.

"Max?" His muffled response came as he brushed her hair aside to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes, sinking into the pleasure of his touch. Before she was too far-gone, Fran refocused her attention on the attic. "Maxwell, remember your promise."

"Which one? The one where I promise to love, honor, and cherish you?"

"Not that those aren’t important but I’m talking about the one you made to me before we went to dinner."

"Oh, yes." Maxwell ran his fingers lightly down her throat. "Are you sure you don’t want to continue this in our bedroom and leave your surprise until tomorrow? After all, what’s one more day?"

"A day too long." She slipped out of his arms and continued up the stairs. Turning back, Fran asked, "Coming?"

He curbed the suggestive response that popped into his head. Taking her hand, Maxwell led her past their bedroom and climbed the stairs toward the attic.

When they reached the door, Maxwell stopped her. "Before we enter, I have a request." He pulled a scarf from the pocket of his jacket.

Fran smiled. "Max, what kind of surprise do you have for me in there?"

"You’ll find out in a moment. Close your eyes."

She gave him a quick kiss before Maxwell placed the blindfold over her eyes. Nervousness and excitement coursed through her as she heard him turn the doorknob. She felt his hand on her back as he led her inside the room. An odd vulnerability fell over Fran when he stepped away from her.

"Max?"

Maxwell stared at her for a moment. The speech he had mentally rehearsed during dinner disappeared. He was too excited about his gift to her. Maxwell snapped out of his reverie when he heard Fran call his name again.

"I’m sorry darling. I was lost in thought."

"Well now that you’ve found your way back, can I take this blindfold off now?"

"Not just yet. I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to reveal this to you. Fran, do you remember when we were in Sacramento and I told you I’d support you in any endeavor you’d wish to pursue?"

"Yes."

"Well since you’ve been taking classes, I know you need time to yourself to concentrate. You need to be somewhere without constant interruptions." He paused to draw in a deep breath. "I hope you like it."

Maxwell removed the dark cloth that shielded her eyes. Fran blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the room. When she looked around, her mouth dropped open.

The attic, which had been an unused space, had been converted into an office. It was modeled similarly to his but with softer colors and furnishings. He stood back and watched her as she moved around the room.

She ran her fingertips along the desktop. "Max, I can’t believe you did this for me."

"You have everything you need right here. A notebook computer to compose your thoughts, a printer so you can see your words on a hard copy, and," he said opening the desk drawer, "disks, notepads, pencils, paper, and pens. You also have reference books and various other odds and ends to keep you focused on your craft."

Tears welled in her eyes. Her mind raced, overwhelmed by Maxwell’s gesture. If it was possible to fall further in love with her husband, Fran had.

"Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me."

"You’re welcome sweetheart." He kissed her temple. "Surprised?"

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "More than you know. I couldn’t imagine what you were doing up here. I would have never thought that you were planning something like this."

"I had a phone installed that connects you with the rest of the house." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "And," he whispered softly in her ear, "there’s a line that runs from my office to yours for private conversations."

Maxwell studied Fran, wondering what caused the broad smile that crossed her face as she pulled away from him and settled in the chair behind her desk.

"What?"

"I was just thinking. When you’re in my office, does that mean you’re going to sit on the edge of my desk with your legs crossed?"

"Darling, I don’t think I look as good as you do in skirts and heels."

"I don’t know," Fran replied running her fingers lightly across his thigh, "I still haven’t seen you in a kilt." She rose from the chair, pressing Maxwell’s lips to her own. "Oh Max, I’m sorry I ever doubted you," she said breaking their kiss. "I should have known you’d give me something so extraordinary and thoughtful. Thank you so much. I love you."

Her hands locked behind his neck as he bent his head to brush his mouth against hers. Fran felt his body shiver when she slowly threaded her tongue inside his mouth. Maxwell closed his eyes, moaning in their kiss as he encircled her body within the confines of his arms.

Unbuttoning his shirt, Fran pressed her lips against his exposed skin. She pulled his shirttail from his pants and pushed his shirt and jacket to the floor.

He turned her in his arms, wrapping his arms around her waist. He swept her hair off her shoulders, breathing in the scent of her perfume. Maxwell lowered the zipper, tracing the length of her spine.

A hedonistic thrill enveloped him as his mouth followed the path of his fingers down her bare back stopping only to unfasten the hooks of her bra. He pushed the top of her dress and bra off her shoulders, sliding his hands over her curvaceous body.

Fran held his gaze as she turned in his embrace, letting her dress and bra fall into a black puddle at her feet. He kneeled in front of her, sliding her lace panties down her legs.

She sank to the floor, pressing her body against his. Cradling his face in her hands, she toyed with his mouth until finally fusing their lips together in a passionate and gentle kiss.

Her palms wandered over his chest, moving downward until she reached his belt. Fran felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek as she unfastened his pants and slipped her hand inside to caress him.

Maxwell’s breath grew shallow at each passing moment. He was almost lightheaded from anticipation, knowing that soon they would be making passionate love to one another. Fran stretched out on the carpet, lying on the nest of their abandoned clothes. Beckoning him with her arms, he finished undressing and lay down beside her.

The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. Fran could almost hear Maxwell’s thoughts as his eyes and hands took in every detail of her figure. He tasted her skin, tracing the winding movements his fingers made across her body. She gasped in delight at the sensation of his tongue flattening, licking a path across her breasts.

His lips moved from one breast to the other, eagerly drawing each nipple into his mouth. His fingers continued down her body, tracing the curve of her waist and hips. Maxwell gently pushed her knees open to caress her inner thighs.

Fran’s hands mirrored his movements, her fingers dancing along his warm, strong frame. She smiled wickedly when her hand wrapped around his hardness, tenderly stroking him. He stopped her, placing her hands at her sides and continued delicately stroking her body.

She gazed into his eyes as he lowered his body into hers. Throwing her head back, she thrust her hips toward him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him further inside her body. He moaned as her inner muscles contracted around him. He loved the way she reacted to his touch, the way they responded to each other.

Clutching his body to her own, Fran gasped his name as shockwaves of pleasure overtook her body. Maxwell breathed her name hotly against her ear as he released himself into her. Settling beside her, he drew her into his arms.

She kissed the tip of his nose. "You’re just full of surprises tonight aren’t you?"

Brushing his lips against hers, he replied, "Just wait and see what else I have up my sleeve."

* * * * *

Fran crossed her legs, leaning back in the plush mocha colored chair. She picked up the notepad, rereading her story for the umpteenth time. A dull thud echoed in the office as she dropped the pad on the desk in frustration.

Words and ideas, which normally flowed from her easily, were unattainable. Pushing away from the desk, Fran left her office and headed to the kitchen for something to drink.

Jonah and Eve were sitting in the kitchen with their notebooks and textbooks spread across the table. A gallon of milk, a plate of cookies, and two half-empty glasses sat between them.

Fran placed the kettle on the stove. "How long have you two been home?"

"Not long, maybe about an hour," Jonah replied.

"How was school today?"

"Okay," Eve replied. She snapped a cookie in half, eating each piece separately. "We have a huge test tomorrow in history and I’m helping Jonah because he’s fertummelt about the period the test is covering."

"Oy Eve, you’re such a nudnik!"

As their bickering continued, Fran threw her hands up. "Just once, can’t the two of you behave?" She dropped a tea bag into the mug and filled it with the water.

"She started it," Jonah mumbled.

"I did not. I can’t help it if you’re - " Eve paused, trying to recall the Yiddish words their grandmother taught them, "a shmegegge!"

"What’s going on in here?" Maxwell asked entering the kitchen. He kissed Fran on the cheek and gave the twins a quick kiss on the head.

"Dad!" they replied in unison.

As she stirred sugar into her cup of tea, Fran said, "You two weren’t this much trouble in the womb! Less fighting, more studying do you understand me? I’m going to check up on you after dinner."

"But Fran, - " Maxwell and the twins watched as she exited the kitchen. Turning to his children, he crossed his arms and asked, "All right you two, what did you do?"

"Its Jonah’s fault!"

"You’re such a liar!"

"Never mind!" he said rubbing his temple. "Just do as your mother asks."

Grabbing a few cookies, Maxwell exited the kitchen the same way Fran had a few minutes before. He quickly scanned their bedroom before heading to her office. He found Fran lying across the sofa with her eyes closed. He set the cookies next to her mug of tea.

Kissing her, he whispered, "I bought you something you really want."

"Shh. We have to be careful," Fran said softly. "My husband’s home."

"What!" He looked down as her laughter echoed in the room. "That’s not funny Fran."

"Yeah it was." She sat up and patted the space next to her. "What brings you up here?"

"I wanted to check on you. I stole a few cookies from Eve and Jonah. What the bloody hell was going on downstairs?"

"They were fighting about homework, a test, I don’t know. I’m starting to reconsider your idea about a place to send the kids until they reach adulthood."

Maxwell massaged her shoulders. "No you’re not. You love them as much as I do. Now what’s really the matter?"

"I feel so frustrated," Fran sighed. "I can’t concentrate on my writing. I’m blocked. What am I going to do?" He wrapped his arms around her as he reclined against the sofa. "Honey, I know I said I was frustrated. And as tempting as you are, I’m not sexually frustrated, just creatively frustrated."

"Darling, believe me, I know you’re not sexually frustrated. And might I add you are very creative when you want to be. I just want to hold you for a while."

She settled contently in his arms. Grabbing a cookie, Fran broke it in half and offered Maxwell the other half.

He licked the melted chocolate from his lips. "Maybe you need to put your work aside," he said splitting the second cookie. "Take a trip to a day spa. You need to relax sweetheart."

"Maybe you’re right. Although you’re a pretty good masseuse."

Maxwell smiled. "Yes but our problem is that we go beyond a regular massage."

Fran turned to face him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all," he replied and kissed her.

* * * * *

Eve tapped lightly on the door before entering her mother’s office. Although she knew her parents weren’t home, Eve still felt the need to knock on the door. She loved her mother’s office. It was warm and secure, like being in her mother’s arms.

She smiled, remembering the secret meetings between her father and Niles as they planned the surprise for her mother. Picking up the notepad, her eyes drifted over the familiar handwriting.

The page had doodles of hearts, flowers, and the interlocking first names of their family. Eve thought about her parents open display of love for each other.

At times it embarrassed her by the way they carried on. Why couldn’t her parents ever act normal? She turned the page, mesmerized by the words left by her mother.

The poem spoke of love, heartache, promise, and sorrow. Completely captivated by the poem, Eve failed to hear the click of high-heels striking the floor.

"What are you doing in here?"

Eve gasped, clutching her hand to her chest. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her sister.

"Gracie! You scared me. What are you doing in here?"

"I asked you the same thing. Where are mom and dad?"

"I don’t know. Daddy left a note that said he and ma would be back before dinner."

"Eve, you know how mom feels about people being in her office without her permission. Now why did you come up here?"

Eve flopped on the couch. "You’re going to think it’s stupid."

"Come on squirt, you can tell me."

"Is the doctor in?"

Grace slapped her sister lightly on the arm. "Come on, what’s the matter?"

"David and I had a fight."

"About?"

"He wants me to be his girlfriend"

"So?"

"I do like him. It’s just that I’m not sure I like him that way."

"That still doesn’t explain why you’re here in mom’s office."

"I don’t know. I guess – I guess I wanted to feel ma."

Grace slid her arms around her sister. Looking around the room, it did feel a lot like their mother. It wasn’t tangible, just the warmth of her presence. As she held Eve, Grace mentally reviewed her sister’s words. Before she knew it, an uncontrollable laughter possessed her.

Eve broke away from Grace. "What’s so funny? Why are you laughing at me?"

"Oh Eve," Grace replied, "I’m not laughing at you. Truly, I’m not. It’s just that if mom were here, she’d blame your lack of wanting a relationship on daddy."

Eve stared at her sister and began to laugh. She could almost hear her mother blame the British half of her DNA on her inability to commit.

"Feel better?" Grace asked smiling at her sister.

Eve nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

"You know, I could go for some cookies right about now."

"And ma’s half just kicked in!" Grace laughed.

As they moved toward the door, Eve remembered the poem. "Hey Gracie, take a look at this."

Grace took the notepad from Eve. She read the poem, taking in the words, imagery, and meaning. After all these years, her mother still amazed her.

"It’s beautiful. I never knew mom could be so profound."

"I think she should submit it."

"So do I."

"You do?"

"Of course. I think she should showcase her talent."

They heard the front door open and close. At the sound of their mother’s voice, Grace and Eve looked at each other. A rush of fear flashed through them.

"What are we going to do?" Eve whispered.

"Put everything back the way you found it."

"How are we going to convince ma to submit her poem?"

"I’ll think of something," Grace replied shutting the door behind them.

When Fran and Maxwell entered the kitchen, they were surprised to see Grace and Eve at the table.

"Gracie, what are you doing here?" Fran asked wrapping her arms around her.

"I took a little break from my studies. I wanted to see what trouble my pesky siblings were into."

"Is everything all right Grace?" Maxwell asked.

"Yes daddy. I’m on a legitimate break."

Eve smacked Grace’s arm. "I resent being called pesky. That term only applies to brothers."

"Speaking of which, where’s Jonah?" Fran asked.

"He’ll be home soon. He stopped by Eddie’s after school."

Maxwell scowled, trying to remember his son’s friends. "Who the devil is Eddie?"

"The tall skinny kid whose vocabulary consists of one syllable answers," Fran replied. "Gracie, are you staying for the weekend?"

"I’m all yours."

"Don’t eat too many sweets. We’re having dinner in a couple of hours." Maxwell grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Kissing Fran on the cheek he whispered, "That goes for you too," and left the room.

With a loud bang, the back door swung open and hit the wall.

"Jonah!"

"Hey mom."

"Have you lost your mind as well as your manners?"

"What?"

"The way you came barreling in the backdoor."

His face grew flush with embarrassment. "Sorry mom," Jonah said as he shut the door. Dropping his bag on the floor, he looked at Grace. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Well not really but it’s an acceptable answer." He grabbed a handful of cookies and picked up his bag again. "Is dad home?"

"Yes. How was school today?"

"It was okay. I’ve got some stuff to do. When’s dinner?"

"In a couple of hours."

They watched Jonah bound out of the room stuffing cookies in his mouth. Shaking her head, Eve asked, "Ma, are you sure we’re related?"

"Trust me. With the pain I had delivering you two, there’s no doubt in my mind. Have you finished your homework?"

"I haven’t started it."

"Eve Katherine Sheffield, get upstairs this instant and do your homework!"

"But ma!"

"You’d better do it," Grace said winking at her sister. "You know how mom gets."

"You’re starting to become a little too sassy around your brother and sister missy," Fran said when Eve left the room. "I don’t know where you picked up that kind of behavior."

Grace twisted the chocolate cookie apart and licked its cream center.

"I could always blame my behavior on Brighton. Think of it as blood related transference in personality."

"Don’t blame B for your behavior. He gets into enough trouble on his own." Fran studied her daughter for a while. "Are you sure everything’s okay Gracie?"

"I’m fine mom, really. I guess I ’d better get out of your way before dinner. By the way, what’s on the menu tonight?"

"Robert’s not feeling well so we’ll be on our own tonight. How about Chinese?"

"That’s fine with me," Grace replied. Kissing Fran on the cheek, she said, "Dinner will be just like it used to be in New York."

* * * * *

Fran made her way around the table, setting each place carefully. She smiled, thinking back to when she first started working for Maxwell.

She immediately set a place for herself at the dining room table, making herself apart of his family. Even then she couldn’t imagine her life without Maxwell Sheffield being involved somehow.

She became aware of his presence before she physically felt his arms encompass her waist. Fran leaned into him, wrapping her arms over his.

"So, what’s for dinner?" he whispered kissing her ear. "I know Robert’s ill."

"Chinese. I felt like something spicy."

"I’m always in the mood for something spicy," he replied running his hands over her body.

"Max, the children can walk in at any moment.

"I told you before sweetheart, I can do it in two minutes."

Turning in his embrace, Fran slipped her arms around his neck and met his mouth in a gentle kiss. His hands slid slowly over her back, moving downward until he cupped her bottom. Her short flared skirt rose above her thighs as he lifted her onto the buffet.

"Fran," he growled nudging her legs further apart with his body.

She anchored her legs around his waist, drawing him into her body. Maxwell’s hands held her waist firmly, thrusting him self against her center. He felt her moan rumble against his chest as his lips brushed over her jaw.

His fingers gathered the hem of her sweater when a warning of the children catching them flashed in her mind. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to stop him.

"You’re wrong Max," Fran said answering his questioning gaze. Their labored breathing was pregnant with their passion. "That was two minutes and that was just a warm up."

Tracing her profile with his index finger, he said, "You do amazing things to me Francine."

She kissed the tips of his fingers as his hand passed over her lips and stroked the column of her throat. His hand continued to move downward until he reached the valley between her breasts. Following the path of his fingers, Maxwell pressed his mouth against her, licking and tasting her bare skin.

"Thank you, but I think we should continue this later in a more appropriate setting."

"Are you sure?"

He flattened her palm against his chest. She watched in curious fascination as he pushed her hand down his torso, passing over his belt buckle. Fran forced herself to stop when he moved her hand further down his body.

"You don’t play fair Max."

Before he could respond, Jonah yelled, "Dinner’s here!"

"I have to talk to my son about his timing," Maxwell said as he released her wrist. He closed his eyes, forcing the image of what he and Fran were about to do out of his mind. "We will finish this much later."

* * * * *

As Grace spooned a portion of Chow Mein onto her plate, she felt Eve nudge her leg underneath the table. She shook her head, silently telling her sister that this was not the place to bring up their mother’s writing.

Eve nudged her again, shifting her eyes to their mother. Grace relented, putting her napkin down on the table. When did Eve become such a pain in the tuchas? A faint smile crossed her face. Now I remember. It was when she learned to talk.

"Mom, how are your writing classes coming?" Grace asked

"Yes sweetheart, you haven’t mentioned it lately."

Fran looked at her expectant family. She was a little uneasy telling them the news but she remembered Joanna’s insistence.

"You remember Joanna?"

"Your friend from writing class?" Grace asked.

Fran nodded. "She’s read some of my work and she thinks I should submit it for publishing."

"That’s wonderful darling!" Maxwell leaned over and kissed her cheek. Remembering what he read in Sacramento, he whispered, "Just out of curiosity, what are you planning to submit?"

Lowering her voice, Fran replied, "Is there any story in particular you don’t want me to submit?"

Clearing his throat, Maxwell sat up and finished his dinner.

"So what are you going to submit mom?" Jonah asked.

"I think you should submit your poem," Eve said.

"What poem?"

Fran set her chopsticks down and stared at her youngest daughter. Eve’s eyes dart nervously, her mind desperately searching for an answer.

"Mom, please don’t be angry," Grace said. "We were in your office earlier and we read the poem on your desk."

"Grace, you and Eve both know you shouldn’t have been in your mother’s office without her permission."

"Somebody’s in trouble," Jonah said in a singsong tone.

Maxwell pressed the napkin to his mouth before dropping the cloth on the table. "Jonah, you may be excused."

"But dad, - "

"Jonah, please do as your father asked."

"Can I, I mean may I at least finish dinner in the kitchen?"

Maxwell locked eyes with his son. "Jonah Samuel Sheffield, if you haven’t left this room by the time I count to three, I promise you’ll be extremely sorry."

Jonah rose from the table. He knew by the stillness in his father’s voice that he had pushed him too far. When Jonah’s footsteps faded on the stairs, Maxwell turned his attention back to his daughters.

"I’m surprised at both of you. Your mother’s office is her private sanctuary."

"We’re sorry," Eve said. "We really are but that poem – ma, it’s beautiful."

Fran’s anger softened. "You really liked it?"

"Mom, I loved it," said Grace. "Just when I think I know you, you do something awesome and amazing. Please don’t be too angry with us. I promise it won’t happen again. Right Eve?"

"Yes, we promise."

"Your apology is all so well and good," Maxwell said, "but you need to be disciplined. I can’t punish you," he said looking at Grace, "but I can punish you," he told Eve. Fran rose to clear the table. "Put the dishes down Fran."

"But Max, - "

"Eve will be clearing the table and washing the dishes tonight. And there will be no television, stereo, computer, or telephone."

"Until when?"

"Until I say so."

"Daddy, isn’t that a little harsh?" Eve whined.

"The longer you protest, the longer your punishment. Do you really want to run that risk?" Eve shook her head. "I didn’t think so."

* * * * *

"Daddy’s being so unfair," Eve said as she loaded the dishwasher.

"He’s always been protective of mom, even when she worked for him," Grace replied. "Of course she could drive him crazy and make him lose his temper but that was partly because he was in denial about his feelings for her."

"Was daddy always so stern?"

"Actually he’s a lot mellower since he married mom. Even before they married, she had a way to get him to see reason." Grace smiled. "Don’t worry, mom’s probably working on him now."

* * * * *

Fran was perched on the edge of Maxwell’s desk. Crossing her legs, she asked, "How long were you planning on punishing Eve?"

"I hadn’t decided. Why?"

"I agree that Eve should be punished but I don’t think I should be too severe."

"And your suggestion?"

"At least a week."

"Do you think a week is long enough? Eve knew she shouldn’t have been in your office, reading your work without your permission."

Fran folded her arms across her chest. "Like father like daughter?" A slight smile crossed her face as Maxwell sighed. "Look, Eve knows she shouldn’t have been in my office but I want to talk to her about why she was in there."

"I’m not changing my mind Fran."

"I’m not asking you to. I’m just asking you to lighten her punishment. Or at least re-evaluate it."

Maxwell weighed Fran’s argument. "All right, I’ll reconsider her punishment after you speak with her." He paused, his eyes flickering over her body. "She’s lucky I’m such a pushover for her mother," he said before kissing her.

"Yeah right, like you’re really a pushover," Fran replied, returning his kiss.

He pulled away from her before things became too passionate. "As much as I’d love to follow through with where this is going, I have a lot of work to catch up on. May I take a rain check?"

"Depends. When are you planning on cashing it?"

"Very soon. I promise."

* * * * *

Grace found Fran at her desk, watching pages spill from the printer. She gently knocked on the door and entered after her mother waved her in.

"I’m sorry mom. We didn’t mean to intrude and invade your privacy. But Eve is right. You should publish your poem. Please don’t be angry with us."

"I’m not angry with you or Eve. I’m just disappointed. I know how you two get if I see something of yours that’s private. I only ask that you give me the same respect."

"I know." Grace bit her lip. "Is daddy still angry with us?"

"I’ve managed to get him down to a simmer. But he’s very disappointed with both of you as well."

"I know this can’t change how you feel right now," Grace said offering Fran a handful of papers, "but I’ve done some research and found a bunch of contests here in California where you can submit your poem. I also found some literary magazines you might want to check out."

"You did that for me?"

"Of course. Mom, I love you. I want you to be happy." Grace winked and said, "I also want you to forgive Eve and me."

She stared at her daughter. It was times like this when Fran could see how her behavior had influenced Grace’s personality.

Grace was unsure of what her mother thought until she saw a faint smile pass over her face. Slowly she began to breathe and realized everything would be all right.

Fran shook her head. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"

"Love and forgive us?"

"Love goes without question. No matter what you do, I’m your mother and I’ll love you forever."

"And the forgiveness?"

"That comes in time." She paused for a moment and said, "Okay, you’re forgiven."

Grace smiled and hugged Fran. "Thanks mom."

"Why were the two of you in here?"

"Eve was having an emotional issue and since you weren’t here, she needed the comfort of your spirit."

"What?"

"Let me put it another way. Eve needed to talk to you."

"I understand. You don’t want to discuss what she’s already told you."

"I just think its better coming from her than from me."

* * * * *

Eve yawned as she flipped the page of her math book. She smiled at the memory of her father telling her she inherited the love of numbers from her mother because of her ability to quickly calculate figures during a shopping spree.

"Eve?"

She turned to find her mother standing the doorway. "Come in ma."

"Doing your homework?"

Eve nodded. "I’m getting a jumpstart on next week’s assignment."

Fran smiled and ran her finger under her daughter’s chin. "You know you’re a lot like your father. Maybe that’s why the two of you butt heads so often."

"So how long will I be under lock and key?"

"That depends. Tell me what you were doing in my office."

"Gracie didn’t tell you?"

"She felt it would be better if you told me."

She’s so much like Max, Fran thought watching Eve pace the floor. Whether it’s a review for a play, a television show, or something he had difficulty discussing, Maxwell’s always restless until it’s over. Eve finally settled on the bed beside Fran and began.

"I needed to talk to you about a personal problem but since you weren’t home, I went to your office because - oh God it sounds so incredibly stupid saying it out loud but it’s true."

"What? You know you can tell me anything."

"I – I went to your office because I needed to feel you."

"What do you mean?"

"Being in your office feels like being in your arms. Your aura, your personality, the office, its so… you. Just like daddy’s office is like him." Eve watched the slightly confused expression on Fran’s face. "I knew you wouldn’t understand," she said flopping backwards on the bed. "You think its silly don’t you?"

"I think I know what you mean," Fran said reaching over to brush Eve’s hair from her face. "But you still haven’t told me why you needed me."

She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "You know my friend David? He wants to be more than just friends."

Fran raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How much more?"

"He wants me to be his girlfriend."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I like David, I really do but I only like him as a friend. I’ve never thought of him that way."

"Have you told him that you only want to be his friend?"

"He wanted me to think about it."

"He’s a lovely boy Eve."

"I know ma. He’s kind, considerate, thoughtful, cute …"

"Are you sure you don’t want to be more than friends?"

"I’m not sure I want to be his girlfriend. I mean I’m a girl and we’re friends but – "

Fran held up her hand. "No need to go on Eve, I get the picture. If you don’t have those feelings for him then you need to tell him right away."

"I just don’t understand why he wants to change everything."

"Maybe David feels that you two could be a great couple. You’re good friends. Relationships built on solid foundations usually last longer. Look at me and your father. We were friends before we got married. That’s one of the bonds that hold us together."

"It’s funny. Grace and I were talking about you and daddy. She said you’d blame me not wanting to make a commitment to David on daddy."

"We don’t need to open up that can of worms," Fran replied laughing. "Besides if he hadn’t decided to commit, you and Jonah wouldn’t be here. Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so. Thanks ma. I love you."

Kissing Eve on the head, Fran replied, "I love you too."

"Ma, how long will I be punished? Did daddy tell you?"

"We’ll talk about that in the morning. It’s time for bed."

* * * * *

Maxwell was in bed waiting for Fran when she entered their bedroom. He set the book he was reading on the nightstand, watching her prepare for bed. As she ran the brush through her hair, he slid out of bed and took the brush from her.

"Did you talk to Eve?"

"Yes."

He paused, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Well?"

"Are you going to finish?" Maxwell rolled his eyes and continued brushing her hair. "She needed to talk to me and since I wasn’t here, Eve went to the office because it felt like me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"At first I didn’t understand it either but the more I thought about it, I began to understand what she meant. Everyone’s personal space absorbs and takes on that person’s personality." Fran mentally reviewed what she said but quickly dismissed her uneasiness behind the words she chose. "Anyway, the office to Eve felt warm and safe and comfortable."

"But that still doesn’t explain why she was rifling through your work. Besides, she should have waited until you came home."

"Eve knows she was wrong Max. There’s no need to belabor that point anymore."

"I just want to know what was so blasted urgent that she couldn’t have waited until we were home."

"Eve has a little problem." Fran purposely paused, knowing it would drive him crazy. "It’s David."

Maxwell’s body stiffened. Cautiously he asked, "What about David?"

"He wants to be more than friends."

"How much more?

"He wants them to be boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Why do I get the feeling there’s more than what you’re saying?"

"You’re right. There is more. And you’re not going to believe it when I tell you." She pulled him closer to whisper, "David wants a relationship but Eve doesn’t want anything to change between them. She’s afraid of making a commitment. Can you imagine? I mean where could she have possibly picked up an idea like that?"

Maxwell groaned inwardly and followed Fran across the room. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground but felt the need to ask anyway.

"Did Eve say why she didn’t want a relationship with David?"

"She cares for David but she’s not sure it’s the same way he cares for her."

"Well that may not be a bad thing, rushing into a relationship at her age."

"And when do you propose that she learn about relationships and how to handle them?" Maxwell began to respond when Fran stopped him. "I’d be very careful how I’d answer that question if I were you."

"The only thing I was going to say is that whatever Eve decides, I’ll support her."

"You mean it?"

"No, but I’m trying my best to suppress every instinct that wants to lock her in her room until she’s thirty."

"I thought I broke you out of that overprotective habit," Fran said sliding into bed.

Maxwell turned out the lights and settled under the covers beside her. "Curbed the tendency maybe. Broke me out of the habit? Never."

"I’d like to revisit our discussion earlier."

"Which discussion is that sweetheart?" he asked brushing her hair aside. As he left a trail of soft kisses along her neck, she gently nudged him.

"I’m serious Max. I want to talk about Eve’s punishment."

He sighed and moved away from her. "We agree that she should be punished."

"Yes. The only sticking point was the amount of time. I still think a week is enough time. Don’t you, given the circumstances?"

"If I concede to a week," Maxwell asked, "will you promise not to bring up The Thing?"

Fran chuckled. "Anytime soon or not at all?"

"I would prefer that you never bring it up but I’m not insane. I know that’s your way of twisting me around your little finger."

"Well," she said running her fingers down his chest, "at least one of my ways."

"Fran!"

"Okay sweetie. I won’t bring it up again."

"Thank you."

"Unless I really need to."

Maxwell drew her body under his own. "I don’t know what I’m going to do with you."

"If you don’t know after sixteen years of marriage, we’ve got a problem."

"Fran?" he whispered nipping her earlobe.

"Yes Max?"

"Remember that rain check?"

"What about it?"

"I’d like to cash it in now."

Maxwell’s fingertips drew light, feathery swirls along her thigh. He captured her mouth as he unbuttoned her nightshirt and stripped it from her body. Pulling her panties down her legs, Maxwell nudged her legs apart and pressed his hardness into her. She arched her body into his, looping her long slender legs over his waist.

Rising from her embrace, Maxwell quickly discarded his pajama bottoms. He reached for her hand and pulled her into his arms. Whispered moans of passion tumbled from Fran’s mouth as she pushed him backward onto the bed.

She threw her head back at the feel of him entering her. Through narrowed eyes he watched her, guiding his hands across her body. His fingers spread over her, cupping and stroking her breasts. He closed his eyes, marveling in the pleasure of Fran’s body moving against his.

Her hair fell in a curtain around him as she leaned forward, grazing her lips with Maxwell’s. His hands trailed down her body, bracing his fingers at her hips as he plunged into her.

Fran’s breathing grew erratic as he thrust into her a final time. She drew in a sharp intake of breath as the tight coil of desire spun wildly within her soul.

She closed her eyes, savoring the delicious sensation of Maxwell’s climax flooding her body. Settling next to her, he drew the sheets around their bodies as Fran lay contently in his arms.

"Apparently I need to keep a permanent rain check with you," Fran said.

"You can cash that check anytime," Maxwell replied tightening his embrace.

* * * * *

"Good afternoon Mr. Sheffield," Robert said when Maxwell entered the kitchen.

"Good afternoon Robert." Maxwell grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator. "Do you know if my wife is home?"

"Yes sir. She and Ms. Baker are in her office."

Maxwell dropped the empty bottle into the recycle bin and made his way upstairs, stopping briefly in their bedroom to change his clothes before heading to the attic. Their laughter grew sharper as he approached Fran’s office. He stood in the doorway watching the two women laughing hysterically on the couch.

They were contradictions of each other. Where Fran had long dark hair, a petite frame, and pale skin, Joanna had short curly red hair, a cinnamon complexion, and a full rounded figure. Their laughter drew his attention back to the scene before him.

"Stop it Fran! I - I can’t breathe!

"It’s your fault!" Fran gasped.

"Don’t blame it on me," Joanna replied. "You’re the one who bought it up."

"If you hadn’t asked about the time Max and I - "

"Hello sweetheart," he said stepping into the room.

He was afraid of what his wife already told her friend. By the way they were laughing, it couldn’t have been good.

"Hi Max," She gave him a quick kiss. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that I’m home. Hello Joanna, it’s always pleasure to see you again."

"Hello Maxwell," Joanna replied struggling to regain her composure. "It’s good to see you too."

"So, what trouble have you ladies been stirring up?"

Fran put her hands on her hips. "Max, I resent that! I do not stir up trouble."

"You’ve forgotten how long I’ve known you darling."

"Then I resent that comment," Joanna said.

Immediately he began to back track. "Joanna, I didn’t mean to imply - " Joanna and Fran looked at each other then back to Maxwell. A smile slowly broke across their face. His body stiffened against their raucous laughter. "I take it that you’re not upset?"

"Hardly." Joanna wiped the tears from her eyes. Glancing at her watch, she said, "Good grief, where did the time go?"

"Apparently laughing at me."

"Pay no attention to him Joanna. He’s just a little grumpy."

"Fran, I am not grumpy!

"Of course not baby," she replied patting his cheek.

Maxwell arched an eyebrow at his wife. He didn’t appreciate her patronizing tone, especially in front of her friend. Sensing his displeasure, Fran kissed him until she felt him relax against her.

"As entertaining as this display of martial bliss is," Joanna said rising from the couch, "I really should be going."

"You’re not staying for dinner?" Fran asked.

"I’m afraid not."

"Joanna, you’re my friend and I want you to stay for dinner." Before Joanna could respond, Fran continued. "I already know you don’t have anything pressing at the moment. Let your frozen dinner stay in the freezer for another night. Besides Robert is a fabulous cook. And when is the last time you had a decent home cooked meal?"

"I thought I left my mother in Baltimore."

"You know I’m right."

"Fran, you’re married with five children and two grandchildren. Don’t you have enough people to mother?"

"Well technically I have six children," Fran said glancing at Maxwell, "but we move on. Joanna, you’re my friend and I want to stay for dinner. Please?"

"You might as well give in," Maxwell said ignoring Fran’s comment. "She won’t take no for an answer."

Joanna sighed. "All right, I’ll stay."

"Good!" When Maxwell picked up the phone, Fran took the receiver from him. "Don’t bother. I already told Robert that Joanna was staying for dinner."

"When?" Joanna and Maxwell asked in unison.

"When we came back from the bookstore."

* * * * *

The sun had sunk well below the horizon by the time Fran, Maxwell, Joanna, and the twins sat down for dinner. Robert made his way around the table, setting a plate in front of each person.

"Thank God the sun’s set," Joanna said unfurling her napkin. "I don’t need to add to my natural tan."

"Are we still meeting Wednesday to go shopping?" Fran asked as Robert poured her a glass of tea.

"Yes. Did we decide if I’m meeting you here or at the mall?"

"I though we were meeting at your place?"

"We can work it out later."

"I still can’t believe how fast the holidays came around. Hanukkah will be in two weeks and before you know it, it’ll be Christmas."

A shock and surprised look registered across Maxwell, Jonah, and Eve’s face at Fran’s statement. They all shared the same thought: where did the time go?"

"I know," Joanna replied. "I can’t believe it either. You know as long as I’ve lived in California, I still miss Christmas on the east coast."

"I know what you mean," Fran said. "Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie grew up on the east coast so they experienced the holidays in New York but Jonah and Eve never got to really experience Hanukkah and Christmas the way I remember."

Joanna smiled. "Crisp, sharp December winds; the purity and calm of the season as snow falls over the city. I always loved how everything came to a stand still when it snowed."

"The best snow was when it was knee-deep and fluffy," Fran said. "Great for snowball fights."

"We’ve taken the entire family to Aspen on holiday before," Maxwell said. "We’ve always had a splendid time."

"I know sweetie but it’s not the same as experiencing the changes in the season first hand."

"You have a point darling. Although California is beautiful, it just doesn’t compare with the change in seasons like New York."

"Can we go to New York for the holidays?" Jonah asked.

"Yes daddy," Eve pleaded. "Let’s go to New York"

Maxwell eyed his family suspiciously. "I would like to discuss this with your mother first if you don’t mind."

* * * * *

Fran and Joanna had been circling the food court for ten minutes when they the finally came across a table being vacated by an elderly couple. Once they managed to settle their purchases in the empty chairs, they began eating their lunch.

"This place is a zoo," Joanna said breaking apart her chopsticks.

"It’s a freakin’ madhouse," Fran replied. "Loehmann’s semi-annual clearance sale looks tame compared to this place!"

"So how long will you, Max, and the kids be gone?"

"Three weeks. I really wanted to go to New York for Hanukkah but since the kids have finals that week, we’ll celebrate it here and leave for Christmas vacation the following week. What about you? Are you going home for the holidays?"

"Yes. My sister, brothers, and I are flying into Baltimore on the eighteenth."

"Does your mother know you all are coming home?"

"We started to surprise her but decided it would be better if she knew up front. And speaking of surprises, I have one for you." Joanna pulled a magazine from her bag and set it right side up in front of Fran. "Have you ever heard of The Virgin Chronicles?"

Fran shook her head. "Is it a magazine where people tell about their first sexual experiences?"

"No, they publish first time writers. I came across a copy when I was in the bookstore the other day. You can borrow my copy to get the submission information."

"Jo, do you think I’m ready to submit something I’ve written?"

"Yes. The only way for you to grow as a writer is to take a leap of faith." When Fran hesitated, Joanna continued. "Why don’t you take some time during the holiday and think about it. Discuss it with Max. Then sit your tuchas in a chair and send it on its merry way."

"What do you think I should submit?"

"Don’t limit yourself to stories only. Submit your poems as well. For your poem, I would suggest A Rose in Winter. For your story submission, I would send in the one about Alain and Raven. Have you come up with a title for it yet?"

"I don’t know. Something like The Journey or Love’s Promise."

"Love’s Promise isn’t bad. How about Destiny’s Choice?"

"I like the title but I don’t know if it really goes with that story."

"Just promise me you’ll work on your submissions during the holidays."

"I promise."

They dumped their trash and stacked the trays on top of the bin. Gathering their purchases, Joanna asked, "Ready for Round Two?"

* * * * *

Watching their family skate across Rockefeller Center, Fran snuggled against Maxwell, drawing herself into the warmth of his body. As an early Christmas present, Maxwell flew the entire family as well as their butler and maid to New York for the holiday.

Once they settled into the townhouse, the entire family toured Manhattan and Queens. Fran, Maxwell, Grace, Maggie, and Michael delighted in showing Jonah, Eve, Sara, and MJ the sights and sounds of their heritage.

Although many things in the city had changed, the essence of the city remained the same; New York would always be home. The children’s voices and laughter wafted in the crisp December air as they glided over the ice.

Tightening his embrace, Maxwell asked, "Is that better sweetheart?"

"Well I’m not as warm as I’d like to be but it’ll due for now." Turning in his arms, Fran kissed him on the cheek.

"There’s always tonight Ms. Fine."

"Mr. Sheffield, you’re making me blush!"

"That’s not the only thing I want to make you do."

Maxwell captured her mouth with his. Their kiss deepened, losing themselves in their own private bliss until they heard Jonah’s voice.

"Mom and dad, do you have to do that in public? Geez!"

"I will kiss your mother whenever and wherever I bloody well please! If you don’t like it, that’s your problem."

Jonah moved away from his parents, grumbling about their behavior.

"What a difference sixteen years makes. Who would have thought that you would openly display your love for me? What’s gotten into you?"

"You, my beautiful and lovely wife."

"Well in that case, I can’t wait to get you home!"

"Shall we leave the children and get a jump start on our activities? Grace, Margaret, and Michael know how to find their way home. And we’ll have the house to ourselves."

"You make it very difficult to argue against your logic Max."

Stroking her cheek, Maxwell asked, "Shall we?"

Fran nodded. "Yes, we shall."

Grace skated over to her parents. Before Maxwell spoke, she said, "We’ll be all right daddy. Just make sure you send the limo back for us."

He kissed his daughter’s cheek. "We will."

Maggie and Michael made their way over to Grace as they watched their parents walk arm and arm to the limousine. Leaning against Michael, Maggie said, "They look great together, don’t they?"

"They sure do," Michael replied. "I just hope we’re like them when we get to be their age."

"Something tells me that won’t be a problem for either of you," Grace replied.

Maggie tried to swat her sister on the arm but she moved out of reach. "Gracie!"

"Ha ha, too slow!" she replied, skating away from Maggie.

She followed Grace, skating furiously to catch up to her sister. Michael shook his head and followed his wife. Jonah and Eve joined in the chase while Sara and MJ stopped skating and watched as their parents, aunts and uncle fell into a pile in the center of the ice, laughing hysterically. Sara looked at her brother and shrugged her shoulders. They resumed their skating, both wondering why adults were so silly sometimes.

* * * * *

Fran and Maxwell entered the townhouse shortly after ten. Before she stepped over the threshold, he tugged her arm and pointed at the mistletoe placed above of the entryway.

"You know this means you are required by law to kiss me."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And just where is this law written?"

"I don’t know." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Somewhere in the Constitution I believe. Now are you going to comply or do I have to put you under house arrest?"

"Hmm. House arrest sounds kind of interesting."

"Yes, you’re restricted to the bedroom. Or maybe the kitchen, my office, - "

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"I can do that too."

Fran closed her eyes as Maxwell’s lips brushed against hers. Her hands combed through his hair as he pressed his mouth harder to hers.

"I want you," he whispered against her ear, pushing his body into hers. He felt Fran’s moan as his lips traced her collarbone. The cool December air kissed her skin as Maxwell began to lift edge of her sweater.

Brighton paused when he entered the living room, shocked by the sight of his parents in the doorway. Clearing his throat, he said, "You know you two could be arrested for indecent exposure." They broke apart as Brighton’s laughter echoed in the room.

Fran moved from Maxwell’s embrace, smoothing down her clothes. She ran over to her son, wrapping her arms around him.

"B! What are you doing here?"

"Mom, please," he said as she covered his face in kisses. "I’m happy to see you too but you’re suffocating me."

"I’m sorry honey. It’s just that I didn’t think you’d make it home for the holidays."

"Filming wrapped up earlier than expected."

Maxwell took Fran’s coat and hung it in the closet with his own. "Welcome home Brighton."

"Thanks dad. Where is everyone?"

"We left them at Rockefeller Center," Fran replied. "So tell me, what’s new? What’s going on? How’s Laurie?"

"Sweetheart, he just got home. Let him settle in before you start giving him the third degree."

"Max!"

"Actually I am kind of tired," Brighton said.

"Oh," Maxwell said, attempting to hide his disappointment. "I guess you want to rest for a while."

Remembering what he interrupted, Brighton replied, "I’m not that tired. I think I’ll hop in a cab and see if I can catch up with everyone."

"Take the limo. We promised Grace that we’d send it back to collect them."

"Great. We’ll kibitz later mom. I promise." He kissed her cheek and left the house.

"Don’t worry sweetheart," Maxwell said guiding Fran up the stairs. "Brighton will talk to you when he’s ready."

"You think I was pressuring him don’t you?"

"Of course you were. You’re his mother." Her eyes widen in shock, horrified by his words. "It’s okay. He understands and loves you all the same."

She folded her arms across her chest. "What is that some kind of backhanded complement?"

"No darling, it’s not a complement," he replied as they moved down the hallway. "It was the truth. I know how much you like the kvell about the children and what they do in their lives but there are times when you need to curb your yenta impulse. He’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. He always has."

Fran faced him as they entered their bedroom. "So what are you saying Max?"

Maxwell locked the door. He stripped the turtleneck from his body, tossing it on the ottoman and began working on the fixtures of his pants.

"That you’ve sharpened your Sylvia skills?"

She popped him in the arm. "Do you have any idea how angry I am with you Maxwell Sheffield?"

"I have a pretty good idea," he replied drawing her into his arms. "Let me make it up to you."

Maxwell left a trail of gentle kisses along her shoulders as he began to undress her. She tried to stay angry with him but her irritation slowly melted into desire. Fran captured his mouth as he swept her into his arms and carried her across the room.

Placing her in the center of their bed, Maxwell brushed his lips across her jaw and whispered, "Bei mir bist du shayn."

"I love it when you speak Yiddish," she replied kissing his throat. "It’s such a turn on."

"I know. Why do you think I do it?"

* * * * *

The crisp sound of pages snapping echoed in the room as Maxwell flipped through the manuscript the network sent him express mail. Shoving the script aside, he pulled off his glasses and massaged his temple.

Why did I tell David my plans for the holiday? I was just asking for trouble. A few days after Christmas and I’m already being burdened by my job. He tapped the button on the intercom and waited for Robert to answer.

"Bring me a pot of tea."

"Yes sir."

He leaned back in the leather chair and reminisced about his time in the theatre. Part of him missed producing plays for Broadway. Thoughts of returning to New York crowded his mind. Before he was able to shut those thoughts out but now he wasn’t sure he wanted to. A gentle tapping on the door pulled him into consciousness.

"Come in." When the door opened, he was surprised to see Fran bringing him his afternoon tea. "Hello sweetheart."

She leaned down for a kiss. "I ran into Robert in the hall and decided I’d bring you your tea instead."

"I’m glad. Robert’s a good man but I prefer looking at you."

"Max, are you all right? You seem a little tense."

Maxwell sighed. "I’m – I’ll be all right. So what have you been doing today? Hit any of the after Christmas sales yet?"

"Max! Sometimes you make me sound so shallow. Like shopping is my main existence."

"I didn’t mean to imply that darling but I know how much you love a good sale. Forgive me?"

"Okay. But I do need to talk to you. If you’re busy, I can wait until later."

"Please, I welcome the break. Anything to take my mind off of this damn show."

Fran settled on the sofa, unsure of how to start. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Remember when I told you Joanna thought I was ready to submit some of my writing?"

"Yes. Have you made a decision on what you’re going to submit and where?"

"Well before we left California, Joanna gave me a magazine for first time writers. They take submissions for poetry and short stories. Of course just because you submit something doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll be published."

"I think you should do it. You’ll never know what you can achieve if you don’t take the risk."

"I’m glad you think so."

"What did I tell you in Sacramento?"

"That you’d support whatever endeavor I wished to pursue."

"Exactly. I think it’s time for you to test the waters. Now, what were you planning on sending to – what’s the name of the magazine?"

"The Virgin Chronicles."

"Interesting. The title’s a bit provocative but then again I suppose that’s the point."

"Joanna suggested that I shouldn’t limit myself to submitting a poem or story. That I should send in both. The poem I’m going to submit is entitled A Rose in Winter. It’s the poem Eve and Grace read that time they were in my office."

"What story are you going to send them?"

Fran bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell him but she didn’t want it to be a surprise if it was selected. Picking up her cup, she murmured the name quickly and took a sip of tea.

"What did you say?"

Clearing her throat, she said, "I’m submitting my story Unrequited Love. But that’s just the working title."

"What’s the story about?"

"Basically it’s about two people who are in love but are never in the right place and time to admit it to each other."

Maxwell leaned back in his chair. As he was about to take a sip of tea the premise of the story dawned on him.

"It’s the one I read in Sacramento isn’t it? The one loosely based on us."

"Yes."

Tea splattered across the calendar as he dropped the cup and saucer on the desk. Maxwell shot up, thrusting the chair against the wall.

"Absolutely not! I forbid it!"

"If you’d just read it, I know you’d change your mind."

"I’m not going to read it, end of discussion."

"What?"

"You are not submitting that story Fran."

She stood with her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, when did I need your permission for anything I want to do?"

"You don’t. This, however, is the exception."

"Why, because I borrowed some things that happened in our past?"

"Yes."

"I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you have the nerve to stand there and tell me I can’t send in my story just because it makes you uncomfortable."

"This has nothing to do with my comfort. This is about the right to privacy."

Fran threw her hands up in frustration. "You are unbelievable."

"You have to obtain a person’s permission regarding their likeness and I refuse to grant it."

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"I’m not being stubborn. I just don’t want my life published for someone else’s entertainment. I mean really Fran, how could you even think of doing something so incredibly stupid and think I’d agree to it?"

Her mouth dropped open, still processing what he just said. "I’m going to leave before I say something I’ll regret later."

"You’re being childish."

"I’m being childish? You’re the one that’s acting like a big spoiled brat!" She threw open the door and stormed out of his office.

"Fran, don’t you walk out on me!" he yelled following her into the living room. "We are in the middle of a discussion."

"No Max, I’m not walking out in the middle of a discussion. I’m walking out in the middle of an absurd argument by my insensitive, thoughtless, and unsupportive husband."

He stood in the living room, his arms flailing wildly. "I’m thoughtless? What about you? You didn’t even consider my feelings before you told me you were submitting that story."

"Not everything is about you Max." She pulled her jacket from the closet. "You see and hear what you want. It’s a good story but you’re so caught up with how this will affect you, that you can’t see pass it to discuss it objectively."

"Fran, we’re not through here."

Narrowing her eyes, Fran replied, "Yes Max, I think we are," and slammed the door behind her.

* * * * *

Maxwell pushed his food around his plate, absently taking a bite from time to time. He swallowed, not really tasting the dish.

His anger subsided over the past few hours, slowly giving way to concern as time ticked away. Fran had been gone for nearly eight hours and there had been nothing to indicate that she would return anytime soon.

Shoving the plate aside, he paced the office, replaying the argument again in his mind. Her request wasn’t unreasonable. She wasn’t asking his permission, just his opinion. He had taken his anger at the network for interrupting their holiday out on her.

Their quarrel left a bitter taste in his mouth. What if she leaves me? Or worse, suppose something happens to her? I would never forgive myself if the last thing she heard from me were words of anger.

He ran into Robert as he entered the living room. "Have you seen or heard from Mrs. Sheffield since this afternoon?"

"No Mr. Sheffield, I haven’t." He watched Maxwell peering out the door. "May I speak freely sir?"

"Yes, of course."

"I have been with the family long enough to know that this minor difficulty is just a bump in the road. I’m sure Mrs. Sheffield is all right and will be home soon."

"For my sake, I hope so. Good night Robert."

"Good night Mr. Sheffield."

He watched his butler walk up the staircase. "Robert?"

"Yes sir?"

"Thank you."

Maxwell waited in the living room a few more hours before finally retiring to their room. He stretched across the bed, taking her pillow in his arms.

Inhaling her perfume was detrimental to his being. His soul ached; he longed to hear her, speak to her, and touch her. He was lost without her. He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion and anxiety overtake him.

Maxwell jumped, startled by the phone’s persistent ring. He glanced at the clock. Noting the late hour, he said a quick prayer and answered the phone.

"Max?"

"Oh my God, Fran, I’ve been so worried about you."

"That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to let you know that I’m okay."

"Where are you?"

"I’m at a hotel. I think it’s best that I stay here."

"It’s not too late darling. I can come pick you up."

"No. I’m tired. All I want to do is sleep."

"I understand. I’ll pick you up in the morning."

"Max, when I said that I think it’s best that I stay here, I mean stay here for a couple of days."

"What? You can’t mean that."

"I’m serious Max. I can’t be around you right now. I think its best we spend a little time apart."

"Fran, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings but please come home tomorrow so we can discuss this like two rational adults."

"I can’t. Not right now."

"Fran, you’re being ridiculous." He bit his bottom lip, trying to control his tears. "Please come home. I need you."

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

"I love you." He paused, waiting for her reply. "Fran?"

"I – I love you too."

Fresh tears spilled down his face when he heard line disconnect. Placing the phone on the nightstand, he turned out the light and wrapped his arms around her pillow.

For the first time in more years than he cared to remember, Maxwell cried himself to sleep.

* * * * *

Maxwell moved around the house in a fog. His mind rewound and replayed the previous day’s events like videotape. Each word and gesture sliced painfully into his soul.

Five years. Five years for him to tell Fran how he felt about her, from the moment she stepped through his door and into his life. Five years of the most tumultuous time in his existence.

He cherished the ride of how he ended up marrying a woman he loved and adored. And now he seemed to be on the brink of losing it all.

Maxwell made his way to the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed. He pushed the door open and found Jonah sitting at the table. Watching his youngest son grow up, Maxwell had been amazed that Jonah, not Eve as he always assumed, was a perfect copy of Fran.

"Hey dad." Jonah watched his father stare into the refrigerator. "Do you want something to eat?"

"I could do with a nosh since I missed breakfast." He walked over to his father but Maxwell shooed him away. "I’m not bloody helpless Jonah. I know how to make a sandwich."

"Dad, we want to talk to you."

Before Maxwell could respond, Eve, Grace, Brighton, and Maggie entered the kitchen. He looked at his children. Eyeing them curiously, he asked, "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Mom," Jonah replied.

"This is none of your concern."

"Yes it is dad," Brighton said.

"Look daddy, we know you two had a fight last night," Maggie said.

"And we know she’s staying at a hotel," Grace added.

Eve moved hesitantly toward her father. "We want you two to make up."

"Look, there are certain things you don’t understand," Maxwell replied.

"You know dad," Brighton said, "that’s always been your problem."

Maxwell dropped the knife on the countertop. "What has always been my problem Brighton?"

Ignoring his father’s indignant tone, Brighton continued. "You’ve always underestimated us just like you’ve always underestimated mom."

"You don’t give mom credit," Jonah said. "She’s a lot wiser and a lot smarter than you think. Mom would never do anything that would harm you or cause you pain."

"Now wait just a minute. I do not appreciate what you all are saying. I do not underestimate your mother. I know she’s a very intuitive and intelligent woman."

Maggie looked at her father. "You say it, but do you honestly mean it?"

"Margaret!"

"I’m sorry daddy but sometimes you talk down to mom instead of talking to her."

"Daddy," Grace began, "I feel safe in speaking for my sisters and brothers when I tell you to stop acting like a putz and bring our mother home!"

He folded his arms across his chest but his withering stare did not intimate Grace.

"All right, that does it! I have heard quite enough from the five of you. I will not allow my own children to bully me! Your mother and I will work out our problems on our own, without any interference from any of you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

They all filed solemnly out of the room. As Maxwell set the leftovers on the countertop, he was shocked to find Maggie still in the kitchen.

"There will be no further discussion regarding the situation between your mother and myself Margaret."

"Fine but I’m going to tell you what I have to say whether you want to hear it or not." She took a deep breath and continued. "I know we can’t make you do anything you don’t want to but daddy, we need Fran just as much as you do. Jonah and Eve are fortunate that they don’t know what its like not to have a mother in their lives. I mean she’s our mother too but Grace, Brighton, and I remember what it was like not having a mom for a long time."

"Margaret, you don’t -"

"Please daddy, let me finish. Fran changed us. She changed you. What I don’t understand is why you lose track of that sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. I loved - I love my real mom. But I love Fran too." She moved toward the door. "Whatever you need to do to rectify this problem, do it as soon as possible. We want our mother back home."

He stood for a long time, staring at the empty space where his eldest child stood. His mind was still reeling from the confrontation with his children. Picking up his sandwich, Maxwell had no desire for food. He left the sandwich on the counter and headed back to the safety of his bedroom.

* * * * *

Fran lay in bed; her bloodshot eyes stared at the ceiling. She hadn’t gotten much sleep after her phone call to Maxwell. She remembered the wounded pleading sound in his voice.

It pained her knowing she was hurting him. Maybe leaving wasn’t the adult thing to do but she had to get away from him as soon as she possibly could.

Fran was pretty sure everyone heard them argue. Her heart ached at the thought of not being there for her family. They needed her. She needed them. But Fran needed time to sort things out before she confronted Maxwell. What she really needed was someone to talk to.

Niles was in California. Fred and Val were in Florida and her parents were in Israel. The one other person she’d talk to when she wanted advice was the person she needed to talk about. Thoughts about contacting Joanna sprang to mind but Fran dismissed the notion. This was something she had to work out on her own.

She had to get out of bed. She couldn’t continue to lie there all day and sink further into a depression. Yet she couldn’t move. Before she knew it, tears spilled across her cheeks. A pang of misery and loneliness curled and settled in her stomach. Fran drew herself into a fetal position and let her emotions flow.

Darkness sheathed the room when Fran woke up a few hours later. She turned over to look at the clock and was shocked to discover how late it actually was. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she shuffled toward the bathroom.

Flipping on the light switch, Fran gasped at her reflection. Oy, I’m a mess! My eyes are puffy and my hair looks like I’ve been shocked by electricity.

Steam filled the bathroom as Fran stepped under the spray, letting the hot water cascade over her body. She felt the stress of yesterday’s events melt from her as she shampooed her hair. What is it about washing your hair that releases stress, she wondered.

Slipping into a clean robe, Fran made her way to the bed. Her mind and body felt cleansed and renewed. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding Fran that she had not eaten since yesterday morning. She giggled at the thought that if her mother knew, Sylvia would accuse her of completely turning into a shiksa.

In the middle of drying her hair, Fran realized that the only clothes and personal items she had with her was what she wore yesterday when she came to the hotel.

Either Fran would have to call home and ask someone to bring her a change of clothes or she would have to rinse out a few things and order room service. Before she really thought about her options, Fran dialed the number to the townhouse.

* * * * *

Making her way down the hallway, Thelma shifted the overnight bag between her left and right hand. She ticked the room numbers off in her head until she found Fran’s door. Taking a deep breath, Thelma raised her hand and lightly tapped on the door.

"I really appreciate you bringing me a few things," Fran said when Thelma entered the room.

"You’re welcome Mrs. Sheffield. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you." As Thelma reached for the doorknob, Fran said, "Don’t go yet. Give me a few minutes and I’ll walk out with you."

As Fran entered the bathroom, Thelma unbuttoned her coat and laid it across the chair. She stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. By the time Fran emerged from the bathroom, Thelma had neatly restored the room.

"Thelma, you didn’t have to clean up my room. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done but it wasn’t necessary."

"I know Mrs. Sheffield. I needed something to keep me busy while I waited for you. And I didn’t really want to watch television." Reaching for her coat, Thelma said, "I’m ready when you are."

Fran and Thelma walked down the corridor in silence. They boarded the elevator, stepping to the rear of the car.

"Thank you again Thelma. For everything you’ve done for me."

"There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy to oblige." Glancing at the numbers indicating the elevator’s descent, Thelma turned to Fran. "Mrs. Sheffield, there’s something I need to tell you. We will not be alone when we enter the lobby."

Fran looked up and realized they were a few stops away from the lobby. "Who’s waiting for me? Is it Maxwell?"

"I’m not a liberty to say. Please don’t be angry with me." As they stepped off the elevator, Thelma turned and smiled at Fran. She gave Fran’s arm a light sympathetic squeeze. "Good night Mrs. Sheffield."

Fran drew in a deep breath. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of confronting Maxwell. Biting her lower lip, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that she was about to face a firing squad.

She closed her eyes, attempting to fortify her resolve. I can’t do this, Fran thought as she opened her eyes. I can’t see him. I’m going back upstairs. She started toward the bank of elevators when a familiar voice stopped her.

* * * * *

"Mommy!"

Jonah and Brighton raced across the lobby toward Fran’s outstretched arms. Grace, Eve, and Maggie stood back, watching their brothers tackle their mother.

"Look at them," Maggie said watching them sandwich Fran as they jumped up and down.

"They’re acting so immature," Grace replied.

Eve looked at her sisters shaking their heads at the continued spectacle of their brothers and mother laughing hysterically. Leaning over she whispered," Want to go join them?"

They stared at each other for a moment. In unison, they yelled, "Mom!"

They repeated the same scene their brothers created a few moments ago, not caring what the other patrons of the hotel thought. After their excited cries leveled, they entered the hotel’s restaurant and settled at a table near the back.

"I’ve missed you guys so much," Fran said brushing tears from her eyes.

"We’ve missed you too mom," Grace replied.

"And so does dad," Jonah added.

"I guess this means you know what happened?"

"Well mom, your voice does travel," Brighton said.

Fran nudged her eldest son with her elbow." I guess it went beyond Michigan this time."

"We talked to dad yesterday," Maggie said. "And then I talked to him on my own. I told him how lucky Jonah and Eve were because they didn’t know what it was like to lose a mom."

"I told dad that he always underestimated us and you," Brighton said.

"And I told him that you were a lot smarter than he realizes," Jonah added.

"I think Gracie gets the prize for telling daddy how we all felt," Eve said.

"Gracie, honey, what did you say to your father?"

"I told him to stop acting like a putz and bring you back home," she stated proudly.

"Oh Gracie, you didn’t?"

"I most certainly did."

Fran shook her head and smiled. Jumbled thoughts swirled in her head at her children’s vehement defense of her against their father. A mixture of shock, pride, and surprise coursed through her body. Grace, Maggie, Eve, Brighton, and Jonah watched their mother, trying to gage her emotions.

"I think we rendered her speechless," Brighton whispered.

"I’m trying to figure out the best way to reply to what you all told me." Taking a deep breath, Fran continued. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you said but this situation has to be resolved between me and your father."

"Oh my God!" Maggie gasped. "Quick, someone write this day down. Mom and dad not only agreed with each other but they virtually said the same thing."

The table was quiet until Jonah unsuccessfully tried to smother his snickering. Soon laughter erupted from everyone. Fran tried to be angry with her children but she couldn’t suppress her own laughter at Maggie’s statement.

"I’m sorry mom," Jonah said trying to control his laughing, "but it’s true. You and dad rarely agree on anything."

"It was just a matter of time," Brighton replied. "After living with someone for over twenty years, their personalities were bound to rub off on each other."

"Your father and I agree on lots of things," Fran said. "We agree on important issues that count."

"Such as?" Maggie asked.

"Well we agree that even though our children at times are a pain in the tuchas, we love you all very much."

"We love both of you too ma," Eve said.

After dinner, they strolled around the city, stopping briefly at a small ice cream parlor. When they reached the hotel, Fran stood awkwardly in front of her children.

Wanting to ask when she was coming home but afraid of her answer, Brighton, Grace, Jonah, and Eve hugged their mother and went back to the limousine. Maggie led her mother to a secluded spot in the lobby.

"Fran," she began nervously, "I know this fight between you and daddy can be resolved because I know how much you love each other. I mean it’s not like the others don’t know it but I guess I have a different perspective of things since I’ve become a mother."

"I guess your father and I can be pretty stubborn at times."

"True but it’s that passion that has helped your love for each other last all these years. I know you both need sometime to think about things but I’m going to tell you that same thing I told daddy. Whatever you need to do to rectify this problem, do it as soon as possible. We want our mother back home."

Fran smiled, cradling Maggie in her arms. "When did you become so smart?"

"When a beautiful Jewish woman blew into my life twenty-one years ago.

"It’s funny. It sounded so weird when you called me Fran."

"I know. I’ve called you mom for a long time. No matter what I call you, I’ll always love you."

"I love you too baby."

"I’d better go. Knowing Brighton, he’ll try to leave without me."

"He’d better not or he’ll have me to deal with."

Maggie hugged Fran and kissed her on the cheek. "Come home soon mom."

* * * * *

Maxwell woke to total darkness. The only source of light came from the clock’s glowing numbers. Switching on the lamp, he sat up in bed. The house was abnormally silent for this time of night. Where is everyone, he wondered.

Since Michael had taken Sara and MJ to visit his parents in Long Island a few days ago, he was sure they had no idea what happened between himself and Fran. His heart ached at the thought of his absent wife. He didn’t want to push her but he needed to know when she was coming home.

Everything in the house reminded him of their life together. He sighed and reluctantly moved off the bed. When he stretched to his full height, he noticed an envelope sitting on the edge of the dresser.

Making his way across the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Good Lord, I look awful he thought, stunned by his reflection. Maxwell focused his attention back to the envelope. Fran wrote his name across the center in her soft, feminine penmanship.

He bought the envelope to his lips, lightly pressing it against his mouth. He began to open it but changed his mind. He’d save it to read after he cleaned up and got something to eat.

After he showered, shaved, and changed into a fresh set of clothes, Maxwell grabbed the envelope and headed for the kitchen. He found Robert sitting at the counter with the shopping ads spread out before him, writing out the grocery list on a notepad.

"Good evening Robert."

"Good evening Mr. Sheffield."

"Where is everyone?"

"Thelma went to the movies. I don’t know where the children are." Maxwell nodded, wondering if Robert truly didn’t know or just wasn’t telling him the whereabouts of his children. "Would you like me to fix you something to eat?"

"If you wouldn’t mind. Nothing too heavy. I’ll be in my office."

"Of course sir."

Maxwell was about to step inside his office when heard the front door open. Dropping the envelope on his desk, he walked across the hall and entered the living room. Maggie, Grace, Jonah, Brighton, and Eve gathered in front of the closet, hanging up their coats.

"Good evening children."

"Hi daddy," Grace, Maggie, and Eve replied.

Both Jonah and Brighton answered him with a "Hey dad."

"You look much better than you did earlier," Maggie said.

A wide grin crossed Brighton’s face. "Yeah. Almost human."

Maxwell ignored his son’s comment. "So, where have you five been?"

They looked at one another, unsure of whether or not they should tell their father where the spent the evening. Eve spoke up, making the decision for them.

"We had dinner with ma."

"Oh." Maxwell tried to remain neutral but couldn’t hide the sadness that laced his voice. "How – how is your mother?"

"To be honest dad, a lot like you," Jonah replied. "On the outside she’s fine. On the inside, she’s a wreck."

"Did your mother mention when she was coming home?"

Maggie shook her head. "No daddy. I’m sorry."

His body stiffened, bracing himself against the overwhelming sadness that sank into his soul.

"Mr. Sheffield?"

He took a deep breath and turned to face his butler. "Yes Robert?"

"I’ve prepared your tray. Do you still want to have dinner in your office?"

"Yes, thank you." Maxwell turned his attention back to his children. Sensing the awkwardness of the moment but unsure of how to break it, he simply said, "It’s been a long day. I’ll let you all go about your evening."

Eve, Brighton, Jonah, and Grace bid their father good night, slowly ascending the staircase. Maggie moved hesitantly toward her father.

"Daddy? Are you all right?"

"I’m fine Margaret."

"Everything will be just fine."

"I wish I shared your confidence."

"It will because I have faith and I believe it to be so."

Brushing her hair from her face, he said, "You are so much like your mother."

Maggie grinned. "Which one?"

He laughed, kissing her cheek. "Both."

"Good night daddy," she said returning his kiss.

"Good night sweetheart."

* * * * *

Pushing the tray aside, Maxwell pressed the napkin to his lips before dropping the crumpled cloth in the empty soup bowl. Sliding his finger under the lip of the envelope, he pulled the manuscript out and read the note written in the corner.

Did she still love him? Of course she does, his conscious answered sharply. As she often told him over the course of their sixteen-year-old marriage, if she didn’t truly love him during the five years before they were married, she would have left him the first time he had broken her heart.

He looked down at the gold band that encircled his finger. The simple ring on his left hand symbolized that he was hers forever and he would do anything to make her happy. With his newfound resolve, Maxwell picked up the manuscript and began to read.

Fran impressed him with the insight and dialogue she had written into her characters. I wonder who helped her, he thought as a smile crossed his face. When Maxwell reflected about the evolution of his wife, his smile faltered.

She was not the same woman who appeared out of nowhere selling cosmetics. While the core of her personality remained the same, Fran’s outside persona had changed considerably. He was proud of how dignified Fran was whenever she was on his arm at social gatherings.

That’s when his children’s words came back to haunt him. Maxwell wasn’t surprised by Brighton and Maggie’s comments. What shocked him were Jonah’s remarks.

Fran and Jonah shared a special bond, a connection that went beyond the normal mother-son, flesh and blood relationship. They had a true understanding of each other because their minds worked in a similar fashion. Fran knew how to reach Jonah in ways he couldn’t. She had that ability with all their children.

Before, he couldn’t identify what gnawed at his soul for years. Initially he chalked it up to Fran’s loving nature but their time apart forced Maxwell to examine and re-evaluate his thoughts and feelings about Fran and their family. As he drummed his fingers gently on the desk, one word floated in his mind. Jealousy.

That one word seemed too simple for the complex situation he found himself in but Maxwell realized it was true. He was jealous of Fran’s relationship with their children. It was warm and loving, everything his relationship with his own mother wasn’t.

An odd thought crossed his mind; he wondered if Grace would give him a discount when he became her first patient. Laughter bubbled up inside him. He felt an immense relief at his outburst as his laughter flooded the office.

He turned his wrist over to check the time. Somehow he wasn’t surprised that it was nearly one in the morning. Tucking the manuscript under his arm, Maxwell picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen. He loaded the dishwasher, grabbed Fran’s story, and headed upstairs.

After he changed into his pajamas, Maxwell stretched across the bed and flipped back to the page he had been reading downstairs. He was half way through Fran’s story when the phone rang.

The manuscript flew out of his hand, fanning the pages across the floor. Muttering a curse, Maxwell swiped the manuscript by its stapled edge with one hand and grabbed the phone with the other.

"Max, is everything okay?"

"Fran?"

"Yes. Are you all right?"

"I’m fine. I just had a minor problem getting to the phone."

"You weren’t asleep, were you?"

"No, I wasn’t asleep. How are you?"

"Okay. You?"

"The same." He took a deep breath. "Sweetheart, are you coming home soon?"

"That’s what I want to talk to you about. Will you meet me tomorrow for breakfast?"

"Where?"

"At the restaurant in the hotel. Around eight?"

"All right. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night darling."

"Good night sweetie. I love you."

"I love you too."

He held the phone to his chest as a bright smile lit up his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. Maxwell set the phone on the nightstand and resumed reading Fran’s story. His lighthearted mood weakened three quarters of the way through the story.

He reread the dialogue between Raven and Alain after her discharge from the hospital. Maxwell again wondered about the hidden meaning of the words Fran chose to express her heroine’s thoughts and feelings.

His heart raced as he quickly flipped through the story to see how it ended. Maxwell clung to her words desperately as if it were a crystal ball.

Maxwell placed the manuscript on the nightstand. Turning out the light, he slipped under the covers and settled in bed. Pulling her pillow into his arms, he inhaled the fading scent of her perfume and wondered if her story foreshadowed their future.

* * * * *

Maxwell entered the restaurant shortly after eight. He scanned the room until he found Fran sitting at a corner table sipping a glass of orange juice. His eyes swept over her, appreciating the way her red v-neck sweater clung to her body.

Fran drew in a sharp silent breath as he made his way toward her table. The cream-colored turtleneck contrasted with the black pants and jacket he wore. Images of stripping the clothes from Maxwell’s body danced in her head.

"Good morning darling."

"Good morning."

"I didn’t think you’d be here already."

"To be honest, I didn’t get much sleep last night."

"You look gorgeous."

She blushed under his gaze. "Thank you. You look very handsome this morning."

He smiled his thank you as he settled across from her. They stared at each other, an awkward silence hanging between them. As the waiter approached their table, Fran and Maxwell grabbed their menus, hastily scanning each item.

After the waiter took their order, Maxwell blew out a sigh. "That was smooth."

Fran laughed. "Oh yeah, as smooth as gravel."

Maxwell watched her laugh. He loved her smile. He loved everything about the woman sitting across from him. What amazed him was that as long as they had known each other, he was still discovering hidden aspects of her personality.

His children’s accusations crowded his mind. Bloody hell, who taught them to be free independent thinkers? A slow smile crept across his face as his conscious answered the question for him.

Fran instilled in them confidence, independence, intelligence, and the ability to believe they could achieve anything they set their minds to. Before he knew it, his thoughts spilled from his mouth.

"How is it that I’m still discovering things about you?"

"What are you talking about Max?

"The fact that you’ve been my friend, my wife, and my lover for the past twenty-one years, and I still don’t truly know you; that I’m still learning things about you."

"No one tells absolutely everything about themselves."

Maxwell shook his head. "Sara knew me inside and out."

"I’d be willing to bet that you didn’t tell Sara everything just like you don’t tell me everything. And if you say you did, you’d be lying."

Maxwell opened his mouth to defend himself and found that he couldn’t. "And you’ve never been curious?"

"Not really because if you wanted to share it with me, you would have."

They stopped talking when the waiter approached their table. Setting their plates in front of them, he asked if they needed anything before quickly excusing himself.

"I guess they were right," Maxwell said as he absently moved his food around his plate.

"Who?"

"The children. They confronted me the day after our argument. Needless to say I was chastised sufficiently by them for doubting your - " He paused, searching for a word or phrase that wouldn’t offend her.

"You can say intelligence Max. I already know what happened with you and the kids."

"Ah yes, that’s right. You had dinner with them. I should have known they would have told you what happened."

"Coupled with the fact that I know you think that I’m a bit dense at times. But honey, I’m not the same person I was when we first met."

"No, you’re not. I am the one who did not evolve – at least as far as you are concerned. I am sorry that I have thought less of you. You truly are an intelligent woman Fran. You’re wise and thoughtful and loving and hopefully forgiving."

"Max, you know you can count on me to be there for you in every way."

"I know I can. Believe me when I tell you that I’ve been very grateful to have you in my life." Maxwell slowly sipped his coffee, gathering the courage to continue. "You know our time apart gave me time to think about things. I realized that part of my problem is that I’m jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Of your relationship with our children. It is something I never had with my own mother. You came from a close-knit family. You had a warm, loving environment and so do our children. I wish I had that connection growing up but I didn’t. Sometimes I wish I were more open with my feelings."

"You are a wonderful, loving father. You have come a long way from that repressed man I first met. You are a lot more open with our kids and our grandkids. You have no need to feel jealous."

Maxwell finished his coffee, digesting Fran’s words. He always loved and admired her ability to comfort him and their family. As he set the cup on its saucer, thoughts of being a sad, lonely man for the remainder of his life crept into his conscious. He had to ask. Her answer could either nurture or slay his fears.

"I’m losing you, aren’t I?"

"What?"

"I’m losing you." His statement was uncharacteristically timid.

"Max, you’re not losing me."

"Yes I am. I can feel it. You’re drifting away from me and I feel powerless to do anything about it."

"What makes you think you’re losing me?"

"Maybe its just life things: work, the children, our personal problems. I know that every couple from time to time experience boredom with one another."

Fran stared at Maxwell. "You’re bored with me?"

"No! No what I mean is that when a couple that has known each other as long as we have, things become predictable."

"I suppose that’s true. I remember the last time we went through this."

"But this feels different. This is more than just complacency. Fran, I don’t want to lose what we have, what we’ve found with each other."

"Do you doubt my love for you?"

Maxwell drew back, surprised by her question. "Of course not! It’s just that…I think we need to be reminded of our love for one another."

"I completely agree," Fran said leaning over to kiss him.

"I guess that’s why I freaked out when you told me about the story you were submitting. I would be devastated by the thought of not having you in my life."

"I don’t quite see the connection of your losing me with you being upset about my writing."

"Even though you changed names and circumstances, that story represents loss. Those characters originated from us. That story would be like having a permanent record of my suffering and loneliness."

"I can kind of understand what you’re saying but Max, it’s just a story. You didn’t lose me. You won’t lose me. We made a vow to each other until death parts us. And even then you won’t be able to get away from me that easily."

He intertwined their hands. "I can’t imagine my life without you. You know I finally read the story. It could use some fine tuning but you’re right, it’s a good story."

"You really think so?"

"Yes."

"Oh Max, you don’t know what that means to me." Drawing a deep breath, she said, "I’ve been doing some thinking about what you said. I understand why you were upset but I just thought that it would be the basis of a good story."

"I know. And the advice writers are always given is write what you know."

"So does this mean if I submit my story that you’re going to be okay with it?"

"Yes. I told you before and I’ll tell you again. I’ll support you in any endeavor you wish to pursue."

"I love you Max."

"I love you too Fran."

They finished breakfast in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After paying the bill, Fran and Maxwell walked out of the restaurant hand in hand.

She softly tugged his arm, indicating for him to follow her. As the elevator made its way to her floor, Fran lightly ran her thumb over the back of Maxwell’s hand. He tried not to let his emotions get ahead of him but he hoped it was a sign that she was coming home.

Neither of them said a word as she led him down the hall to her room. He watched Fran slide the card key in the lock and open the door. As he turned to close the door, she pushed him against it, seizing his mouth in a rough, demanding kiss.

All rational thoughts left his brain as her fingers burrowed through his thick hair. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her body closer to his. As quickly as Fran captured Maxwell, she released him.

"I’ve missed you," she breathed heavily.

He swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control. "I take it this means you’re coming home?"

She nodded, a wide smile forming on her face. Lacing her fingers with his, they began to move toward the bed.

Fran slid her palms under his sweater, lightly massaging his chest. "I have the room for a few more hours. Want to put the remaining time to good use?"

"It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you," Maxwell whispered against her ear, "but when I do, I want to take you in our bed."

She smiled as a delicious shiver radiated throughout her body. Slipping her arms around his neck, Fran whispered, "Take me home."

* * * * *

Sara leaned against the oversized chair, watching her brother plot his next move. They had been in a checkers show down since they returned from visiting their grandparents in Long Island.

"Give it up squirt. I’ve got you cornered."

"Not on your life," MJ replied. "It’s a battle to the death."

Michael looked at his namesake. "MJ, your sister’s beaten you eight out of ten games."

"That’s not the point dad. I beat her twice before. I can do it again."

Maggie leaned over to Michael. "It must be something about sisters and brothers competing against each other. I swear sometimes Sara and MJ sound like me and Brighton growing up."

Michael laughed and kissed her temple. "There’s something to be said about sibling rivalry."

Sara was about to comment on her parent’s conversation when the front door opened. "Grandma! Granddaddy!"

Maggie turned as Sara and MJ ran toward them, throwing their arms around their grandparents. Jonah, Grace, Eve, and Brighton entered the living room, wondering what was behind the high-pitched squealing. They smiled at the sight of their parents led into the living room by their niece and nephew.

"Did you have a good time visiting your daddy’s parents?" Fran asked settling next to Maggie on the couch.

"It was a lot of fun, although we missed both of you."

Fran hugged Sara and MJ. "I missed both of you too. So what did you get?"

"We got a lot of clothes," Sara replied.

"And money," MJ added.

"They gave us toys and games and stuff. Grandma gave me this doll that’s over a hundred years old! Wait, I’ll go get it."

"I want to show them my stuff too!" MJ whined.

"Hey you two, no running in the house!" Michael shouted following behind them.

"I’m glad you’re home," Eve said.

"We all are," Brighton added kissing Fran on the cheek.

"Me too. I was so lonely without you all."

Robert made his way down the staircase and entered the living room. "Mrs. Sheffield, I’ll carry your bag upstairs to the master bedroom."

"Thank you Robert." Turning to Maggie, Fran asked, "Do Sara and MJ know about what happened?"

"No. They haven’t been here that long."

"Good."

Sara, MJ, and Michael came back into the living room to show the family their prized possessions.

"Excuse me," Maggie said, "weren’t you two in the middle of playing checkers?"

"Oh yeah," MJ said. "I’m going to destroy you."

"Fat chance you little monster."

"Mom, did you hear what Sara called me?"

"Don’t go crying to mom. You need to learn how to defend yourself."

"Why can’t you two ever play nice?" Michael asked. "No more name calling. Go put your toys away."

"But daddy!" MJ and Sara whined.

"Do what your father said. Now march!" Watching her children head slowly upstairs, Maggie rose from the couch. "I bet that’s one thing you didn’t miss."

"Actually I did," Fran replied. "They remind me a lot of you and Brighton. And Brighton and Gracie. And Jonah and Eve."

"Must be something about having silly brothers in this family," Eve whispered to Grace.

"Hey we heard that!" Jonah and Brighton shouted.

"So what? You won’t do anything about it," Grace replied.

Maxwell stood, offering Fran his hand. "So your mother and I won’t have to witness any bloodshed, we’re leaving. Whoever survives, we’ll see you at dinner."

* * * * *

"Tired sweetheart?" Maxwell asked as they entered their bedroom.

Fran nodded, attempting to stifle a yawn. "I told you I didn’t get much sleep last night."

"Why don’t you lie down for a little while?"

Fran slipped off her shoes and stretched across the bed. "Hotel beds are okay but there’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed." Maxwell sat beside her, stroking her cheek. She took his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He nodded, moving to his side of the bed. As she settled in Maxwell’s embrace, Fran slid her arm under his, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Don’t forget we have plans later," he said kissing her forehead. "I intend on ravishing you tonight."

"I certainly hope so. Love you."

"I love you too. Go to sleep."

Maxwell woke up an hour later. Gently easing her body from his, he covered Fran with the afghan that lay at the foot of the bed and lightly kissed her cheek before heading downstairs. When he entered the kitchen, Maxwell was surprised to see Jonah, Maggie, Eve, Michael, Grace, and Brighton sitting around the table talking.

"Since there was no bloodshed and all my children are alive and well, I assume a peace treaty was worked out?"

"We called a draw," Brighton said.

"That’s because you took unfair advantage of the situation," Maggie replied.

"Michael is our brother-in-law. It’s only fair that he help us," Jonah countered.

"Come on Maggie, how can you have mismatched opponents in a snowball fight?" Michael asked.

Maggie swept a lock of her long blond hair behind her ear. "Don’t worry. I’ll get you back."

Michael smiled. "I certainly hope so."

"Can you two knock it off?" Brighton asked. "You’re almost as bad as mom and dad."

"Just wait until Laurie has you trapped and at her mercy," Grace said. "Then you’ll be singing a different tune."

"I think I’ll just grab a sandwich and go to my office," Maxwell said. "The less I know the better."

"Where’s ma?" Eve asked.

"She’s asleep," Maxwell replied putting a sandwich and some chips on his plate. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "She’s awfully tired, so please let her rest."

The six of them watched him tuck a napkin under his plate. Pushing the door open with his hip, Maxwell disappeared from the kitchen.

"I wonder if he realized he was whistling a Barbra Streisand song." Brighton said.

"Some how I doubt it," Grace replied.

* * * * *

Maxwell ate lunch, happily consumed by thoughts of Fran sleeping soundly in their bed. He leaned back in the chair, letting a warm, blissful glow envelop him. Nothing could alter his mood, not even the abandoned manuscript David Jacobs couriered to him.

Pushing his plate aside, Maxwell picked up the few messages left on top of his desk. He crumpled the paper and tossed them into the trash. Once he finished reviewing the script, he’d call David back.

* * * * *

Fran turned over, reaching out to snuggle against the warmth of Maxwell’s body only to be greeted by the coolness of the bedcovers. She switched on the lamp, shielding her eyes with her hand against the bright light flooding the room.

"Max?"

Pushing the afghan aside, Fran slipped off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Re-entering the bedroom, she opened the door and went in search of Maxwell.

As she entered the living room, a smile spread across her face at the sight of her children and grandchildren scattered around watching a movie.

Nudging Grace’s shoulder, Fran asked, "Where’s your father?"

"He’s in his office."

"What are you guys watching?"

"A classic comedy, Mrs. Doubtfire." Fran looked at Grace. "What? To us, this is a classic. Look how old we were when it came out."

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes and exited the living room. Fran ran into Robert as she stepped into the hallway.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Sheffield."

"Good afternoon Robert. Thank you for unpacking my bag."

"You’re welcome. I’m happy you’re home. The house just wasn’t the same without you."

"Thank you. That’s very sweet of you. Is Maxwell still in his office?"

"Yes ma’am."

Fran tapped lightly on the door. She waited until she heard Maxwell answer before opening the door.

"Well here you are," she said entering the office. "I woke up expecting to be in the arms of my husband and all I found was a cold empty space."

"I’m sorry darling. I had to finishing reviewing the manuscript that David overnighted to me and return his multiple phone calls. How are you feeling? You look well rested."

"I am. How long have I been asleep?"

"About six hours."

"Wow, I must have been more tired that I thought."

Fran slid into his lap. Drawing her arms around his neck, she brushed her lips against his. Maxwell let her tongue explore his mouth, deepening their kiss. She pulled back to look at him.

"Are there anymore sandwiches left? I wouldn’t mind pastrami with American white cheddar cheese on pumpernickel with lettuce, tomato, and" she paused, smacking her lips slightly, "spicy deli mustard with some chips on the side and a bottle of water my self."

"How on earth did you know what I had for lunch?"

"I’ve got two words for you baby: kissing contest."

Maxwell smiled. "Oh yes. I remember that kiss very well. One of many of your kisses that I’ve enjoyed over the years." He gave her a long lecherous look. "Among other things."

"Max!" He traced the neckline of her sweater. She gently pushed away him. "Oh no you don’t. I plan to keep you busy tonight as well."

"Promise?"

"Definitely." Fran gave him a quick kiss. "See you later." She slid out of his lap and headed for the kitchen.

* * * * *

Fran watched the limousine as it disappeared down the street. Maggie pulled her aside earlier to tell her that they were all leaving the house to give them some privacy.

Shutting the door, she went to the study in search of Maxwell. When Fran entered the office, she was surprised to find it empty.

Making her way upstairs, Fran noted how oddly silent the house was. As she entered the bedroom, Maxwell walked out of the en suite, tying the sash around his waist.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Hello darling."

"Hi sweetie. I was wondering where you disappeared before the kids left."

"I have a special surprise waiting for you."

When she stepped into the bathroom, tea light candles were scattered in various corners, immersing the room in a soft, flickering light. The jacuzzi had been prepared for them, filled with thick foamy bubbles.

She slipped her arms around Maxwell’s neck and kissed him. "You’re just full of surprises."

"The evening’s young," he replied returning her kiss. "There’ll be more surprises waiting after our bath."

As he opened the door to leave, Fran asked, "Where are you going?"

"I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have to check on the rest of the details for our evening and make sure everything’s in place."

* * * * *

When he reentered the bathroom, Maxwell heard the gentle swish of the water as Fran’s hand swayed to the tune she hummed. As he drew closer, his mind leapt at the sight of her body barely covered in bubbles.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Come on in. The water’s warm."

"Close your eyes," he teased unknotting the sash.

Fran covered her eyes, looking through her slightly parted fingers. Maxwell settled across from her, sinking into the hot bathwater.

"You know, the view’s much better than the time I saw you in the shower."

"I knew you peeked!"

"I hope you don’t mind. You’re too sexy to resist."

Stretching out his hand, Maxwell beckoned her to him. "Come here."

Slicing through the soapy water, her body moved with a cat like grace as she made her way toward him. Fran bent her head toward his, grazing his lips with her own.

Maxwell’s hands slipped over her wet skin, encircling her in his arms. Parting from their kiss but not from his embrace, she turned around and settled against his chest. His lips caressed her skin, nibbling softly at the curve of her neck.

"Niles made an interesting comment to me one day while we were working on plans for your office."

"What did he say?"

"He said that we’ve been married for twenty-one years."

"But we’ve only been married for sixteen years."

"Darling, he knows how long we’ve been married."

"Then why did he say that?"

"Fran, its Niles we’re talking about. You know he says things just to be provocative. However, he did have a point. Even though you were working for me, we did act like a married couple."

Surprised by his honesty, she replied, "We shared just about everything; our thoughts, our dreams, our fears."

Maxwell smiled. "We argued - a lot."

"We did everything except for one important thing." She looked at him over her shoulder. "But you made up for that when we got married."

"Yes, and we’re still making up for it," he replied kissing her shoulder.

Fran pulled slightly out of his embrace to grab her bath sponge and body wash. Pouring the thick creamy gel onto the loofah, he took the sponge from her and began to wash her body.

Maxwell stared at the woman lying contently in his arms. She closed her eyes as her body relaxed against his. Maxwell realized that over the many years he knew Fran, he had slowly turned his soul over to her.

She owned him completely as he hoped he did her. Fran could never truly understand the depth of my love for her, he thought trailing his fingers down her arm.

Taking his hand in hers, she intertwined their fingers. "Do you know how much I love you?"

His mouth dropped open in shock. Although he shouldn’t have been surprised, it still unsettled him when she read his thoughts.

Regaining his composure, Maxwell replied, "I can only hope as much as I love you." He kissed the nape of her neck. "I’m sorry about what happened the other day."

"Don’t worry about it Max. That’s in the past."

Maxwell sighed. "You don’t understand."

Fran turned in the tub to face him. "What don’t I understand?"

"I was already angry with David for sending that damn script overnight and even angrier at myself for doing work during our vacation. I took my anger out on you and I apologize for doing so. Can you ever forgive me?"

Leaning into him, she pressed her mouth to his. "There’s nothing to forgive because I already knew you were upset before we had our argument. I shouldn’t have left the house."

"You were angry."

"But after I calmed down, I should have come back to discuss it like an adult."

"When you didn’t come back right away, I began to panic. If I lost you, I would never forgive myself."

"I told you before I’m not going anywhere Maxwell Sheffield. You are stuck with me for eternity."

He rubbed his nose against Fran’s. "You are simply amazing."

"I love you too." Her fingertips traced his shoulder, leaving a soapy trail across his skin. "Max?"

"Yes Fran?"

"I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth."

"All right sweetheart. What do you want to know?"

Her hesitant eyes met his. It shouldn’t have mattered, but curiosity got the better of her.

"Remember when we were in Sacramento and you cooked for me?"

"Of course." Maxwell drew her in his arms. Pressing his lips against her ear, he whispered, "Do you want me to serve you breakfast in bed?"

"Hmmm. There’s an idea for later. What I want to know is – well, since your schedule was so busy, when did Niles or Robert have time to teach you how to cook?"

His eyes widened in shock. "How – how could you have known?"

"I just took a guess. So which one was it, Niles or Robert?"

"It was Niles. I was planning to surprise you this summer when we went on vacation but then my schedule became clear unexpectedly. I still can’t believe you knew."

"That’s what you get for underestimating your wife."

Maxwell leaned forward and kissed her. "I’ve learned my lesson. Believe me, I’ll never do that again."

"Well since you were truthful," Fran said taking the washcloth from his hand, "I guess you should be rewarded."

She dipped her hand in the water. Lathering the gel into the cloth, Fran gently ran the soapy cloth over his skin, washing him the same way he bathed her earlier. They frolicked in the water, sensually and playfully touching each other.

When the bathwater cooled, they rose from the tub, wrapping themselves in warm thick fluffy towels. Slipping into his robe, Maxwell secured the sash around his waist, curled his hand in Fran’s, and bought it to his lips.

"Give me a moment before you come out. I want to make sure everything is ready for you."

* * * * *

As Fran entered their bedroom, she gasped in delight. Candles of all sizes and vases of long stem roses adorned the room.

Light jazz hummed softly in the background. The black floor length gown she wore fluttered around her as she glided across the room. Maxwell extended his hand, offering her a champagne flute.

"You’ve been busy," she replied watching him pour the sparkling wine in the glass.

"I wanted our first night together to be very special."

"This makes me wonder what else you have planned for the evening."

"Have a little patience sweetheart." Raising his glass, he smiled. "To us."

She met his with a light tap. "To us."

They watched each other sip the effervescent liquid. Setting his flute on the table, Maxwell took the glass from Fran’s hand.

"Dance with me?"

Wordlessly she slipped into his embrace. Fran hummed contently, swaying to the rhythm of the music. Her mouth parted against his as he threaded his tongue between her lips. Her hands slid downward, stroking his back as they danced.

Slipping loosely from her arms, Fran’s eyes followed the movement of his hand and watched him pluck a strawberry from the crystal bowl resting on side table. Holding the berry to her lips, Fran parted her mouth, gnashing the fruit between her teeth.

Maxwell watched the juice dribble from the corner of her mouth. He licked the trail from her skin, savoring the flavor of the berry that balanced perfectly with the taste of her on his tongue.

Picking up a berry, she pressed the fruit lightly against his lips. He was about to open his mouth to take a bite when Fran moved it, dangling the strawberry teasingly out of reach. A flush of desire welled within her as she watched Maxwell brush the fruit with his tongue, slowly circling its tip.

Fran could almost feel the softness of Maxwell’s mouth on her breasts, licking and tasting her flesh as she watched him obscenely suck the fruit. He heard her gasp; her breath grew shallow with each passing moment.

When he could stand it no longer, he grabbed her wrist and drew the fruit to his mouth, nibbling at the fullest part of the berry. His right hand slowly cupped her breast, caressing her nipple through the negligee. His fingers moved up her arm to brush the thin strap from her shoulder.

As the loop slipped from her shoulder, her gown fell in a slash of black silk across her torso. He reached over and plucked the berry from her hand. Her nipple tightened as he caressed her with the tip of the fruit. Placing it against her swollen flesh, Maxwell slowly bit down into the berry, drawing the tip of the fruit into his mouth along with the tip of her breast.

His left hand repeated the actions of his right, stroking her nipple with this thumb. Her moans became louder, whispering his name in heavy desire. He switched the partially eaten berry back to his left hand, rubbing the fruit against her skin before drawing them back into his mouth.

Steadying herself against his body, Fran slipped her hand between the slits in his robe and caressed his hardness. She felt his moan reverberate throughout his body when she pressed her palm against him.

She slipped the remaining strap from her shoulder, letting the gown fall softly down her body. With the remains of the berry, Maxwell drew a liquid trail from her chest over her stomach, down to the curve of her hips. His mouth followed suit, pausing to lick and nibble her skin.

"You are so beautiful, so desirable," he whispered between kisses. "I never tire of wanting you."

Parting her thighs, Maxwell slowly licked the length of her soft wet flesh. She began to sway, pushing her hips against his probing tongue.

His name tumbled from her lips in an incoherent moan. Every fiber within her body tightened, pushing her to the edge of pleasure. He teased her, alternating the movement of his tongue.

"Maxwell," she pleaded, drawing his name out in a desperate moan. "Max…"

Cries of ecstasy filled the room as her limp, satiated body slumped against his. Maxwell drew her into his arms, cradling Fran as her breathing began to settle.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded as her breath began to even out. As their lips met in a soft kiss, she tasted the dewiness of her sex laced with the flavor of strawberries and champagne.

Looking into his eyes, Fran whispered, "Take me to our bed Maxwell. Make love to me."

Her fingers unknotted the sash, pushing the robe from his shoulders. She caressed his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles. Maxwell gathered her in his arms and carried her to their bed.

Pressing her lips against his neck, Fran nibbled on his skin, drawing his flesh into her mouth. She felt his hungry growl rumble through him as he lowered his body next to hers.

"Fran, you have no idea how much I missed you. I ached for your voice, your presence. I love you so much my darling."

He kissed her, brushing his lips down the length of her inner arms and wrists. The tip of his tongue darted out, caressing the center of her palms before softly kissing her hands.

Maxwell stretched the full length of his body against Fran. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved her mouth close to his.

He could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth. She kissed his lips, starting at the corner of his upper lip, moving to form a complete circle.

Slowly she licked his lips until she felt his tongue touch hers. As she opened her mouth to accept him, Fran pushed him onto his back.

"Do you want me?" she asked grinding her hips into his. He drew in a sharp intake of breath as Fran pressed her lips against his throat. His eyes closed, lost in the sensation of her body moving against his.

"You know I do," he hoarsely replied. His stomach tightened as her tongue spiraled around his belly button, dipping inside his navel. "Fran - please."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Not yet."

His control was weakening. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand her delicious torture. Maxwell gasped when he felt her tongue trace his hard length. She slowly circled the tip of his manhood before engulfing his thickened flesh between her lips.

The sight of him slowly slipping in and out of her mouth mesmerized him. He fought the rising desire to plunge himself into her full wet mouth.

When he slid from parted her lips, Fran bore the hungry look of a lioness ready to devour her prey as she edged along his frame. Positioning herself over his hips, she lowered her body onto his.

Fran paused, savoring the delicious sensation of his manhood trapped inside her body. His hands spread across her back, folding his arms around her waist.

As she pressed her mouth against his, Maxwell slowly switched their positions. When Fran’s eyes locked with his, a heavy moan poured from her throat. Her insides knotted in passion and desire as she answered each stroke and thrust of his body with her own.

Fran contemplated the above her as he murmured her name in a declaration of love. Her love for Maxwell went beyond their physical expression. She was bound to him, emotionally and spiritually. They were the true definition of soul mates.

She clung to his body, wrapping her legs around his waist. Panting his name, she arched her body into his a final time as she cried out in ecstasy.

He allowed himself the pleasure of watching her lose herself to the sensation of their lovemaking. She was always beautiful to him, never more so than when he witnessed her in the peak of passion.

Mere words could not express the happiness he felt as she openly gave of and reciprocated their mutual love. She tempered his stoic solid reasoning with her fiery passion and zest for life. As he succumbed to their passionate lovemaking, his last clear thought was how he would love her forever.

They lay together, their arms wrapped loosely around each other. Both took gulps of air, waiting for their rapid heartbeats to calm.

Maxwell turned toward Fran and pressed his lips to hers. He reached down to intertwine their fingers.

"Don’t ever leave me again Fran. I couldn’t bear it. These past few days without you have been hell."

"I will never leave you again. I need you by my side always Max, just like you need me."

He smiled, tracing the contours of her face. "Bashert."

Fran closed her eyes against the sensation of his lips brushing across her skin. "Bashert," she whispered and captured his mouth with her own.

* * * * *

Fran stretched across the chaise lounge, enjoying the sunny April afternoon. Setting the legal pad on the table, she closed her eyes as the heat of the California sun warmed her body.

Her life had changed since their vacation to New York. Maxwell had become more supportive of her writing by proofreading her work, making suggestions, and giving her a swift kick in the tuchas when she needed it.

Even though she welcomed his help, it still surprised her when he helped her prepare her poem and story for submission to the magazine Joanna gave her. She even liked the title he suggested, Love’s Dance.

Fran felt someone standing over her. She looked up, meeting the eyes of the man who occupied her thoughts. He leaned over, meeting her lips in an upside down kiss.

"Good afternoon darling."

"Actually its now a very good afternoon," she replied with a quick smile and a wink. "How was your day?"

He sat on the edge of the chaise lounge. "Not bad, although I think this maybe the last season for the show."

"Why? I thought it was doing well."

"The ratings are starting to slip. The network brass is trying to decide whether the show should be canceled or try to salvage it." Stroking her thigh, Maxwell asked, "So what have you been up to today?"

"It was such a lovely day that I decided to write outside."

"How is your writing going?"

"Okay. I’ll let you read it a little later."

"Speaking of your writing, this came in the mail for you." Anxiety bloomed inside her as she stared at the envelope in her hand. "Aren’t you going to open it?"

"I can’t." Passing it back to him, she quietly asked, "Would you read for me?"

"Are you sure?"

At her nod, he began to lift the edges of the seal. He scanned the letter, slowly taking in the words on the page.

It can’t be good, she thought. He’s taking too long. "It’s okay Max. I already know what the letter says."

He arched his eyebrow. "Oh? What do you think it says?"

"Thank you for your submission, the work you sent in doesn’t meet out requirements, whoever said you could write lied, don’t bother us again."

"Now, would you like to know what the letter actually says?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Why not."

"Dear Ms. Sheffield, thank you for your submissions. Your poem, A Rose in Winter, will be published in the upcoming issue of The Virgin Chronicles. However, we decided not to publish your story, Love’s Dance. Although our staff enjoyed reviewing your submission, they felt that our magazine was not the proper forum to publish this particular work. Thank you for your submissions and best of luck with your future writing projects."

When she didn’t respond, Maxwell shook her by the shoulders. "Fran? Darling, are you all right?"

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Can you believe it? Something I wrote will be published for the entire world to see."

"I know," he said pulling her in his embrace. "Congratulations on your poem. I am sorry they decided not to publish your story. I thought it was quite good."

She took the letter from him to read the words for herself. "I never expected this to happen."

"See, Joanna was right. You took a chance and look what happened."

"You don’t think it’s a fluke do you?"

"Of course not. It’s an excellent poem. You should be proud of yourself."

"I am. I just can’t believe I’m going to be published!" She threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much Max. Thank you for trusting and believing in me."

"Anytime sweetheart."

As happy as she was, Fran couldn’t resist teasing Maxwell. "I’ll bet part of you is happy that my story was rejected."

"That’s not true Fran. I’m genuinely sorry that your story wasn’t published. I know I wasn’t that supportive at first, but - " He looked at her, watching the corners of her mouth form a smile. "You’re not really mad, are you?" Maxwell shook his head against her rising laughter. "You need to be punished young lady."

Fran leaned forward and kissed him. "Promise?"

"Most definitely. I think we should celebrate. Why don’t we give Robert the night off and take the children out to dinner." His eyes flicked down her body suggestively. "And then afterwards, when we come back, I can give you the proper punishment you deserve."

"Oh Mr. Sheffield," she murmured, "you can punish me anytime."

He kissed her again before he stood up. "I’ll go let Robert and the children know of our plans for the evening.

Fran smiled, watching Maxwell as he crossed the patio and entered the house. A myriad of emotions flowed through her. She was awestruck by the turn of events in her life. She had come a long way from her life in Queens.

Growing up, she dreamed of a wonderful life. Thanks to fate, her dreams came true. She had an adoring husband, five wonderful children, two terrific grandchildren, not to mention warm and loving parents, her sister, Val, and now Joanna.

Picking up the letter, Fran reread it, digesting the content and its meaning. Discovering this hidden aspect of her life, of her self, was a welcome surprise. She embraced it as she did life: passionately and whole-heartedly.

Yiddish words:

Tuchas: butt; backside

Shiksa: a gentile girl or woman

Nosh: to snack

Bei mir bist du shayn: to me you’re beautiful

Kibitz: meddle; intervene; to offer comments, which are often unwanted during a game;

to tease or joke around

Kvell: to beam with pride and pleasure

Yenta: a busybody, usually refers to an older woman

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

Fertummelt: befuddled; confused

Oy: an expression of dismay, pain or grief

Nudnik: a pest, a persistent and annoying person

Shmegegge: a petty person, an untalented person

Meshugeneh: crazy insane woman

Bashet: fated

Putz: a vulgarism for penis but mostly used as term of contempt for a fool, or an easy mark

These words and others can be found at: www.sbjf.org/sbjco/schmaltz/yiddish_phrases.html, www.koshernosh.com/daily.htm, http://www.lifetimetv.com/shows/nanny/index.html, and www.m-w.com

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