7.3 Sitcoms Of Our Lives

by

Dede
(kbbddhuy@email.msn.com)

Max entered the kitchen with Fran fast at his heels, her Cosmo magazine in hand.

"This is a really important question," she pleaded. Max sighed as he filled his coffee mug.

"All right, but you can't get upset with my answer," he reluctantly agreed to another Cosmo quiz. Fran smiled.

"Deal, but when have I ever… Okay, okay here goes…" she said and then studied the magazine page a moment, "Now, honestly, if you were going to have an affair with someone from my family, who would it be?" Max looked at her as if she had just asked him if he would prefer she shoot or stab him.

"This tells me about your personality!" she urged.

"Well, let's see, it would probably be…" he began, then paused to considered his options, "Your cousin Sophie."

"Oh," Fran soaked in the answer. Max walked out of the kitchen, rounded the corner, and checked his watch.

Fran came out the door, yelling after him a second later, "My cousin Sophie! You mean…" She waved her hands in an hourglass shape.

"Yes," Max said matter-of-factly.

"I can't believe you'd leave me for that," she whined. Max calmly sipped his coffee.

"We all know who you would pick on my side," he remarked in the midst of her tirade. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Satisfied that he had ended the argument, Max winked at her to notify Fran he wasn't mad.

"You're awfully moody this morning," she teased once her voice came back.

"Am not," he defended, knowing it was a losing battle.

"Are to," she countered as she followed him back into the kitchen, where he set his cup in the sink.

"I'm not, look, I just have this meeting that is making me nervous," Max explained in frustration.

"I'm sorry, honey, let me fix your tie," Fran said and began to futz with his blue tie, but nearly choked him.

"Just stop fussing." He tried to loosen his tie. "You have my pager, if you need me," he told her.

"Okay, well, good luck," she replied and kissed him on the cheek.

"Yes, thank you, sweetheart. Love you," he spoke as he left the room.

"Luv ya too, honey, bye." Fran waved to her husband, as she became engrossed in the magazine again.

C.C. entered Mr. Sherry's office with Max close behind. Unlike last time, Mr. Sherry and the young thing he had on his arm half the time at the dinner party were the only ones in there. Max was almost visibly relieved; he hated being out numbered and with C.C. at his side at least this time it was a fair fight.

After greetings were exchanged, Max and C.C. seated themselves. The girl, Brigitte, came around the desk and then leaned against it, right in front of Max. Her outfit reminded him of one of Fran's. It was a simple white skirt and top with a jacket over it, but everything was skin tight and either had a slit or seemed to be missing some material.

"Why we called this meeting Max, is frankly, yesterday we were ready to send you back to New York, but after meeting your family, in particular, your wife, Maury had an idea," she explained.

"We thank you for your honesty, what is it?" C.C. replied coolly, she could see how Max must have felt with many more people like this standing around him.

"Well, Rick Shaw and Frank Lombardi were so impressed at the party, they convinced me that we should make the show about your life," Mr. Sherry suggested.

"It is ever so fascinating," Brigitte added with sugar. It left an acid taste in C.C.'s mouth.

"You meaning the Broadway scene, a producer and his partner… behind the scenes stuff…" C.C. tried to get some clarification.

"Well, actually, we like the romantic angle and the comedic aspect too," Mr. Sherry maintained his 'I like funny,' attitude.

"Oh, the butler character, they sell great, you know Niles acts…" C.C. said, hoping this was a chance to get Niles out of the house.

"Well, as a side character, but we really want to center around Fran," Brigitte cut her off, "She seems to have a natural knack to be funny. We'll make it a modern day Cinderella story."

"Well, Fran certainly keeps my family laughing," Max remarked proud that unlike the socialites of New York, here Fran was making a splash, even if it had been literal last night.

"But wouldn't the story of a edgy, strong business woman appeal to the woman's lib demographic?" C.C. suggested desperately fighting a losing against Nanny Fine's personality, again, except this time she wasn't even around to say something stupid!

"Yes, but the sexy and street wise underdog does better," Brigitte informed her as if she had personal experience, which C.C. was pretty sure she did.

"I'll have to discuss this with my wife…" Max said slowly, having no intention of jumping into the lion's den.

Mr. Sherry was also watching the square-off; however, he seem to have amusement in his voice as he said, "Okay, not everyone wants their life immortalized on TV for people to judge…"

"I'm gonna be famous! Oh, this is so exciting!" Fran screamed with excitement and threw her arms around Max.

"Now, darling, this is a big decision to make and we all have to agree, that includes Maggie and Brighton…" he explained while attempting to breathe. They were back at the house, talking in the living room. Gracie was at Sylvia's and the twins were asleep.

"What's there to agree on, we're gonna be immortalized on film," Fran boomed, "Just like we were joking about last night." C.C. didn't need or want to know about their conversation.

"Nanny Fine, our lives and some of what has happened in the past six years might be in the series, but we are not starring in it or even using our names. And thank God! What would the girls in my old boarding school think if they knew that a show, a sit-com of all things, was being based on my life," C.C. responded. Max found it interesting that suddenly the show was about her life, again.

"They'd think most scenes would involve a bottle and a chorus boy," Niles interjected while pouring her some tea.

"To think I left all that behind for you and your feather duster," she teased and gave him a come-over-here-you-big-lug look. Niles sat down next to her on the couch and handed the cup over.

"All right can we PLEASE get back to business," Max said trying NOT to know what that comment had been about.

"Of course, honey, wha…" Fran paused looking at Niles and C.C. who seemed ready to head for the nearest broom closet, "Wha IS it?" She tried to defuse the situation by stepping between them, supposedly after the sugar, that is the sugar bowl.

"Well, basic ground rule: no real names, so we each have to come up with names we like and that suit our character," Max explained while trying to ignore the couple across from his armchair.

"Like instead of Niles… Miles?" Fran asked playfully from her seat on the armrest of Max's chair.

"Well, yes we could do it like that… I would think of myself as a David..." he answered and became lost in thought.

"I'm not a Miles, am I?" Niles had barely heard Fran, but he wanted C.C.'s opinion on a good name for him.

"Really, I thought of you more as a Charles or a James…" Fran replied.

"Giles would suit you," C.C. suggested.

"I don't intend to use my father's name…" Max said still a bit bitter when it came to his family.

"Giles, it is," Niles agreed with his wife.

"Charles then," Fran proclaimed at the same time.

"What?" C.C. asked. The two couples finally looked at each other.

"Okay, I think I missed something," Fran said. Just then the baby monitor alerted her to Eve's familiar cry. Max sighed, this was going to take a while. Thank goodness, their next meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon.

Fran was up early this morning, even though Max had been nice enough to say she could sleep-in and he would take care of the twins. She was interviewing the butler that had responded to her ad today. Max and C.C. were busy in his office making phone calls and trying to hammer out the legal details of turning Fran Fine Sheffield into her name choice, (that is after Barbra Joan) Karen Kline.

The doorbell rang and Fran answered it, hoping it was the last time she would HAVE to do that. On the other side stood a striking young man. He was in his thirties with sandy hair and soft green eyes. He was tan and muscular, but not overly so. The man wore Arizona jeans with a white dress shirt and carried a small black satchel.

"Hi, are you here for the butler job?" she greeted him with her usual disposition; however, his looks did appeal to old habits.

"Yeah, Michael Scape, I hope I'm not late," he said with a laid-back tone.

"Nope, right on time, come on in." Fran stepped aside and he walked in.

"Thanks, you must be Mrs. Sheffield," he assumed and she nodded.

"Let me show you into the living room, where we can talk." Fran turned to lead the way.

"You sound different than you did over the phone," he said hoping that was a tactful way to bring up her voice… wow, what an accent.

"Oh, no, you talked to Gracie. She's my daughter and was kind enough to pre-screen people for me," Fran replied, "She says sometimes I'm too trusting." She said the words as if she didn't understand why Gracie thought that.

"It's nice to have a good relationship with mishpucha.," Michael said as they reached the room.

"How did you know I was Jewish?" she asked sitting on the couch and inviting him to join her.

"My family is really strong in their beliefs, after awhile you get radar," he tried to joke. Fran didn't lose her smile, so he figured it must have worked.

"So, may I see your resume?" Fran inquired as professionally as possible.

"Sure." He handed it to her absentmindedly. Michael was concentrating on the skylights. Beautiful and fancy, yes…. but how to clean them?!

"You say here, you've been in two commercials," she asked and regained his attention.

"Well, I came out here to be an actor, but I couldn't make a living, so I decided to diversify." A trace of embarrassment swept passed his features.

"I guess, that means you're motivated," Fran reasoned. "What's this under experience?"

"I worked at my uncle's place upstate as a cook. He runs a little health food shop/restaurant. I haven't dropped a tray in ten years," he said proudly and then laying his eyes on the piano, asked, "Not to change the subject, but I noticed that piano in the corner, does anyone play it?"

"Well, Maggie, my daughter used to, and I have this feeling Max does, but only when no one's around," she explained thoughtfully. She had always wanted to hear Max play.

"Max... as in Maxwell Sheffield, is your husband?" Michael's eyes grew into plates, that he might drop, along with his jaw.

"Yes, you've heard of him?" Fran was pleased that her husband might have a few fans on this coast.

"He's only my favorite Broadway producer. He puts all his heart into his plays, just like I do when I act. I always wanted to audition for him, but I was never able to get to New York," he divulged.

"Oh, I think he would be happy to hear that," she said and hoped it would take some of the stress of this sit-com away.

"Is he here now?" Michael nearly lost what was left of his composure.

"Yeah, Max is working at the moment… but you can meet him this afternoon, if you can start working that soon." Fran decided not to disappoint him, besides he seemed honest enough.

"Oh, thank you! What time is good?" He leaped up and grabbed his bag, flinging it over his shoulder.

"Just get here in time to make dinner by 7:00 PM," Fran replied, quite pleased with herself.

"5:30, okay?" he asked as he headed for the door.

"See ya then."

Michael was in the kitchen surveying it and trying to decide what to make for dinner. He opened the refrigerator door and started to rummage around in the vegetable drawer. He thought a simple salad with some Asian influence might be a good start. He had a plastic bag with four tomatoes balanced on his shoulder, two tomatoes on his back and two on his front; a head of lettuce under his chin; a package of carrots in his jacket pocket; and tofu, grapes, and a bottle of olive oil in his hands as he shut the door with his foot and turned around. Unfortunately for Michael, Max had choosen that moment to walk into the kitchen and get another cup of coffee. Bang!

What had been the prefect beginning to dinner and an innocence attempt to keep one's eyes open, erupted into yells, vegetables, and an Armani tie covered in olive oil.

"Oh, oh, Mr. Sheffield, I… I didn't see you there…" Michael stammered. Max was annoyed to say the least, but seeing this terrified young man standing in front of him, made him sigh.

"You must be Michael…" Max said as he walked to the sink and removed his tie to wash it.

"Yes. Yes, sir, I am." Michael was in shock and wondered why Max hadn't fired him.

"My wife hired you?" Max asked while getting paper-towels off the roll and cleaning the tomato off his shirt.

"Yeah," Michael said. He then stooped to pick up the remains of his idea for dinner. Max could only think that this was indeed the type of person his wife would find.

"Were you attempting salad?" Max questioned him further, after glancing at the mess on the floor. This time the man just nodded.

"Try to get the ingredients in the bowl next time, okay?" Max joked.

"Sir?" Michael stood up as he saw Max set the trash can at his side.

"Hmm?" Max answered, while deciding to go upstairs and change.

"I always heard you were, well, tough, at least to audition for," Michael voiced quietly as he continued to clean.

"You haven't met my partner yet," Max commented and was just to the door when he turned back.

"Dinner will still be at seven?"

"Of course," Michael replied and breathed out with relief.

Max opened the oak door to Miss Brigitte Bloom's office. Fran stepped in wearing a flowing black skirt, and a man's (Max's) white shirt tied in a knot at the bottom and buttoned up to the first two buttons.

"There's our girl. Hi, Franella!" Brigitte exploded and hopped up to shake her hand. Fran immediately regretted ever letting anyone call her that. Max and C.C. just exchanged looks as Max closed the door. The office was nice enough, a wine and black color scheme ran through the whole room. The windows were covered with heavy satin drapes; the seats were comfortable armchairs, and the desk was a black iron looking thing with a computer and a few files sitting on it. Plants were barely living in pots in the corners and on a table next to the couch.

"Brigitte, I realize you wanted to talk to Nann… to Fran," C.C. forced the niceness out of herself as if she was spitting the words, "but I have some sketches worked up and…" She began to open her briefcase when Brigitte cut her off sharply.

"Why don't we just pretend you didn't just spend the whole night on scripts we won't use, okay?" The sweet tone and ever-present smile made C.C. almost unaware she had just been insulted.

"I think this meeting should be about the planning, and I am still in charge of details, right Maxwell?" C.C. reacted to her dismissal.

"Of course, C.C.," Max sat up in his chair, realizing he had just been asked a "Do I look fat in this?" question.

"Details can be worked out by faxes and conference calls, but what you could do, hon, is go supervise the set. They're moving stuff over there and I don't have anyone on the lot who knows what they're doing." Brigitte had learned fast and she only wanted one ruthless businesswoman in her den, herself.

"But I should be here," C.C. said as she quietly sunk her nails into Max's shoulder.

"We'll manage without you," Fran responded with a wave of her hand.

"See you back at the office, Maxwell," C.C. growled as she left. When the door almost slammed shut, Max knew he would have hell to pay later. Sometimes, it felt like he was married to two women, one at home and one at the office, neither of whom he was making love to at the present time.

"Now, I want to talk about that basic premise. Which I see as the 'Sound of Music' with some twists," Brigitte said a bit smugly.

"How would that work?" Fran asked.

"Well, I find you two are similar to many great duos… Ricky and Lucy, Lois and Clark… Kermit and Miss Piggy," she explained.

"Did you just compare us to talking socks?" Max half-asked and half-accused.

"Muppets," Fran stated.

"What?!" Max turned to her in confusion.

"Well, they weren't socks, they were muppets," Fran remarked, shrugging.

"You see my daughter loves them. Kermit was always the leader of the group like you are of the household. Plus, he was the most logical. And Miss Piggy was the most beautiful and with her karate-chap, the most street-wise. Besides, she was always chasing after Kermit to marry her in the movies," Brigitte replied gently.

"Darling, I've just been called an amphibian," Max told Fran as if she hadn't heard it. Now, he was mad and a bit tired of strong women.

"Well, Sweetie, you usually are on the cold side." Fran was not helping.

"Cold? I don't recall you thinking I was cold on New Years," he defended, completely forgetting where he was.

"I said usually. Now, don't get huffy," she countered.

"How am I supposed to react to a comment like that?" Max inquired, trying to calm down.

"Kids, kids, can you two argue later… maybe in the presence of a professional?" Brigitte suggested a bit less sweetly.

"Yes," they both muttered.

"So, if you're Kermit, what does that make me?" Niles asked.

"Fozzy," Fran said.

"As in Bear?" Niles asked stupefied.

"Well, sure, he was Kermit's loyal sidekick," Max explained. Niles knew he had been insulted, but he wasn't sure how and it irritated him that Max could easily use his mother's way of insulting a person without saying anything wrong.

"I thought you never watched those things," Fran accused him.

"Fran, I have five children; I could tell you Little Mermaid verbatim, including voices, if I HAD to," Max defended. "What?" he asked noticing the thoughtful look on her face.

"I think Niles could do a better Sebastian," Fran proclaimed. Max and Niles suddenly had headaches. C.C. opened the door to the office and walked in.

"And here comes the Sea Witch," Niles smiled.

"What's Mr. Dirt Devil talking about?" C.C. inquired as she set some files on the desk.

"Ah, Mrs. Dirt Devil. How are you feeling?" Niles replied, rubbing her tummy which was beginning to hint there was a baby inside.

"A little like that guy in Alien," she replied looking down at her stomach. "Now, what is all this about the sea?"

"I'll tell you later… when we're in bed," Niles promised, much to Max and Fran's annoyance.

"Last time we were there, just look what happened… I'm going to be fat again," C.C. complained.

"Wow, mood alert at five o'clock, and she can't even drink," Fran said while sliding behind Max's chair.

"Nothing will prepare you for fatherhood better than taking care of a pregnant wife for nine months," Max mused with a slight smile on his face.

"Other than helping you raise your children," Niles reacted. The smile was lost on Max's face and he began to look through the files.

"Fran, C.C. and I have another long night ahead of us. What with casting tomorrow and all, could you and Niles see if Michael needs any help finding things?" he accepted defeat from the master.

"Who's Michael?" C.C. asked as she sat down on the couch.

"I am, madam." Michael appeared in the door with a tea tray. "Just brought in some tea and snacks, sir." Niles assessed the young man as having timing, which was a good butler quality.

"Thank you, Michael. Oh, by the way, is this your resume?" Max inquired and looked up suspiciously.

"Well, honey, I said you might give him a bit part, after all, he's a big fan of yours," Fran tried to smooth things over. By now, Max had set it aside. He had no intention of getting into this now.

"Yes, perhaps." Max began to check his speed dial for Maggie's number. Michael, Fran and Niles slowly left. C.C. stood, walked to the desk, and tried one of the white chocolate treats in a little bonbon basket.

"Maxwell, where did you find him? These chocolate turtles are very unusual," C.C. mused.

"Actually, Fran discovered him through a want ad… yes, they are quite interesting," Max added, trying one himself. It was crunchy and unique. C.C. ate another.

"I'll have to have Niles get the recipe."

As Gracie entered the house with her friend, Jenny, after school, she suddenly realized auditions were running late. It was a mess: long-legged woman with hair that bounced like in the commercials stood in the foyer; child actors and actresses were milling around the library; and well-muscled men were practicing lines in the living room.

"Hi, Sweety," Fran called from near the piano, "Hi Jenny, nice to see you again."

"Hi Mrs. Sheffield," Jenny looked around the house in amazement. "I just came home with Grace to see if she could help me with my psychology theory…. Who is that?" She eyed the English gentleman talking to Max.

"Oh that's my buddy, Charles," Fran spoke as if they were old friends.

"Wasn't he on 'Days of Our Lives?' My mom loved him." Jenny beamed.

"Ya wanna meet him?" Fran asked, setting down her notepad.

"Sure!" Jenny replied. Fran led Gracie and Jenny through the crowd of men.

"Remember, no asking for numbers," Fran whispered.

"Fran, I think I'm a little young," Gracie whispered back.

"I was talking to myself, honey," Fran corrected her and then greeted two English gents. "Hi, guys, I hate to barge in, but Gracie's friend Jenny would like an autograph." Charles smiled at the girls as their own father would.

"No problem." He signed a picture of himself that Jenny had in her one of her folders. The two girls excused themselves up the stairs, Jenny giggling all the way.

"Ya know, you two really are dead-ringers for each other." Fran commented, looking from one of them to the other. Max glanced momentarily at Charles.

"You think so?" he asked his wife.

"Maybe the hair, except I don't have a gray streak," Charles replied thoughtfully.

"With Fran hanging around the set… give it time," Max warned Charles. Fran swatted at Max playfully and all Charles could think was how much they complimented each other.

The day dragged on and it was finally down to casting the butler, the business partner, the best friend and the mother, according to C.C.'s personnel list. Sarah, which was the name Gracie had picked in honor of her mother, was being played by Kate Kent. C.C. hated fussy kids and had decided her's was not going to be like that. Then it had been a matter of casting Ben and it was Max's lucky day, when Thomas October showed up. What a pretentious brat… unfortunately, Jenny's tongue had hit the floor again and corporate said he was teen-heartthrob material. Jamie, Maggie's alter ego, belonged instantly to a young actress named Kelly Parker. Max said she reminded him of the innocent little girl he missed. And from a distance she looked it; however, C.C.'s conversation with her had revealed a very driven Hollywood mover and shaker.

C.C. would let all that slide though, because they had managed to talk Charles Shaughnessy, despite Nanny Fine's presence, into playing Charles Fields. The shocker had been not five minutes ago, when Max was beginning to think no one could play Fran's role.

"Boy, I'm tired of standing around," a very familiar voice announced from behind Maxwell.

"Why don't you go lie down, you've had a rough day…" Max suggested to his wife.

"What did you say?" she asked looking at the man, who had just turned to her.

"Oh, my God." Max stared at her a moment mystified, "Are you here auditioning?"

"Ya, but wha did you just…" she responded. Max had a funny expression on his face.

"Follow me…" was all he said and led her across the room. The woman sighed and allowed this guy to pull her along.

"Fran, say something," Max called to his wife. She glanced up and caught the strange tone in his voice.

"Wha do you want me to say?" Fran asked.

"Good enough," he proclaimed and turned to the actress next to him, "Say the same thing."

"Wha do you want me to say?" she obeyed, not at all sure what was going on, or who this guy was.

"C.C. get over here…" Max yelled to his partner.

"Maxwell, this better be important," C.C. growled as she joined the group.

"Listen," he commanded. Well, that was three women he had completely confused.

"To what?" C.C. inquired with annoyance.

"Are you Maxwell Sheffield?" the actress attempted to put two and two together. The look on C.C.'s face was a cross of horror and astonishment.

"Whoa, you mean to tell me there are two people on this planet with that accent and that hair?"

"I beg your pardon?" the woman questioned and fluffed her hair with a hand. Fran was also fixing her puff.

"I'm sorry, you are?" Max apologized. C.C. was still trying to relocate her jaw.

"Connie Velour," the girl introduced herself.

"Pleased to meet you, this is my wife, Fran, whom we are basing the character Karen Kline on," Max explained.

"Hello," Fran and Connie said at the same time. In the kitchen, Michael's intercom temporarily shorted-out.

Finding no one wanted any more of his chocolate bonbons or his asparagus sticks covered in a light olive oil, Michael decided he should get into the act, if he wanted a part.

"Hey, Mr. Sheffield, do you need something, a butler or a piano player?" Michael asked as he slid into the piano seat.

"Not…" Max began, but the man was already playing a bit.

"I can play that new theme song that was sent over?" he told Max and Niles, having noticed the sheet music on the top of the piano.

"Dana Dana Da…" he started. Max and Niles looked at each other and began to walk away.

"That guy is being so pathetic," Niles commented.

"As opposed to what you have tried in the past?" Max smirked. Niles looked at him as if to say 'where did that sarcasm come from'? Suddenly from across the room, Niles spotted Fran trying to hide her mother, who had supposedly come to help with the twins, from the actors.

"Oh, my God! It's Daniel Davis!" Sylvia screamed as she caught sight of the attractive man who was glancing out at the pool.

"Wha?" Fran asked, having been distracted by Michael's music… such a catchy beat.

"As in 'The Hunt for Red October'; you loved Sean Connery in that…" Sylvia explained and began to head toward the unsuspecting Davis.

"Yes, but… MA, MA!" Fran grabbed Sylvia by the back of her belt, but found herself being dragged along.

"Franny, sweetheart, I don't think it looks very professional, clinging to your mother like this," Sylvia commented after she had taken a few steps.

"Ma, I'm begging you to keep your distance. Max is hoping to hire these people, not scare them with his in-laws." Luckily for Daniel, Niles realized Sylvia's intended target and asked if he would like to see the library. Mr. Davis agreed, saying he wanted to know more about this butler character.

Max, meanwhile, was interviewing a woman who had this striking resemblance to C.C.

"I know it doesn't sound like much, but this part is going to require a great deal, especially with my partner being whom this is based on," Max told her as the woman examined the script.

"I'm willing to do anything this part requires and I absolutely mean anything…" She winked at him. Max shook his head.

"I'm a happily married man." He gestured toward Fran, who was still trying to explain to her mother, that she could have the leftover appetizers, when they were considered leftovers.

"I know," she replied. "So your partner, is she married too?" The woman looked C.C. over and Max about tripped over his tongue. Just then, C.C. came over to join them.

"So C.C. do you like my look?" the actress asked arching her figure ever so.

"Love it, baby doll," C.C. responded automatically.

"Ah, C.C…" Max tried to warn her but he was cut-off.

"Not now Maxwell, I have always been better at talking with these people than you." In a moment of true annoyance over his partner's continuing belief that he was "just a pretty face in a blazer," Max changed tactics.

"You know it's half past six, why don't you two go have dinner, my treat," Max offered gently. The actress smiled slyly.

"That would be fabulous," she replied and almost hugged C.C. who was headed for her coat already. "We can get in a little girl time." C.C. was now sure Max realized his mistake in thinking he could handle these negotiations without her.

Max smiled to himself as they walked away. Not only had he gotten rid of an actress but also gotten even with C. C. for treating him like he didn't have a brain. Suddenly he sighed though; this was something Niles would have done. Boy, he missed his butler, but the man had his own life now and this new butler wasn't that bad.

About a week later, the casting was done. The actress had, according to herself, just been kidding with Max and C.C.; trying to show-off her comedic talents, so the part of G.G. Lane went to Miss Dana Nozak. As it turned out, she was very big in the theater. Niles had managed to talk Daniel Davis into playing Giles. In addition, the mother, Sylvia Kline went to a mothering actress named Charlotte Sherwood and Karen's best friend Sal was being portrayed by an actress from one of Max's first plays, Helen Baron. They were, now, working in the studio for the taping of the pilot and on camera it seemed to be coming together. In celebration of the hard work, which would hopefully pay-off tomorrow, Max had invited everyone back for a dinner. Niles strolled into the kitchen and found Michael hard at work on the meal. Fran and Max weren't too keen on tofu and herbal food, but almost all the crew and many of the cast were very health conscious, so they had told him to do what he wanted… tonight.

"Umm… say what is this? I am a master of gourmet cooking but I have never tasted a dessert like this, that crunched," Niles inquired as he sampled the tray sitting on the island.

"Oh, that's the chocolate covered grasshoppers… or crickets…" The guy looked at the tray a moment, "I was right the first time, grasshoppers." Niles froze with the second half still in his mouth.

"What?" Niles was going to be sick.

"They're a delicacy, sir, besides Mrs. Sheffield said to cook my best dishes," he explained calmly.

"Are you trying to get fired or killed? Mr. Sheffield is English; he doesn't eat insects!" Niles yelled and grabbed for a napkin.

"He and Ms. Babcock didn't seem to mind the caramel crickets with their tea last week," Michael replied in defense.

"You served them what?" Niles blurted out.

"Is there a problem?" Michael asked as he took out the bamboo shoots.

"I'm very sorry, but you're fired," Niles stated sharply.

"You don't have that authority!" Michael shouted at him and set the shoots down on the chopping board.

"Do you want to be here when I tell Babcock you let her eat something she fumigates once a month for?" Niles half-asked and half-threatened, despite the amusement that the thought of her reaction brought to him.

"Later." With that the guy was off to his room, hoping that Mrs. Sheffield would take pity on him. Niles sighed; it looked like he was back in the Sheffield's kitchen for another night.

The rooms were decorated, the cast was ready, the studio stands were packed (even though it was for the most part executives) and a family was sitting on the set nervously. It felt to Fran that something amazing was about to begin… something special.

"Okay, people, this is our first taping in front of a studio audience, so let's get going. Que the theme song," Max directed and then took his seat next to Fran as C.C. got ready to introduce the cast.

Thanks to my fellow writers, Barb for this opportunity, and you my audience for taking the time!

So wha'd ya think? Any good? Be sure
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7.4 House of Cards by Kate A stressed out King and an exhausted Queen don't make for a happy kingdom. Can Max and Fran get themselves and their family back on track before its too late? And what about Naomi?

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