A/N: Thanks for your lovely reviews, everybody. I'm glad to see that a bunch of you are interested in this story. Well, here's your update. Let me know what you think :)

Chapter 1:

The day started ordinarily enough for C.C. Babcock. Like most of New York she was up in the early hours of the morning, trying to make her way to the heart of the city where one of the theatres she had rented was located. But progress was slow because an unusually cold winter still held most of the East Coast in its firm grasp, dusting rooftops with snow and transforming roads into treacherous sledding chutes.

Her nails tapped impatiently against the side of the car until she realised that she was mimicking the rhythm of the song the taxi driver had chosen to play five times in a row now. Groaning to herself she thought that this would, no doubt, make a great addition to the medley of musical numbers that would be stuck in her head by the end of the day.

"Listen, Bucko," she said, leaning forward to rap her knuckles against the privacy glass of the car when he didn't show any signs of hearing her "I have to be somewhere."

"Don't we all, lady?" he shot back, annoyed at having to turn down the volume of what was clearly the most repetitive song in the history of music.

C.C. took a deep breath and flexed the hand that was resting on her lap once more.

"Yes well, it is your job to get me to said destination, preferably in time for my meeting." She informed him in the calmest but most patronising tone she could muster.

"Yeah but the roads are icy and there'll be no meeting if I deliver you in a body bag." He rolled his eyes at her and reached for the volume dial.

"I'll take the risk," she threw out quickly, fishing for her purse in her briefcase "I'll pay you extra. Just get a move on."

"As you wish, lady." He commented with a satisfied grin and instantly accelerated and changed lanes.

C.C. closed her eyes and prayed for patience, knowing that an argument with the insufferable man wouldn't help to improve her day.

Luckily, the financial encouragement seemed to have served its purpose as they finally arrived at the theatre several minutes later. C.C. absent-mindedly handed over the necessary cash and slipped out of the vehicle, her attention already focused on the poster that adorned the front of the building. Her forehead creased into a frown of displeasure and she quickened her strides until she reached the backstage area of the theatre. There, she paused momentarily to give her eyes the chance to adjust to the sudden darkness she had been plunged into.

"Melanie!" she called, hoping that the director hadn't left yet.

But when she received no answer she ventured out onto the stage where a cacophony of sounds was emanating from. Instead of finding her colleagues there, however, she was suddenly surrounded by a whole bunch of students who were noisily chatting and climbing ladders to adjust spotlights.

"What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed loudly so that half the people around her of them was dangling so precariously from the ladder that the impending risk of a health and safety lawsuit made her feel sick to her stomach. "And get down," she added in a snappy voice.

"We're here to set up for our show," a teenage girl offered timidly.

"What show?" C.C. frowned and if it hadn't been for the poster at the entrance she would've questioned if she was at the right theatre.

"Browning Swings", another boy said "we talked to Mr Rogers and he said we could have the auditorium."

"Ah yes...yes…" C.C. sighed, suddenly remembering the deal that had infuriated her already months ago. Offering the theatre to a bunch of high school students just weeks before their show was about to open and forcing them to find alternative rehearsal spaces was lunacy. "Well, go on ahead…kill yourselves…" she muttered dismissively and went back the way she had come from.

She had just disappeared in the wings when the timid girl caught up with her. "Miss Babcock?"

C.C. turned and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Uh…Mrs Caulfield has left this note for you. Here you go."

Her smile was a mixture of shyness and adoration that C.C. would've come to associate with a fan if she had thought something like that to be possible. But as it was, she was severely disgruntled at having missed an important meeting, snatched the paper out of the girl's hands and headed outside into the cold to read the new information.

"Idiots…" she muttered frustrated and then tried several times to hail a new cab that would take her back uptown to the headquarters of Babcock Productions.

When she had returned to the city after her divorce from Niles had been finalised, one of her first decisions had been to rent a space as far away from her new penthouse as possible. As bitter as she'd been about the number of things that had gone wrong in California, she was also determined to get them right this time around. And one of the things that she considered part of their downfall was the close proximity of their house to the Sheffields. It had been all too easy for the former Nanny to request Niles' help with the twins, even when he was already off the clock and had his own family to look after. Likewise, it had been just as easy for her to hold late night meetings with Maxwell, knowing that she would be home in less than five minutes.

The building that she had discovered back then still served its purpose now and very much seemed to mirror her personality. It was minimalistic in style and very clear cut, with plenty of white walls and windows that offered views over the north end of Central Park. And as her business had picked up and become more successful, the number of rooms that they needed to rent had grown as well.

She paid the second taxi driver that day and then crossed the sidewalk to enter the building through its large glass doors. Another corridor and set of doors later, she finally reached the reception area of Babcock Productions.

"Is Allyson in her office?" she asked the woman who was behind the counter, not bothering to slow down her stride.

"Yes, Miss Babcock."

C.C. nodded to herself and then continued onward until the very end of the complex that her assistant had claimed as her own. She knocked briefly but entered without waiting for an answer.

"I'm surprised you're here already…traffic is supposed to be horrible," the brunette young woman tossed out, keeping her eyes fixed on her computer screen.

"Yeah well it is," C.C. sighed and slipped out of her long coat which she then flung haphazardly over the nearest chair "which is why I was late for my meeting at the theatre."

"And they'd all left already?" Allyson prompted and finally turned her attention to the tall woman at the other side of her desk.

"How'd you guess?" she asked dryly, not expecting an answer but her assistant was all too eager to give her one nonetheless.

"Well, one of your favourite hobbies is dragging out meetings to make sure that even the last person in the room is agreeing with you."

"It's called being assertive," C.C. tossed out but Allyson continued.

"And you're in a particularly shitty mood today, dripping water all over my floor which means that your shoes and pants didn't have the time to dry off yet."

"Alright, alright Allyson, stop acting like such a smartass!" C.C. interrupted once more, but firmer this time "I get it, you know me well."

Instead of being offended by her tone, Allyson only grinned. "So anything I can help you with?"

"Other than your gentle, caring words you mean?" C.C. challenged with the raise of an eyebrow that made her assistant snort.

"Yeah, like something practical."

C.C. ran a hand through her hair and tried to remember why she had sought her out, other than to get some complaints off her chest. "Actually, yes, there is. They still have the wrong poster up at the front of the theatre. It needs to be changed asap and I am sick and tired of sending them memos. So you could make my life a lot easier by chasing them down and making sure that poster gets changed today."

"I will," Allyson smiled "anything else?"

"No, that's it. In the meantime I'll go and get that meeting re-scheduled which is going to be an absolute nightmare because the theatre owner was stupid enough to rent out the space to a bunch of school kids."

"It's nice to see you're so invested in the performers of the future," Allyson commented dryly, lifting up the receiver of the phone but C.C. only chuckled, waved her off and then left the office.

It had been dark for a while by the time she made it home but the smell of food that wafted towards her as she entered through the front door helped ease some of the tension from her body.

"Did you cook?" she called out surprised while hanging up her coat and kicking off her shoes.

"Yes, my afternoon class got cancelled so I had enough time on my hands."

"That's certainly good news after the day I've had," she murmured and walked into the living room to give her boyfriend a kiss.

Although the word "boyfriend" seemed the wrong term to describe him. While the word was apt enough at capturing the essence of their relationship, a different kind of man came to her mind when she thought about a boyfriend. Certainly not the grey-haired college professor with the thick-rimmed glasses who was residing on her couch right now.

"Did you leave some for me?" she asked and continued on to the kitchen, ignoring the stack of mail on the coffee table.

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't I?" he asked, barely lifting his nose out of his book.

"Oh right…I forget, you never had to share your house with an insatiable Jewish woman, having to fight for every last crumb of food."

"That's quite a racist comment, isn't it, darling?" he called out, although his blasé tone indicated that he didn't seem to have taken serious offence.

"Probably," C.C. shrugged and turned the heat on under the saucepan "but it's also accurate."

His silence told her that he had become engrossed in his book once more and so she busied herself getting plate and cutlery ready and picking out a wine to go along with the meal. But when the cork proved too stubborn to deal with she went back into the living room – ignoring the distinctly British voice that was expressing its surprise, considering her experience with wine and spirits – and held the bottle out to Richard.

"I'm going to need a hand…"

He looked up at her, smiled briefly, put the book aside and took over bottle and corkscrew. "How was your day?"

"Nothing short of hellish…as always," C.C. muttered and turned around to clear the table "how about yours?"

"Pretty average too…the cancellation aside…It just shocks me every day how little interest these kids have in the Etruscan Wars. I personally find it fascinating."

She nodded absent-mindedly and rifled through the mail until she came across a small, square envelope that was addressed to her but in a hand-writing that she didn't recognise.

"What's this?" she turned to face him again, holding the item up in the air.

Richard momentarily stopped talking and his mouth continued to hang open for a few seconds longer as if his mind had difficulty returning to the present year. "I don't know…it was addressed to you so I didn't open it."

C.C. nodded to herself and sighing impatiently ripped open the envelope. "It's an invitation…" her eyes flew over the card "a wedding invitation…to my daughter's…" She trailed off.

"Isn't that good news?" Richard smiled.

"Do I look as if I consider it to be good news?" C.C. snapped, clenching her free hand at her side.

"No…no you do not…" he agreed, eyeing her pensively "I had no idea she was engaged."

"Neither did I…oh this better be her father's weird sense of humour rearing its ugly head." C.C. muttered and started trudging towards the bedroom, picking up the phone along the way and paying no attention to the soup that had begun boiling over on the stove where she had left it.