A stream of light shone through a small slit between the curtains and into CC's eyes, waking her up. Groaning, she grabbed her pillow and placed it over her face. The bed was so comfortable, she wanted to sleep just a little bit longer. Even though it wasn't her bed, it was warm and cozy and familiar.
As she lay there trying to go back to sleep, she thought about the Hallowe'en party. Usually, those kind of things bored her, and she used them mostly to network, getting through them by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Last night, she'd enjoyed herself instead. She had danced just to dance and ate way more than she drank. It was odd to be waking up after a party without a fuzzy mouth and a headache.
Slowly, CC became aware that someone was watching her. She could feel his eyes. Her breath caught, and she waited for him to speak. Part of her was hoping that it was Maxwell, but most of her knew that he would never let himself into her room without knocking. It had to be Niles.
Annoyed, she asked, "What do you want, Florence?"
When he didn't answer, CC lifted the pillow high enough to peer out. Niles wasn't there. In fact, no one was there.
"Niles?" she said, sitting up quickly, knocking her pillow to the floor.
Looking around, she saw her room really was empty. Abruptly, the sensation she was being watched stopped. Feeling shaky, but not quite sure why, CC got out of bed and padded to the door. She opened it to look out into the hallway, but there was no one there.
"Niles?" she called softly.
Only silence answered. She turned to go back into her room but found she didn't want to. Something almost like fear settled into her belly, and she decided it was time to go down and find something for breakfast instead.
XXX
Niles yawned widely as he set up the coffee maker for his first cup of the day. He was so tired and draggy that he hadn't even bothered to dress. Since it was his day off, he didn't think Mr. Sheffield would mind him shuffling around in fuzzy slippers, striped pajamas, and a worn robe that had been a gift from Catherine more years ago than he wanted to count.
He'd had almost no sleep. It was after three by the time he got everyone in the house settled and could go to bed himself. Once in bed, his restless sleep was plagued by dreams—some of them glorious and some of them horrific-so real he was disoriented when he woke. He'd been right about Miss Babcock's costume haunting his dreams, and he dreamed over and over again of touching her, kissing her, loving her, but he'd been wrong about those dreams keeping the nightmares at bay. They'd been heartwrenching in their brutal but stark violence, and the terror, guilt, and anguish of them were enough for him to wake with tears in his eyes.
All over Babcock.
That's what he didn't get. Despite the way he treated her, he'd always known that he had more affection for her than hate, but he still couldn't understand why it was her his subconscious chose to torture and murder over and over again.
He really needed that cup of coffee.
The stairs creaked, so Niles glanced up to see Miss Babcock descending. She hadn't bothered to dress either, and the small nightshirt that reached mid thigh on Miss Fine was quite a bit shorter on her taller, fuller frame. It seemed he was going to be treated with a tantalizing view of her long, shapely legs once again.
"Coffee?" she croaked.
"Brewing, Miss Babcock. Would you like some breakfast?"
She looked at him suspiciously. "You're offering to make me breakfast?"
"You are Miss Babcock, are you not?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "Don't read too much into it. I was about to make some for myself."
"The others?"
"I haven't seen them yet...Well, except Master Brighton. He was up and away about a half an hour ago, probably avoiding his father. Mr. Sheffield tends to sleep in when he drinks too much, if there's no work to be done. As for Miss Fine, I expect her down as soon as the smell of breakfast rises to her room. I'll make enough for three."
She frowned, rubbing a hand over one eye like a young girl. "I thought you were off today."
"I am, but I'm also the only one in this household who can cook."
"Good point."
He went over to the cupboard and took out two large mugs. Setting them on the table, he said, "Why don't you pour us some coffee while I start the bacon and eggs."
"Okay," she agreed.
He heard her stomach rumble as he passed her and couldn't help the little smile that came to his face.
"I like..."
"Milk, not cream, no sugar. Yes, I know," she grumbled, reaching for the pot.
He stopped and turned back to stare at her. "That's right."
"Don't look so shocked, Beulah. I've known you for fifteen years."
He watched her as she poured the coffee, wondering who this sleepy, beautiful, almost pleasant woman was. She certainly couldn't be his Miss Babcock.
"Niles," she asked suddenly, "were you in my room this morning?"
He was surprised out of eyeing the hem of her nightshirt. "Your room?"
"Yes. I had the strange feeling that someone was in there while I slept."
"I wouldn't be caught dead in your bedroom, like any other man."
"Do you think the boy would..."
Niles shook his head. "He's not nearly brave enough. You must have dreamed it."
"I guess. It just felt so real."
"How much did you have to drink last night?"
She glared at him so he resumed his trip to the fridge. There, he grabbed bacon, eggs, frozen hashbrowns, milk, and cream. His hands were so full, he had to close the door with his butt.
Miss Babcock came and took the milk and cream from him. She was a little rough, and he barely kept his grip on the eggs.
"Careful!"
She didn't say anything but answered him with a smirk. Niles didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.
As Niles cracked open an egg, he contemplated how unusual it was to share his morning ritual with someone. When Grace was very small, before she started school and after Sara's death, she used to help him cook in the mornings. Since then, the children were either sleeping or preparing for school. Maxwell had always considered himself beneath cooking, and Fran usually slept in until the last possible second. Niles found he liked having someone to share breakfast preparations with—even if it was Babcock.
"Your coffee's on the counter, Niles," she said, suddenly behind him.
He almost dropped the egg in his hand into the pan, shell and all.
"Nervous?"
"You would be too if a Sasquatch snuck up behind you."
"Please, Niles. It's too early and we stayed up way too late to spar now. Can't we call a truce until after breakfast?"
"Go wait in the dining room. I'll bring it in when I'm done."
"I'd rather sit here and wait...if that's okay." She sounded uncertain.
"If you must," he said easily.
She walked over to the little table and sat with her back to him. The two of remained silent with Niles occasionally sneaking glances at Miss Babcock and wondering what she was thinking.
The solitude was broken by a thumping noise on the stairs and a nasally but cheery voice saying, "Morning all!"
"Good morning, Miss Fine. Did you sleep well?"
"Like a baby." She grinned. "That was some party, huh?"
XXX
Niles was sitting in front of the TV later watching his soaps and enjoying some cake and lemonade when the doorbell rang. Brighton had been allowed to go back to Tommy's for the rest of the weekend despite his silly prank, Miss Fine had gone to her mother's, Mr. Sheffield had gone tie shopping—a laborous, all day affair for him—and Miss Babcock had left soon after breakfast, so Niles was alone in the house.
Grumbling a little, he put down his cake and muted the television. The doorbell rang again, so he got to his feet with a sigh. Even on days off, there was no rest for the wicked.
He was tempted to drag his feet so the person would go away. After all, visitors were rarely for him, so he'd probably just have to turn the guest away anyway.
The doorbell rang a third time as he reached it, so he yanked it open, plastering on a pleasant face.
He was surprised to see Ian Woon on the other side. The young man was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and had his hands in his pockets. When Niles opened the door, he pushed past him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Woon," Niles said evenly, not really liking the furtive way Woon's eyes searched the foyer.
Woon looked at him for a long moment, not blinking and seeming not even to breathe. "Hello, Niles."
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm here for Miss Babcock." His voice deepened and he cleared his throat.
"Miss Babcock?"
"Yes. We were supposed to discuss some things. About my play."
"I'm sorry. Mr. Sheffield gave his staff the day off today. She's not here."
Woon's eyes snapped to Niles's face and seemed to burn into it. Uncomfortable, Niles took a step back.
"Where is she?"
"I have no idea," Niles said honestly.
"Are you certain?"
"Quite certain. You may want to try her cell phone."
Woon thought about this before nodding.
"Would you like me to tell Mr. Sheffield you'd be interested in scheduling a meeting for Monday?"
"Monday? Yes, Monday will be fine...Quite fine."
As Woon turned to go, a piercing blade of pain sliced through Niles's head. He stumbled slightly, feeling disoriented. Far away, inside his mind, he could hear the echoes of screams and terrified pleadings. With a shaking hand, he reached towards the little table, using it to steady himself.
"Niles, help me!" The words were faint, but he could make out their meaning.
No, he thought. No, no, no, no. I will not let you in. Not while I'm awake.
He closed his eyes, gasping for air, fighting to breathe. It was only seconds until the nightmare receded and he felt like himself again.
He opened his eyes, intent on apologizing to Mr. Woon for what could have looked like a psychotic episode. He didn't have to apologize because Ian Woon was gone.
XXX
The weekend went by quickly, mostly because Niles had to work like a madman to catch up on his neglected housework. At least it was quiet. With the children gone and Miss Fine running in and out, it was mostly just Niles and Mr. Sheffield at home.
Niles was still exhausted because the nightmares continued to plague him. And they were getting worse. He was starting to find trails of blood in them now. It was sticky and warm and so fresh that it hadn't even started to congeal yet.
Monday morning came way too early. He was dragging all through preparing breakfast and had to fight to hide his yawns while the others were eating.
"Niles, are you okay, sweetie?" Miss Fine asked when she brought her plate up for seconds.
"I just haven't been sleeping well," he admitted. "It's been weeks since I've had a good night's sleep. I've tried everything I can think of, and nothing helps, not even sleeping pills."
She studied his face in concern. "Maybe you should go see a doctor."
"I'm considering it."
He filled her plate and she squeezed his arm briefly before returning to her seat.
The door opened and Miss Babcock breezed in. "Hello, hello."
"Good morning, CC," Mr. Sheffield smiled. "Would you like to join us?"
Niles groaned. "Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse."
Miss Babcock glared at him but sat down beside Miss Margaret in her usual chair.
Niles contemplated making her a plate consisting solely of things she hated but changed his mind. Instead, he filled it with her favorites. Doing the occasional nice thing for her kept her on her toes. He lived to keep her on her toes.
As anticipated, she looked up at him in surprise when he placed her plate in front of her.
"Niles, did you spit in this?"
"Of course not."
"I wouldn't put it past you."
"Rest assured, Miss Babcock, this meal is one hundred percent safe to eat."
She studied him suspiciously. "I've heard that before."
This forced a laugh out of him. "This time it's true."
"Okay then."
Niles caught Miss Fine's eye just as she was smiling in amusement. He winked at her and moved back around the table to stand at the serving tray.
"Oh, CC," Mr. Sheffield said obliviously, "We have a meeting with Mr. Woon this afternoon at two."
"Another meeting with Ian?" She glanced at him.
"Yes. He told me he had some things he wanted to discuss with us about the script."
"Couldn't you just tell him no, Maxwell? I hate when writers get overly involved in our productions."
"He hasn't signed the contract yet, CC."
Her face fell. "Oh, yeah. Right."
"What's wrong with this Ian guy, anyway?" Miss Fine asked, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth and starting to chew.
"Nothing," Mr. Sheffield said.
"He's just so young and earnest," Miss Babcock added. "What he needs is a distraction...Hey, Maxwell, do you think Mary-Ann will go on a date with him?"
"Mary-Ann?"
"If by Mary-Ann you mean me, I'm not interested," Miss Margaret protested, pointing her fork at her father.
"Why not?" Miss Babcock asked. "He's a perfectly nice boy."
"He's also too old for her," Mr. Sheffield said firmly.
"Okay. Okay. It was just a thought."
