14.
"Fran here?" questioned Sylvia, barging through the back kitchen door of the Sheffield residence.
She was sporting some bright pink spandex leggings underneath a large, shiny silvery shirt.
"Sorry Sylvia, I'm afraid you just missed her," answered Maxwell, who was sipping some milk from a glass.
"Oh, really…" said Sylvia, going over to the small table in the room and sitting down, her head drooping sadly.
"Anything the matter Sylvia? Perhaps I could do something for you?" asked Maxwell, giving his condolence as he took a seat by Miss Fine's mother.
"Well Mr. Sheffield, it's just, well—you'd think a daughter would like to pay her poor, old mother a visit every once in a while. I haven't heard from Fran in ages," she admitted, starting to weep on Maxwell's shoulder with her tears wetting the fabric.
Max sat his cup down and pulled his head back a bit with an uncomfortable kind of look covering his face.
"I'm so sorry to hear that. I could have sworn she paid you some visits, but she hasn't at all?"
"Nope, not once in two weeks! It's all because of that Mr. Ferraren she met—she just spends all her time with him," responded Sylvia, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
"Yes, I've noticed," said Maxwell, grimacing. "It's most unfortunate."
"Ha! I'm sure it is most unfortunate for you… For all I know, you're probably plotting some way to get me on your side to help you get Fran away from her boyfriend right this minute."
"Oh Sylvia, how dare you accuse me to be capable of such nonsense," exclaimed Maxwell, somewhat offended.
He got up from the table after Sylvia did.
"Kicking yourself right now, huh?"
"You have no idea…" admitted Max.
Sylvia walked over to the refrigerator and began to browse its contents.
"Sylvia, you've just got to do something! You must help me!" pleaded Maxwell, clasping his hands together and giving her a sad, puppy-dog face. "I'm desperate."
"Nope, sorry, I'm afraid that's your problem. It's just not in my department. Plus there's nothing it for me and I'm happy that Fran has finally found someone long-term. Quite frankly, you're just not reliablehusband material for my taste—always leading her on..."
"But—"
Sylvia interrupted. "Always taking things back…
"You don't—"
She interrupted him once again. "Always messing up her relationships with other men…"
"I—"
And, yes ladies and gentleman, a third time as well. "You obviously don't know when to stop…"
Maxwell didn't even attempt to get a word out of his mouth. She was trying to prove her point, and she was doing a hell of a good job at it too. He also realized that there really wasn't anything he could actually say to successfully back himself up and he'd just come out looking like an idiot.
"Oh, and I'd better tell ya now before I go and forget. I know you're gonna see Fran later, so of course I know you'll make sure to remind her to—"
"I'll make sure to remind her to spend some quality time with you, even if it means pulling her away from Julian for a bit."
"And?"
"And I won't do anything to make Fran unhappy in any way," added Maxwell, with much difficulty.
"Thank you… meanwhile Mr. Sheffield, this Chocolate Truffle cake is divine! You must get Niles to give me the recipe," said Sylvia, nibbling on some desert she found in the fridge with the frosting all over her mouth and fingers as she pulled herself out into view.
Maxwell chuckled, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.
"Hey, mind if I stay for dinner?" asked Sylvia, as she wiped off her face with a paper towel she found over by the corner counter in a plastic holder.
"Um… well, you see—" began Maxwell, stumbling over the words and scratching his head.
He desperately tried to concoct up some brilliant excuse, but none came.
"Great! So what are we having?"