"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.

Max,

I want your honest opinion.
Please keep an open mind
I love you.

Fran


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.

..."I use to believe in fairy tales; Brave knights on white horses coming to rescue the love of their life and the two of them living happily ever after. But somewhere along the way, reality set in. There are no such things as fairy tales, brave knights, and happily ever after. The truth is love is an illusion, a false reality built in the willing mind."

"You're wrong," Alain said taking her hand in his. "Love, true love, can heal pain and when nurtured, can flourish for a lifetime. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. I want - I need us to start again."

Raven stared at him, trying to see him through a haze of blurry tears. "Maybe if we meet again, the time will be right but it's too late for us now."

Alain was desperate. He couldn't let her leave him. Not now. Not after everything they'd been through. Tears ran softly down his cheeks as he pressed her hand to his chest, over his heart.

"Please, won't you reconsider? I couldn't bear to lose you."

Raven willed herself to talk but no words would leave her throat. Her breath shuddered as she shook her head.

"No."

His body stiffened, awash in hurt and anger. "So you're just going to leave me?"

She felt his persona turn cold. His defenses had risen as a means of protecting his heart. "You think I'm abandoning you but I'm not. You abandoned me first."...

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.