Chapter 3

Luckily for Maxwell, it was a relatively short flight. He spent the rest of it talking to the children, and deliberately ignoring his nanny's conversation with Brian. It was the only way to get his mind off his unwanted jealousy. He wasn't about to let a little flirting ruin his entire vacation.

They arrived safely at Tom Nevers Airfield. Brian escorted them into the airport. As they entered, an older woman at the ticket counter announced, "Now arriving at gate 1, Sandpiper Air flight 19 from New York."

The kids paused to look around. "So this is Nantucket, huh?" Brighton said, clearly unimpressed. "Is there anything to do on this island?" he asked their pilot.

Brian thought for a moment. "Well, there's a historical whaling museum," he suggested. Brighton gave him a 'You've got to be kidding' look. "OK, so you're not the museum type. There's always the beach," Brian said helpfully.

At this, Maggie's face lit up. "Ooh, a beach!" she said excitedly. "Are there any cute lifeguards?" Noticing her father's glare, she covered, "Because, you know, it's really important to be safe around the water."

Brian turned to Fran. "Listen, if you're looking for something to do while you're on the island, maybe we could go out for dinner sometime. I mean, I know you're on vacation, but you've still got to eat, right?"

Fran smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great," Brian said. "Meet me at the Club Car tonight around 8."

Maxwell couldn't believe his ears. Had the pilot just asked her out? And she'd said yes? 'Get hold of yourself,' he thought. 'She's just a friend.'

Just then, the woman who had been standing behind the ticket counter made a beeline toward Maxwell, grinning like an idiot. "I don't believe it! Maxwell Sheffield, standing in this very airport!" she gushed.

Max nodded. "Yes, but, you see, I'm on vacation--" he tried to explain. Normally, he didn't mind getting recognized, since it proved that people actually did go see his plays, but right now, he wasn't in the mood.

The woman kept right on talking as if Max hadn't spoken. "I've seen every one of your plays. You see, my third husband George was a big theater buff. We used to fly in to New York whenever we could to see one of your shows."

"I appreciate that, but--" Max tried again.

Again, the woman ignored him. "Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" she asked. Max breathed a sigh of relief, thinking she might finally let him go. Just as he was about to take a step, she continued. "Fay Cochran," she said, holding out her hand. Maxwell reluctantly took it. As they shook hands, Fay began to blush. "It's just such an honor to meet you, Mr. Sheffield," she gushed. "Imagine, a big important man like you, just walking right into our little airport here."

"Uh...yeah," Max said, slightly embarrassed. He began to walk away, eager to get out of the airport, and to put an end to this awkward conversation.

Just when Maxwell thought he was finally free of the airport, Grace spoke up. "Dad, I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat?"

"Sure, sweetheart, right after we check in to our hotel, OK?" he replied.

"But, Dad, I haven't eaten anything since breakfast," Grace said pleadingly.

Max heaved a sigh. Reluctantly, he walked up to Helen, a young, blonde, attractive-looking woman standing behind a counter. "Excuse me, miss, but do you know of any place on the island where we could get a bite to eat?"

"Well, there's always the lunch counter," she suggested.

"Oh, is it nearby?" Max asked.

"You could say that. You're standing in front of it.".

Max couldn't help thinking that her Texas accent was sort of cute. "Oh," he said with a smile. "Well, I guess our problems are solved then! Grace, tell the lady what you want."

"Have you ever failed a health inspection?" Grace asked, completely serious. The question obviously took Helen by surprise.

"Uh, no," she said tentatively. "Roy eats here every day, and he's perfectly fine." She pointed to a rather large man standing behind the counter of Aeromass Airlines. "OK, well, I wouldn't say he's 'fine,'" Helen said. "But at least the food hasn't killed him. I keep trying, though."

Grace thought for a moment. "OK, can I see a menu?" she asked.

"Here you go. By the way, I'm Helen Chappell. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Max looked at his two older children. "Are you hungry, too?"

Brighton shook his head. "I brought snacks from home for the plane."

"Me, neither," Maggie said.

"Miss Fine?" Max asked.

Fran thought for a moment. "What kind of Fine would I be if I turned down food?" she said with a laugh. "Let me see what you've got." She moved over to Grace to get a look at the menu. After considering the choices for a moment, she said, "I'd better just have a salad. I've got a date tonight." She winked at Maxwell knowingly.

Max groaned quietly. She'd barely been on Nantucket half an hour, and already she'd found a date. Well, if she could flirt, so could he. He decided to work his charms on Helen and see how Miss Fine liked it. "So, Helen, have you lived on this island all your life?" he asked flashing her his best smile.

Helen shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm originally from Texas. I moved here when I was 10. I've lived here pretty much all my life since then."

"We're from New York," Fran said.

"Really?" Helen asked. "I lived there for awhile, trying to pursue my music career. My lifelong dream is to become a concert cellist."

"Did you ever try to get work on Broadway?" Max asked. 'If she's interested in theater, we'll have something in common!' he thought.

"No," Helen said. "I really want to play in an ochestra. I've tried out a few times, but no luck."

Fran could tell what Max was trying to do. He'd seen her flirt and land a date, and now he was trying to prove that he could, too. She was surprised to find that she didn't like it when he talked to other women. Fran had always thought, if they truly were 'just friends,' then they should be allowed to date freely without a problem. That obviously didn't seem to be the case here. Fran decided it was best to hide her feelings. No way was she going to let Maxwell know this bothered her.

Max smiled warmly at Helen. "That's too bad. I'm sure you'll get it someday. If it's meant to be, it'll happen. I know what it's like to not succeed at something. I've produced a few plays in my time that didn't quite go as I'd hoped."

Fran laughed. "Oh, come on Mr. Sheffield, quit being so modest!" Turning to Helen she explained, "Mr. Sheffield is a major Broadway producer. Three-time Tony Award winner." Helen looked impressed.

Max shrugged. "Miss Fine, please, there is no need to brag." He paused. "And it's actually four- time Tony Award winner."

"Three, four, what's the diff?" Fran asked. "Either way, I happen to like your plays."

"Thank you, Miss Fine." Max blushed slightly. Even though he could see that she was slightly bothered by his flirtation with Helen, he also knew that she meant what he said about liking his plays. No matter what else happened between them, he and Fran always seemed to maintain a comfortable underlying friendship. He liked that, and he had hoped to preserve it by taking "it" back. But he also knew that this charade could not last much longer.

Max decided to go ahead and try asking Helen out. What was the worst that could happen? She could say no. Of course, she could very well say yes, too. He still wanted Miss Fine to know that she was not the only person here who was capable of getting a date. "Um, Helen, if you're interested, maybe we could go to a show sometime. I have a knack for getting tickets to sold-out plays and concerts."

Helen smiled. "Oh, that's really sweet of you, but I'm engaged." She held up her left hand to show off her ring.

"Oh...." Max said, trying his best not to show that he was disappointed. He knew there was a chance she'd say no, but he hadn't even considered the possibility that she might already be spoken for! How could he have been so bloody stupid?! He swallowed hard. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

"Joe Hackett. He and his brother Brian own Sandpiper," she said, pointing to the handsome man standing behind the Sandpiper counter. "We've been friends since we were kids, so it already seems like we've spent a lifetime together."

Fran spoke up. "Did you say Brian? Brian Hackett?"

"Yeah, why? Do you know him?"

"He just flew us in. Plus, he asked me out," Fran said with a smile.

"Oh, that's great. I've known Brian all my life, too. He's a great guy," Helen said.

"He seemed nice," Fran agreed.

"If you go for the young, over-confident pretty-boy type," Max couldn't help muttering under his breath.

Fran glanced over at her boss. "Jealous, are we?" she teased.

"N-no, of course not," Max stammered, lying through his teeth. "I-I just don't think he's your type." He knew he'd just put his foot in his mouth, big-time, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Uh-huh," Fran said. "And just what exactly is my type?" Fran could tell he had just lied and was now trying to worm his way out of it. She had to admit, it was fun watching him get so jealous. The last time she'd seen him get this worked up was when she'd nearly married Brighton's French tutor.

Maxwell looked at her and tried desperately to think of a way to get out of the hole he had just dug himself into. Finally, he looked at his three children and said, "Well, I think we'd better be getting to our hotel, don't you?"

Even Niles was aware that his boss had completely backed himself into a corner. If it had been anyone else, he would have found the situation laughable. He decided to try and help before Max made it any worse. The butler looked at his watch and said, "Yes. Come along, children, or we'll lose our reservation." The family said their goodbyes to Helen and started to leave the airport.

On the way out, Max managed to pull Niles aside. "Thank you, old man. I guess I got myself in pretty deep back there, didn't I?"

"Don't mention it, sir. I would never stand by while a person drowned." Niles thought for a moment, then added, "Well, maybe if it was Miss Babcock....."