C.C. sat down on the sofa in Maxwell's office with a sigh, and kicked her Prada shoes off. The day had been a flurry of activity, between solidifying the last few Broadway contracts in the buffer, setting up the house in Beverly Hills long-distance, and squeezing in a second visit to her new OB/GYN. Fran had been pushing her into seeing her own doctor, but C.C. was reluctant. The battery-operated dolls, the refusal to wear clothing…she somehow sensed that Fran's doctor was not her particular style. Dear Niles, who spent every spare moment on the Internet researching childbirth, had found Dr. Orville Schell. The obstetrician was in his 70th year, yet was straight as a sapling and sharp of mind. During her introductory visit, C.C. felt completely at ease and decided that though Dr. Schell was aging he was not aged.

"Ms. Babcock," Dr. Schell had told her in his office after her first examination, "I believe the twinkle in your eye will be realized in early September."

C.C. blushed at his quaint terminology, and twisted her engagement ring self-consciously. Niles squeezed her hand reassuringly. "What about her medications?" Niles asked the doctor. Dr. Schell leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Most of the pills she's currently taking are safe for pregnant women. I was concerned about one of the anti-seizure medications, but I conferred with Dr. Shin and he agreed that that prescription was no longer necessary."

Dr. Schell rifled through some papers on his desk and started scribbling notes. "You'll need to start prenatal vitamins right away, and I want you to make sure you rest when you feel tired." He gave a warning glance towards C.C., as did Niles.

"OK, I get the message," she grumbled.

"We'll schedule an appointment for two weeks from now; your blood work should be back and we'll review that and schedule your first ultrasound."

C.C. and Niles left the office with a folder full of pamphlets and information. Niles babbled on about birthing plans, while C.C. secretly craved a bourbon that she couldn't have.

During that second appointment, C.C. learned that all her tests were favorable, and all was well with the baby. She also had to break the news to Dr. Schell that she'd soon be moving to California. She'd developed a rapport with the doctor in a short time, and felt reluctant to leave him. He assured her that the trip to the West Coast, whether she drove or flew, wouldn't hurt the baby, and gave her the names of several obstetricians in the Los Angeles area. C.C. privately wondered if there was a tactful way to request another doctor over 70…

C.C. slipped her shoes back on and decided that a nice, warm shower might revive her before dinner. As she headed upstairs, she heard Fran on the phone with a caterer.

"What do you mean you can't do our profiles in an ice sculpture? I gave you a photograph!"

C.C. was glad that Maxwell had planned this elaborate first anniversary party – it gave something for Fran to focus on, and hopefully forget her discomfort now that she was near her due date.

"It also keeps her nose out of my wedding, whenever that may be," C.C. thought as she adjusted the water. As she turned her back to the pulsing water, she closed her eyes and sighed. Suddenly she heard a noise outside the bathroom. Barely grabbing a towel to cover herself, she poked her dripping head out the door and called, "Hazel? Is that you?"

Niles emerged from the bedroom, undoing his necktie. He was tired from spending the afternoon with movers, directing them on what to pack, how to pack it, and into which room in the new house it would go. "Yes, Babs," he replied, unbuttoning his shirt, "you wouldn't believe the day I've had…try to explain the value of a Chippendale suite to a pair of adenoidal behemoths…."

"Well, wouldn't a good, hot shower feel nice right now, then?" she asked, and began divesting him of the rest of his clothes before he could respond. Laughing giddily, she pulled Niles into the shower with her, and embraced her and covered her mouth with his. She responded in full measure, her hands working their way down his body aggressively. He pulled her closer to him and groaned when her hands reached their ultimate destination. They worked themselves into a lather without any soap, and both were left gasping within a few minutes.

While they were dressing, Niles was still trying to clear his head, and commented, "for an old broad, you sure wear me out." C.C. laughed deep in her throat and replied, "just consider that a warm-up for later, Lover."

Niles smiled, for he was now used to her raging libido. After the morning sickness had passed, C.C.'s hormones had suddenly elevated to warp speed, and she required his services regularly. And while pregnancy had smoothed over the rough edges in her personality, one thing hadn't changed: C.C. Babcock got what she wanted, and when she wanted. Which provided for some awkward moments at the Home Depot, and in a limousine, to name just two places. Niles' British reserve was tested at moments like this, but fortunately, he was fifty percent French, and one hundred percent male, so he willingly complied with her lusty desires.

Niles and C.C. joined the family for dinner, as was the practice lately. The household roles were shifting, in anticipation for the move to California. The older girl had her husband there, and the two were talking about an upcoming trip to Japan. C.C. hadn't kept up with the family gossip, so she wasn't quite sure what was going on. But it sounded like the couple would be there for the anniversary party, anyway. The party. C.C. sipped her Perrier thoughtfully. She didn't know if she was up to a night of making merry with people she didn't know, and being deprived alcohol on top of it… She sighed. Well, at least it was another opportunity to see Nanny Fine squeeze her pregnant self into a gown many sizes too small.

Niles began to clear the table, and the youngest girl got up to help. C.C., without thinking, gathered some plates and followed them out to the kitchen.

"Did I just see that?" Fran whispered to Max. "Miss Babcock doing manual labor?"

"Manual Labor – wasn't he the first president of Puerto Rico?" Brighton joked.

The others turned and looked at him.

"Um, sorry…." he mumbled. "Just wanted to lighten the mood…"

The other three returned from the kitchen bearing coffee and dessert. As Niles started pouring the coffee, Max asked "Lighten the mood for what? Out with it, B, I know you. You've got something on your mind."

"Well," Brighton drawled, looking down, suddenly fascinated with his napkin, "I've been thinking…"

"That would explain the beads of perspiration," Maggie interjected.

Brighton waited for the laughter to subside before he continued. "I don't want to go to Harvard right away." Noticing his father about to erupt, he continued hastily: "I want to see the world. Or at least Europe. I'm thinking France."

Maxwell, Fran, Maggie and Grace all started talking at once. C.C. couldn't concentrate on the conversation. She reached under the table and found Niles' knee. She caressed it and shot him a meaningful glance.

"Um," Niles said, standing up, "if you'll excuse me, I've still got a lot of arranging to do before the move…" and he headed upstairs.

"I'd better help him," C.C. said, leaving the table. "Lord knows, if left to his own devices, he'll forget to pack my things…"

The others barely noticed their departure; everyone was loudly discussing Brighton's decision. Grace glanced up at C.C. as she disappeared up the stairs, and a small smile appeared on her lips. She didn't know why she cared, but she was glad that Niles and Miss Babcock had found each other.