Fran preened in the mirror, checking her appearance before she left for Ciao Bella. Fluffing her dark brown curls, she gazed at her reflection. A kernel of uncertainty grew, swelling within her being.
As much as I enjoy Doug's company, I really don't feel up to meeting him today. I wonder if he'll mind if I call and cancel our date?
Her hand passed over the lilac crocheted sweater, her fingers smoothing over the curve of her hips enveloped in the charcoal skirt. She smiled, willing herself to feel some measure of excitement.
Fran, this isn't like you, she thought as her smile faltered. You'll have a good time with Doug. Besides, it seems a shame to waste this outfit and makeup. And you don't have to stay if you don't want to.
Steeling her resolve, a genuine smile crossed Fran's face. Her eyes shifted to the upper right hand corner of the mirror when she saw Niles pause midway down the staircase. With a quick wink, she focused on her reflection and applied another coat of lipstick.
"You look very fetching today Ms. Fine. Where are you off to?"
"Don't you remember? I'm meeting Doug at Ciao Bella at three."
"Oh yes," Niles said continuing down the staircase, "now I remember." He stood at the landing as she checked her appearance once last time. "Will you be joining the family for dinner tonight Ms. Fine?"
"Honestly Niles, I don't know. I'll call and let you know if I'm going to eat out."
He followed Fran to the closet and held out her charcoal gray faux fur hooded wool cape. She reached out to open the door but before she twisted the doorknob, her laughter filled the room.
"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"
Wiping her eyes, Fran replied, "I'm fine Niles. I just had the funniest thought."
"Obviously. What were you thinking?"
"Well I can laugh about it now but I wasn't too pleased when it happened."
"What Ms. Fine?"
"Remember a few years ago when I had two dates for Valentine's Day?"
Niles grinned. "Oh yes. I remember that quite well. You thought Mr. Sheffield was your secret admirer when in actuality it was Master Brighton's friend Tommy."
"Thanks for the recap. Anyway, I was just thinking that I'm glad that won't be happening today." Fran glanced down at her watch. "I'm running late! See you later Niles."
Maxwell absently drummed his fingers against his thigh as the limousine maneuvered through the heavy flow of afternoon traffic. He closed his eyes and let his head drop softly against the cushioned headrest.
A mishmash of thoughts swam in his head. He loved Fran. He was ready to share his feelings with her but he wasn't sure if she was ready to accept them.
What if I'm too late? What if she has already fallen in love with…with him and is ready to move on with her life?
Maxwell pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. His eyes snapped open in unison with his fist striking the cushioned seat.
No! Fran loves me. I know she does. We need each other and I'll be damned if I lose her to someone else!
His body lurched forward slightly when the car rolled to a stop. Maxwell sat up and stared out the window. Ciao Bella was less than a few blocks away. Glancing down at his wrist, Maxwell was shocked to see that he was twenty minutes behind schedule.
Bloody hell! I hope she's still there.
He pressed the intercom and waited for the driver to respond.
"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"
"I'll get out here. When we're ready, I'll call you."
"Yes sir."
Taking a deep breath, Maxwell cracked the door open and stepped smoothly from the limousine. Closing the door behind him, he turned to watch the sleek black car continue down the street. As he walked toward Ciao Bella, lines from a Rolling Stone's song popped into his head.
…Tonight and every night,
I will be your knight in shining armour
Coming to your emotional rescue
You will be mine, you will be mine, all mine
You will be mine, you will be mine, all mine
I will be your knight in shining armour
Riding across the desert with a fine Arab charger
Maxwell failed to smother his burst of laughter. He continued down the street, ignoring the odd looks from passers by.
I will be coming to your emotional rescue, he thought, although my charger runs on a different kind of horsepower.
Maxwell saw Fran sitting at one of the wrought iron tables. The wind played with her hair, fluttering her dark brown locks. He stood a few feet behind her, gathering his courage. He wasn't sure what to say or how things would turn out but he had no choice. He had to take the chance.
As he drew near the café, Maxwell took several short light breaths to steady himself. He reluctantly pushed aside his desire to draw her into his arms and take her mouth in a searing kiss.
"Hello Ms. Fine."
Fran jumped, startled by the smooth familiar British voice beside her. She held her hand to her chest as if to calm her rapidly beating heart.
Of all people, the last person she expected to see was Maxwell Sheffield. He looked delicious dressed in a black jacket and pants with a charcoal gray turtleneck.
Isn't odd that even if we don't see one another that we end up dressed similarly to each other?
"Mr. Sheffield, what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"
"Ms. Fine, – "
"It was that yenta wasn't it? Niles is so in for it when we get home." She blew out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry Mr. Sheffield. I don't know whose mouth stays open more, Niles' or my mother's."
His laughter crackled around them at her sarcastic comment. Regaining his composure, Maxwell smiled down at Fran.
"May I join you Ms. Fine?"
"Oh. Well, actually Mr. Sheffield, – "
"If you'd rather I not sit down, I'd understand."
Oy, he must be picking up my guilt trips.
"It's just that – " Fran sighed then shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Never mind. Please sit down Mr. Sheffield."
When Doug gets here, this is going to go over great.
"Would you care to order something Ms. Fine?" Maxwell asked settling across from Fran.
"I'll have the blood orange sorbet."
"Sorbet Ms. Fine? Are you sure you don't want gelato?"
"Oh I want gelato Mr. Sheffield but with Christmas and Hanukkah coming up, I need to behave myself. I still want to fit into my clothes just in case I have plans for New Years Eve."
His body stiffened at the insinuation. "I see. One scoop or two Ms. Fine?"
"Two." At Maxwell's raised eyebrow, Fran said, "I'm planning on being good, not be a saint."
"I'll be back."
Fran watched a flurry of people shuffle pass the ice cream parlor, their arms loaded with presents and shopping bags. Her focus shifted when she heard Maxwell thank someone for holding the door open for him.
"Here you are Ms. Fine," he said passing the sorbet to her.
"Thank you Mr. Sheffield. You bought two blood orange sorbets?"
"I started to buy the mocha chip gelato. But then I remembered what you said about the holidays coming up, and between your mother and Niles both cooking, well…do I really need to go any further?"
Fran smiled, shaking her head. "No."
Maxwell shifted against the wrought iron chair, forcing his attention away from Fran. She tilted her head from side to side, curling her tongue around the sorbet. The gentle bobbing of her head coupled with her mews of pleasure hypnotized him and sent his mind spiraling into illicit territory.
Doesn't she realize the affect she has on me? Watching her consume that bloody sorbet makes me want to forget I'm a gentleman. I want to draw her body into mine and utterly ravish her!
Fran opened her eyes to meet Maxwell's intense gaze. Desire echoed within the depths of his eyes as he nibbled at the cone. His lips parted slightly, nipping a tiny piece of sorbet then smoothing the indentation with his mouth.
Doesn't he know what he's doing to me? I can almost feel the sharp edge of his teeth leaving bite marks across my skin. He makes me want to grab him by the collar and scream, "Take me!"
Biting the edge of her lip, an unwanted vision of Doug popped in her head.
We've got to get out of here before Doug shows up.
"Ms. Fine, – "
"Um, Mr. Sheffield, would you like to go for a walk?"
"Yes. That would be lovely."
Awkwardness settled between Fran and Maxwell as they strolled in silence through Central Park. A soft crisp breeze, tempered with the afternoon sun, swirled around them. Spotting a couple leaving the park, he escorted her across the grounds to the abandoned bench.
Maxwell knew he and Fran needed to talk. Too much time passed between them without clarification. He knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but Maxwell wasn't sure of how to start.
"How's your sorbet?"
"What?"
"How's your sorbet? Do you like it?"
Looking at the dessert then to his companion, Maxwell replied, "It's not bad Ms. Fine but to be honest, I wish I had gotten the gelato."
"I know what you mean."
"Ms. Fine, I'd like to talk to you about the other night."
"The other night? Oh, you mean when Maggie walked into the living room."
"Yes. I – "
"It's okay Mr. Sheffield. After I spoke with Maggie, I had some time to think about the situation and look at things from your point of view. I understand why you were so upset."
"You do?"
"Of course. Look, it's hard enough for a kid to imagine their parents having sex but seeing a live demonstration is something entirely different."
"Ms. Fine, we weren't having sex."
Fran huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I know we weren't having sex Mr. Sheffield. My point is that any form of sexual expression is enough to rattle a kid."
"You're right," Maxwell replied, a faint smile crossing his face. "Time and again, you have proven yourself correct more often than I have been. I need to put more faith in your judgments Ms. Fine."
"Mr. Sheffield, that's very sweet of you to say. But I have to be honest. Your reaction wouldn't have been my reaction but I do understand it."
"I know Ms. Fine. Our opposing points of view make us a formidable combination. Our unique chemistry is something I've come to treasure and cherish."
"So many compliments Mr. Sheffield. I don't know what to say." Fran paused. A playful grin danced across her face. "Wait a minute. Is there alcohol in your sorbet?"
Maxwell drew back stiffly. "I assure you Ms. Fine there is no alcohol in my sorbet. I wanted to thank you. Not only for speaking with Margaret but for your words of comfort and support, for your keen observations, and for your warmth and generous demeanor."
He curled his fingers in her palm. Raising her arm, Maxwell placed a light, tender kiss on the back of her hand. He released her hand and met her gaze.
"I truly appreciate how much you have done for me and the children over the past five years. And I'm sorry I haven't expressed it to you often enough."
"Thank you Mr. Sheffield. You don't know how much your words mean to me."
Maxwell turned his body toward hers. Laying his arm on the back of the bench, he slid across the slats, moving closer to Fran. The late afternoon breeze whipped stray threads of her hair across her cheek. With a steady hand, he combed the wisps of hair from her face.
Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she stilled his hand with her own. She drew his hand away from her face, releasing his wrist when he cradled her jaw. Her heart began to thunder in her chest in anticipation of his kiss. Fran's lips parted as her hand slipped over his firm toned arm up to his shoulder.
Their magnetic draw propelled them toward each other. Their eyes began to drift shut as the warmth of their breaths mingled against their mouths. He whispered her name and as he leaned in to capture her mouth with a tender kiss, a wayward soccer ball knocked Maxwell backward.
"What the – "
A small chubby boy puffed his way up to the bench. Between the wind and playing soccer, his straight blond hair was in complete disarray.
"Sorry mister."
"That's all right." Maxwell smiled and tossed the boy's ball back to him. "Here you go."
"Thanks!"
He watched the stout boy run back to his friends and continue playing soccer. Turning back to Fran, Maxwell saw her picking up the strewn debris knocked from his hand.
"Give that to me Ms. Fine. I'll throw it away."
Stuffing the trash in his hand, Fran asked, "Can I borrow your cell phone Mr. Sheffield? I need to…call my mother."
"You'll have to get it out of my pocket."
"Oh, a full body search!"
A deep blush colored his face. "Ms. Fine!"
"Oh come on," Fran replied standing to her full height, "you know you like it when I tease you."
Her fingers slid down the center of his chest, stopping at the buttons of his double-breasted jacket. Locking her eyes with his, Fran popped each button loose then pushed the jacket open. Tracing the placket of his shirt, she felt his chest contract as he expelled a slight gasp.
Maxwell swallowed hard, unable to break her gaze. All cogent thoughts flew from his mind the instant she touched him. He closed his eyes under the weight of his desire.
There were no words to describe how much he wanted her but now was not the time. Maxwell opened his eyes and stared at Fran. He had to focus and take control of himself before he acted impetuously.
"Ms. Fine," he managed to breathe out, "my cell phone is in the left breast pocket of my jacket."
She reached into his jacket and pulled out the small black phone. Standing on the tips of her toes, Fran lightly kissed his cheek.
"Thanks, I won't be long."
Fran punched the numbers on the telephone, watching Maxwell walk toward the trash bin.
"Come on, come on," she said impatiently, "where the hell are you?" When she heard the line click, Fran whispered, "Niles, do me a favor?"
"Certainly Ms. Fine."
"When Doug calls, tell him that I'm doing something family related and I'll talk to him later."
Before Niles could respond, Fran disconnected the line. Her smile brightened when Maxwell returned to the bench after stopping to watch the children play in the park.
"Is everything all right Ms. Fine?"
"Perfect. Ma's really looking forward to spending the holidays with you and the kids."
"Spending the holidays together as a family is always a – "
"Pain in the tuchas?"
"A unique delight."
"Same dif."
Maxwell took the cell phone from Fran. "Are you ready to go Ms. Fine?"
"Whenever you are Mr. Sheffield."
Maxwell offered his elbow to Fran. Linking their arms together, they strolled toward the entrance of the park.
"I hope you've got enough money for a cab. I don't think I have enough."
"Not to worry Ms. Fine," Maxwell replied dialing the cell phone, "I have everything taken care of."
They stood outside Ciao Bella's making small talk when the limousine pulled up to the curb ten minutes later.
Opening the door, Maxwell said, "Since neither one of us has had the chance to go Christmas shopping, would you like to go now?"
Fran blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Yes. What do you say? We'll make a day of it, well, a late afternoon and evening of it. Then afterward we can have dinner out if you wish."
"That sounds wonderful Mr. Sheffield. I promise, I'll just pop in the house and grab my credit cards."
"Don't worry about that Ms. Fine. When I said I'll take care of everything, I meant everything."
Niles opened the door to the mixed sound of Fran and Maxwell's laughter. In both hands they carried several overstuffed shopping bags from various stores.
"Thank you old man."
"Don't forget there's more in the limo," Fran said dropping the bags at the base of the stairs. Maxwell set the bags next to hers and went back outside.
"Did the two of you leave anything in the stores?"
Fran giggled, clutching her friend's arm. "Oh Niles, Mr. Sheffield and I had so much fun!"
Niles peered around the corner to see if Maxwell reentered the house.
"Not to put a damper on your evening but Mr. Abrams called. He asked me to make his apologies to you for not talking to you in person or over the phone but he had to fly out to Houston tonight to secure a business deal and will call you in a few days."
"Thanks Niles."
They turned at the sound of the front door slamming followed by rustling bags as Maxwell stepped in the foyer.
"I think I've gotten everything from the limo. Niles, would you help me bring the shopping bags up to my room and to Ms. Fine's room?"
"Of course Mr. Sheffield."
After sorting and identifying which bags belonged to Fran and Maxwell, the three of them made several trips up and down the staircase until they cleared the bags from the foyer.
"Oh my god! Mr. Sheffield, look at all those bags!" Fran said as she and Maxwell entered his bedroom. "It looks like you tried to buy out Macy's!"
"As if your room is any less congested than mine."
"It's not!"
"This from the woman who said 'Oh we can't leave yet, I need one more thing' and came back with three bags!"
"Hey, it was one more thing! They just put it in three separate bags."
"Do I need to escort you to your room to prove my point?"
"Lead the way Mr. Sheffield!"
Niles watched their playful affectionate banter with a bemused eye. Before they stepped into the corridor, he called out to Maxwell.
"Do you need me for anything else sir?"
A sheepish smile crossed Maxwell's features. He had forgotten his butler was in the room.
"No. Thank you Niles."
An audible gasp poured from Fran's mouth as she entered her bedroom. Pulling the shopping bags aside, she cleared a path to her dresser. The mix of paper and plastic bags emphasized the small space where she slept. Her bedroom looked as though it was on the verge of bursting at any given moment.
"Did I really buy all of this stuff?"
"Yes," Maxwell said leaning against the doorframe, "and soon I'll have the bill to prove it."
Her eyes grew wide in concern. "This is just like my shopping addiction."
"No, its not."
He followed her path, setting shopping bags aside until he reached her. He stood in front of Fran and tipped her chin upward for her eyes to meet his.
"This is nothing like your shopping addiction whatsoever. You weren't making purchases as a substitute for a fear of loneliness. Your kind and generous nature allowed you to make purchases for our families. That, Ms. Fine, is the difference."
Fran smiled at Maxwell. "Well don't forget your financing helped with this shopping expedition. Thank you so much. For everything."
"You're welcome Ms. Fine. More than welcome."
Maxwell brushed his knuckles against her cheek. His eyes drank in every aspect of her face. He watched her eyes closed and her lips part in expectation. He wanted to take possession of her mouth in a fierce kiss but his consciousness reminded him that they were standing in her bedroom with the door wide open.
At any given moment, one of the children could walk by. And even though he knew they approved of his pursuing a relationship with Fran, he didn't want a repeat of their night in the living room.
Fran felt Maxwell's mouth veer from her lips, instead leaving a gentle kiss on her cheek. When she opened her eyes, Fran could see a mix of desire and apprehension in his eyes. Reaching up to brush her fingers over his face, she smiled then returned his kiss with a light friendly peck on the lips.
Maxwell closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to leave before they started something he wouldn't be able to finish – at least with the children so close.
"It's getting late. I should let you get some rest Ms. Fine."
"You need your rest too."
He listened at the tone of her words, waiting for a sign of anger or hurt to register. When none came, he blinked in surprise.
"Yes. I do need my rest as well. If you want to sleep in tomorrow, I'll explain to the children why you won't be joining us."
"Thank you Mr. Sheffield but I'll be fine."
He nodded then turned toward the door. Maxwell stretched his hand out and felt Fran slip her hand in his. When he reached the threshold of her door, he turned to face her.
"I had a wonderful time this evening."
"So did I. Thanks again Mr. Sheffield."
"You're welcome Ms. Fine." Maxwell started down the hall then stopped. "Ms. Fine?"
"Yes Mr. Sheffield?"
"You said something earlier. You alluded to the two of us being the children's parents."
Fran sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with him after the amazing evening they shared.
"I know I'm not the kids' mother. And I'm not trying to replace her but I do love them as if they were my own. And even though I'm their nanny, technically we are their parents."
"As far as we – as far as I am concerned, we are family and you are their mother. And I defy anyone who would suggest otherwise."
"Thank you," she whispered flinging her arms around his neck. "You have no idea what that means to me to hear you say that."
When she pulled slightly out of his embrace, Maxwell could see the wet tracks spilling down her cheeks. Cradling her jaw, he brushed the tears from her face.
"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"
"More than all right," she replied with a radiant smile. "I'll see you in the morning."
Maxwell pressed his mouth to hers in a quick tender kiss. Her breath caught, shocked by his unexpected token of affection. Slipping his arms around her waist, Maxwell pulled her body into his, deepening their kiss.
"Good night Ms. Fine," he whispered when he released her.
With a shaky hand, Fran ran her fingertips over her swollen mouth.
"Good night Mr. Sheffield."
For the second time within the past two weeks, Fran lay in the center of her bed staring at the ceiling. Her mind and body tingled in a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Her fingers danced across her lips, tracing the phantom impression of his mouth against her own.
She tried to suppress it but an automatic comparison of Maxwell and Doug popped in her mind. While Doug's kiss was friendly and tender and had the potential of something more, Maxwell's kiss was brimming in passion that infused itself in her soul.
It spoke of wanting, longing, fear, and fierceness. It spoke of true love. It was the kind of kiss that seeped into your core and radiated throughout your body.
But what did it all mean? Was their afternoon together an indication that he was finally ready to let her into his life? His behavior seemed to indicate that he wanted more but their on-again off-again relationship was a once too traveled road.
Fran closed her eyes, her rampant mind replaying the end of their evening. Overwhelmed by his declaration, she couldn't believe that he openly admitted that he regarded her as the children's mother.
Then there was that kiss. When they were standing in her bedroom, he changed his mind about kissing her initially. She assumed he didn't want Niles or one of the children to discover them in a comprising position.
He caught her completely off guard when he pulled her into his arms in the hallway. It was riskier than being in her bedroom.
What changed his mind?
Fran pushed the covers from her flushed body. The sensation of his hands stroking her back while his tongue lapped against hers seemed vivid and real. She turned and looked at the clock.
Oy! I'd better get some sleep if I want to have breakfast with Mr. Sheffield and the kids. But how can I sleep when I can still feel the presence of his body against mine after saying good night just a couple of hours ago?
Fran turned over, drawing her pillow into her arms. Nuzzling its softness, she yawned as her whirlwind day finally settled upon her. Grasping the bedclothes, Fran sleepily covered her body.
"Good night Mr. Sheffield," she murmured, "I love you."
Maxwell stood in the mirror running a comb through his thick black locks. His hair had grown out considerably since last year, curling below the nape of his neck. He told himself that he wanted a change of style but deep down, it was for her.
He loved the sensuous way her fingers slid through his hair or tucked a stray curl in place. Maxwell set the comb on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. Subconsciously, he realized that he sought her attention and approval over the last five years.
It began innocently enough with subtle things like selecting a tie or matching something in his wardrobe. The dynamic in their relationship evolved and she began to help him resolve deeper personal issues such as trust, dependability, and love.
You were a fool once before, Maxwell thought as he finished styling his hair. Just make sure you don't let this opportunity slip through your fingers.
Spraying Aramis on his pulse points, Maxwell switched off the bathroom light and headed back into the bedroom to dress. He slipped into a crisp white shirt then let his fingers wander through the tie rack until he found one of her favorites.
Maxwell knotted the green and gold tie then intentionally left it slightly askew. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist. Fran straightening his tie was a ritual he secretly enjoyed for years. Pulling the khaki colored suit from the valet, he finished dressing and checked his appearance a final time before heading downstairs.
"Morning dad," Maggie, Brighton, and Grace said when Maxwell entered the dining room.
"Good morning children."
"Good morning sir."
"Good morning Niles." His smiled brightened when he saw Fran. "Good morning Ms. Fine. That is a stunning outfit you're wearing."
Fran twirled before taking her chair. She knew he appreciated how her black knit skirt and olive green sweater clung to her body.
"Good morning Mr. Sheffield," she replied reaching over to straighten his tie, "and thanks."
"Since the children are out of school," Maxwell began as Niles served breakfast, "I thought we'd do something fun before we celebrated the holidays."
"There's an exhibit of Egyptian Art at The Met that I'd really love to see," Grace said cutting into her eggs with the edge of her fork.
"That sounds fascinating Grace. What time does The Met open?"
"Nine thirty."
"Splendid. We can leave around eleven and should be out by mid afternoon. What do you want to do after lunch?"
"May we go to Rockefeller Center?" Maggie asked.
"What a wonderful idea Margaret. I've always enjoyed their displays and decorations for Christmas."
"That's not why she wants to go," Brighton said chewing on the corner of his toast. "Greg will be there."
"Who the devil is Greg?"
"Greg's her boyfriend," Grace replied.
"What happened to Paul?"
"That's been over for months now. Honestly Mr. Sheffield, you need to keep up."
Shaking his head at his daughter's revolving social life, Maxwell resumed eating breakfast. The dining room was abuzz in chatter as Fran, Maggie, Grace, and Brighton discussed plans for the afternoon.
As he set the breakfast dishes on the buffet, the doorbell chimed. Checking his watch, Niles arched his eyebrow, wondering who would be calling at this hour of the morning.
"Who was at the door?" Maxwell asked absently when Niles returned.
"A courier sir. He dropped off a package for Ms. Fine."
"For me?"
"Yes Ms. Fine," Niles said setting the package on the table in front of her, "for you."
A nervous shiver ran down her spine as the family's focus centered on her. She licked her lips and stared at the box placed in front of her. The last thing she wanted to do was open a gift from Doug in front of everyone.
"Are you trying to use your psychic powers to guess what's in the box Fran?"
She threw an irritated glance across the table. "No Brighton. I was trying to decide whether I was going to open it now but I think I'll open it later."
"Aren't you curious to see what's inside Ms. Fine?"
"I'm not that curious. Besides, we have to get ready to leave for the museum in an hour or so."
"Nonsense Ms. Fine," Maxwell replied. "How long will it take you to open a box? I've seen you go through less measures to open a carton of Haagen Dasz."
Fran rolled her eyes. "Aren't you a laugh riot?"
"Fran, do you know who it's from?" Grace asked.
"I bet I know," Niles muttered under his breath.
"Come on Fran," Maggie pleaded, "open it."
"Okay, okay. God, you're all a bunch of yentas."
Fran ran the butter knife along the taped edges of the box. Lifting the flaps, she pushed the top open. Nestled inside the cardboard box, lay a card on top of a black velvet case.
"Oh look, there's a card," Niles sang out.
"Thank you for stating the obvious."
Grace hopped out of her chair. "What's the card say Fran?"
A picture of mixed flowers adorned the embossed white card. Opening the card, Fran scanned the note inside.
"Don't keep us in suspense Ms. Fine."
Clutching the note to her chest, Fran said, "Mr. Sheffield! This could be a very personal and private note."
"Oh. I didn't mean to intrude."
Brighton rounded the table and snatched the card out of Fran's hand.
"Brighton!"
"Relax dad, it's not that personal. Actually it doesn't make any sense."
"You will give the card back to Ms. Fine and apologize to her this instant."
He looked at his father then handed the card back to Fran. "I'm sorry."
Setting the card on the table, she slipped her arms around his waist and drew Brighton into her body.
"It's okay B."
"It most certainly is not all right," countered Maxwell. Turning to his son, he said, "You took something that belongs to Ms. Fine which is her personal property. If she wants to share it with us, she will but we must respect her privacy."
Glancing down at the note, Fran patted Brighton's arm.
"B's right. It's not that personal. Honestly, the note is a little odd."
"What do you mean Fran?" Maggie asked leaning across the table.
Niles sighed irritably. "Just read the bloody note!" They all turned around and stared at him. "What? I just said what you all were thinking." With a handful of dishes, he pushed the door open with his hip and entered the kitchen.
Setting the card aside, Fran lifted the velvet case from the box and opened the hinged top.
"Oh my god. They're beautiful."
"What is it Fran?" Maggie asked. "Let me see!"
Fran turned the opened case toward her. Nestled inside was a single strand of cultured freshwater black pearls.
"Wow," Brighton said, "that must have cost Doug a pretty penny."
Maxwell drew back in his chair, bracing his body against his son's observation.
"What makes you think Mr. Abrams sent the necklace Brighton?"
"Get real dad. Who else would send Fran a strand of pearls? She's not dating anyone else."
"I have to admit Fran," conceded Maggie, "it is a beautiful necklace."
"You should put it on," Grace said.
Sensing the change in Maxwell's demeanor, Fran shook her head. "Oh no sweetie, I already opened the box. There's no need for me to put the necklace on."
Grace nudged Fran. "At least read the note."
When Fran hesitated, Maxwell said, "Ms. Fine, you don't have to read it if you don't want to."
"No, it's okay Mr. Sheffield." Fran took a sip of juice then slowly cracked open the card. "It's a typewritten note:"
I thought I lost you but you were right in front of me all along.
She hunched her shoulders. "Like I said, it's a little odd."
"Obviously it has some meaning to the person who wrote it."
Fran looked at Maxwell. There was something in his voice, the way he uttered those words that just didn't sit well with her. Repacking the box, she pushed away from the table.
"Come on kids. Let's get ready to go to the museum."
Brighton and Grace followed Fran from the dining room. Maggie waited until her brother and sister cleared the room before she spoke to her father.
"Look dad, I know you love Fran but if you don't make a move soon, it's going to be too late. I mean Doug is sending her gifts and love notes. How much longer can you possibly take to tell Fran how you feel?"
"Margaret, I appreciate your looking out for me, for us, but believe me when I tell you, I've got everything under control. Fran won't be slipping out of my grasp. Not now, not ever."
Maggie eyed her father suspiciously. Shaking off the feeling that something beyond her comprehension was going on, she rose from the table and kissed Maxwell on the cheek.
"Don't take too long daddy. Fran is the best thing that's happened to you."
"You're wrong sweetheart. You, your brother, and your sister are the best thing that happened to me. Having Fran in our lives is an extra special bonus."
An uncomfortable stillness swallowed the atmosphere as the limousine forged its way through the mid morning traffic. Maxwell and Fran, exchanging polite cursory words, hadn't spoken since breakfast. Sensing the tension that engulfed the car, Grace flopped between them to force a conversation.
"I can't wait to see this exhibit. The art works are supposed to be exceptional."
"How did you find out about this exhibit Gracie?" Maggie asked. "I can't exactly see this being a topic of conversation for the typical fifth grader."
"I was watching a documentary about the discovery of different artifacts recovered in Egypt. At the end of the program, the narrator mentioned that many of the artworks were in exhibits around the world. One of the places listed was The Met."
"I remember that night," Maxwell said. "I was wondering why you were up so late."
"It wasn't that late daddy. I went to bed right after it went off. Fran made sure of it."
Fran smiled down at the young girl beside her. Wrapping her arm around Grace, Fran left a light kiss on top of her head.
"Do we have to go with Gracie?" Brighton whined.
"Yes you do," replied Fran and Maxwell simultaneously. They looked at one another, a shy grin flashed across their face.
"Please continue Ms. Fine. I didn't mean to interrupt you."
"That's okay Mr. Sheffield."
"No Ms. Fine, I insist."
"Will one of you answer my question?"
"Brighton Millhouse Sheffield, you will not take that tone with me or your mother!"
Maxwell's eyes widen in shock. The words spilled automatically from his mouth.
I know the children think of her as their mother. I told her so last night but I still can't believe I said that out loud!
"I mean Ms. Fine. This is a family outing. End of discussion."
The limousine rolled to a stop, pulling smoothly to the curb in front of the museum. Stepping from the car, Maggie, Brighton, and Grace turned to watch their father help Fran from the limousine. Maxwell plucked his membership card from his wallet and handed it to Maggie.
"Margaret, take your brother and sister inside. I need to speak with Ms. Fine for a moment."
"Okay daddy."
Maggie waited until they were a safe distance away from their father. Turning to Brighton, she asked, "You did that on purpose didn't you?"
"Would I do something like that?"
"Absolutely."
Brighton smiled. "What can I say? It's a gift."
"That's because you're a perverse individual whose mission in life is to torment people," Grace said as they entered the building.
"Thank you Gracie."
Maxwell and Fran stood side by side, watching Maggie, Brighton, and Grace enter the museum. Slipping his arm around her waist, he guided Fran through the bustling masses to a less crowded spot down the street.
"Before we join the children, I'd like to talk to you about what I said."
"Mr. Sheffield, it was a slip of the tongue. The kids didn't seem to be too bothered by it. As long as we don't make a big deal about it, it'll be okay."
"I suppose you're right Ms. Fine. I know I told you that I regard you as the children's mother but it wasn't my intention to just blurt it out like that. Brighton has the exceptional ability to know what buttons to push."
"That's our boy. He loves to push the envelope."
The smile on Maxwell's face froze. Odd thoughts concerning his mischievous son formed in his mind.
He wouldn't.
Snippets of Brighton's conversations played in his head. Maxwell could see the pattern of his son's behavior as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Not only would he, he did!
Fran laid her hand on his forearm. Shaking him gently, she watched his transfixed gaze soften.
"Mr. Sheffield? Are you all right?"
"Yes Ms. Fine," he replied patting her arm, "I'm fine. Shall we join the children?"
"Okay."
Offering her his arm, Maxwell and Fran walked back to the museum. Entering the building, they found Maggie, Brighton, and Grace standing next to the information desk.
"Which way to the exhibit Grace?"
"To the right, toward the Sackler Wing."
"Lead the way."
Fran's mouth dropped in awe when she entered the hall. She had never seen large impressive works of art outside of the Sheffield home. Lured by the beauty of the artifacts; Fran clutched Maxwell's arm, fighting the urge to run her fingers along the lines of the sculptures.
"Are you all right Ms. Fine?"
"I'm fine Mr. Sheffield. Everything here is so…I can't even begin to describe it."
"It is a magnificent collection, isn't it? The artworks from the different dynasties are unbelievable. And the fact that they survived centuries later to be displayed here before us is a testament to man's willingness to preserve history."
Arm in arm, they kept an eye on Maggie, Brighton, and Grace, and continued their stroll around the museum. Stopping at each display, Maxwell would impart what knowledge he had of Egyptian art to a fascinated and spellbound Fran.
"What an odd piece," Fran said stopping at an acrylic case.
"Not too close Ms. Fine," Maxwell warned, "I wouldn't want to see you in handcuffs."
With a wink, she ran her finger under his chin. "Are you sure Mr. Sheffield?"
"Ms. Fine," he softly chided as a boyish grin spread across his face.
"Sorry Mr. Sheffield. I can't resist teasing you. According to the little tag there, this piece is entitled Fragmentary Head of a Queen."
A faint blush tinged his face at her suggestive comment. Forcing the image of her being handcuffed from his mind, Maxwell cleared his throat and relayed what history he knew regarding the period in which the piece was created.
"It's either Akhenaten's principal queen, Nefertiti or his secondary queen, Kiya. Actually, the rule of Akhenaten is fascinating. Akhenaten was one of the most profound pharaohs to rule Egypt.
Akhenaten's parents were Amenhotep III and Queen Tiye. His wife was Nefertiti was thought to be a distant relative to Akhenaten. They had six daughters: Ankhesenpaaten, Neferneferuaten-tasharit, Neferneferure, Meketaten, Merytaten, and Sotepenre. During his reign, he earned the title The Heretic Pharaoh."
"Why was he called The Heretic Pharaoh?"
"Not only did he move the capital from Thebes downriver to Amarna but Akhenaten replaced the previous Egyptian gods with a single god, the disc of the sun, the Aten, which incurred the wrath of the very powerful priesthood."
"Oh, so Akhenaten was a rebel."
"Quite. Even his ideas in art and religion were unique and revolutionary and left a lasting impression on the world."
"Really?"
"Yes. Pharaohs of the past were usually portrayed standing in the hunting chariot, bow-and-arrow in hand. However, Akhenaten portrayed himself less god like and more human and is often painted or sculpted seated with his wife Nefertiti and their daughters. It was unheard of for a pharaoh to be portrayed with their families."
Folding her arms, Fran leaned forward and read the tiny plaque beside the display case.
"Why did Akhenaten have more than one wife?"
"That wasn't an uncommon practice for a ruler Ms. Fine. Pharaohs had multiple wives to ensure they would have an heir to succeed them."
"No wonder men have trouble staying faithful to one woman."
"Not all men are like that Ms. Fine. Surely you know that."
"The ones that aren't like that are few and far between, like trying to find a needle in a haystack."
"Sometimes, Ms. Fine, when you're searching in the preverbal haystack, you get lucky."
Fran bit back her flippant response. She studied the man standing beside her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was something in the way he spoke that peaked her curiosity.
Is he flirting with me?
Brushing the idea from her mind, Fran resumed their current topic of conversation.
"What happened to Nefertiti Mr. Sheffield?"
"About twelve years into the Amarna Period, Nefertiti was no longer favored by Akhenaten and vanished. There are no records regarding how she disappeared. They never found her body. It's been speculated that her mummy may have been brought to The Valley of the Kings and buried in a tomb that was created to hide her remains."
"What happened to his other wife?"
"Like Nefertiti, Kiya suddenly disappeared from the history books. There's been wide speculation regarding her fate but the most popular theories are that she fell out of favor with the royal regime, she died in childbirth, or Nefertiti ordered Kiya's murder out of jealousy. There are some academics that believe that Kiya was also King Tutankhamen's mother, which may explain why she held a favored status and titles."
Fran nudged his shoulder playfully. "Wow Mr. Sheffield, you really know a lot about Egyptian history – at least about Akhenaten."
"I was naturally drawn to his reign since Akhenaten had a great artistic influence over Egyptian culture."
"This is better than any soap opera!"
"And much more compelling. Ready to see the next exhibit Ms. Fine?"
Fran nodded then fell silent as they moved on to the next display. With all the knowledge and history surrounding her, she suddenly felt less than and oddly out of place.
Everything's so clear now. He may want me. Some part of him may even love me but we have no future together. He needs some one he can talk to about all the things he loves and appreciates. It's time for me to give up this fairy tale and face reality.
Sensing a shift in her demeanor, Maxwell stopped walking and turned to face Fran. His eyes flickered over her face. The sadness in her eyes sent a shiver of fear through his body.
"Ms. Fine? What's wrong?"
"I'm fine Mr. Sheffield."
"No you're not."
He stared into her eyes, searching her soul for the cause of her sudden melancholy. Raising his hand to her face, Maxwell stepped closer to Fran and stroked her cheek.
"Please tell me what's wrong."
The world around Fran stopped. The hypnotic green gaze of Maxwell's eyes trapped her. She wanted to explain everything to him but the words stalled in her throat.
"It's nothing Mr. Sheffield." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Don't worry about it."
"I worry about you Ms. Fine. I don't like seeing you unhappy."
Her mind whirled in a mixture of sadness, fear, and panic. Fran was desperate to find a safe answer that would satisfy him but not reveal all that she felt.
"It's silly really."
"Then you won't mind telling me. Whatever is bothering you, I'll do my best to help."
Sighing in resignation, Fran replied, "It's just that being here and listening to you, I feel…so inadequate."
"Inadequate? How?"
"Because I'm not as smart or well educated as you are. Or even the kids."
"Let me ask you something. Do you find our family outings boring?"
"At times they can be a little drawn out but nevertheless, I still find them interesting. I almost feel like – "
"Like what Ms. Fine?"
"No. I can't. It's stupid. Can we forget about this and move on?"
"No. I don't want to forget it. I want to know what you're thinking. Please tell me."
"This is so lame but it almost feels like I'm getting a private education. Like being let in on something exclusive. I know that doesn't make sense to you."
Fran began to walk away but Maxwell grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving.
"It makes perfect sense. I'll let you in on a little secret. You are."
"What?"
"I don't mean this to sound condescending in anyway but I've enjoyed watching you during our family outings. It's a privilege to see your universe expand and I'd like to think that I'm helping your world to open up a bit. You are an intelligent woman Fran Fine. I just wish you were as confident in your intellect as I am."
"That's me. Fran Fine, Rhodes Scholar."
"Education doesn't always equate to intelligence Ms. Fine."
"You're just saying that to be nice Mr. Sheffield."
"When it comes to people in my life and things that concern them, I would never say anything superficial."
"I know you wouldn't Mr. Sheffield. You're such a sweet and generous person."
"As are you. And I have another secret to impart to you. Just as I have influenced you and expanded your world, you have taught me many things over the last five years as well."
Fran scoffed. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yeah right. I can see how knowing me has changed your life."
"Can't you see that knowing you has changed my life?"
Maxwell pulled her toward him, curling his fingers around the upper part of her arms. His words carried a husky timbre as he continued his explanation.
"You've taught me not to take life so seriously all the time. You've taught me that not only is it okay for me to fall and make mistakes but you've shown me how to pick myself up again. You've taught me how to appreciate the ordinary things I take for granted. And most importantly, you've taught me to cherish the people in my life."
Fran looked at him, her eyes wide in surprise. A light smile danced across her face. The sincerity of his words captivated and intrigued her.
"I taught you that?"
"You taught me that and so much more. I will be forever in your debt Ms. Fine."
Before she could reply, the sound of a discreet cough broke beside them. Releasing her from his grasp, Maxwell turned and came face to face with a museum tour guide.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude but I'm in the middle of conducting a tour and I really need you to move along through the exhibit."
"Of course," Maxwell replied. "We didn't mean to delay you."
Slipping his arm around her waist, he escorted Fran through the rest of the exhibit. Near the exit, they caught up with Maggie, Brighton, and Grace.
"Where did you three go?" Maxwell asked. "One minute you were in the same room and then you disappeared."
"Daddy, we didn't disappear," Maggie replied. "We saw the two of you having an…intense discussion so we decided to continue touring the exhibit."
Brighton cocked his head to the side. "What were you two talking about anyway?"
"Mind your own business B."
"Well since you take care of us, doesn't that make you our business?"
He watched the expression on his father's face transform from concern to restrained irritation. Holding up his arms in resignation, a mischievous grin crossed Brighton's face.
"So, where are we going for lunch?"
Arching his eyebrow, Maxwell stared at his son. "I made reservations for us at The Tavern on the Green." Glancing down at his watch, he said, "We'd better hurry if we're going to make it on time."
"Are we still going to Rockefeller Center after lunch daddy?" Maggie asked as they exited the museum.
Brighton rolled his eyes. "She just wants to play kissy face with Greg."
"At least I have an actual person to kiss," Maggie replied. "All you have is your arm."
"Children, that's quite enough. Margaret, I'll decide after lunch whether we're still going to Rockefeller Center."
Niles entered the living room at the same time Maxwell opened the door. The family stepped into the house, fatigue written across their faces. Hanging their coats in the closet, Fran, Brighton, Grace, and Maggie filed wearily up the staircase.
"Good evening Mr. Sheffield."
"Good evening Niles," Maxwell replied sorting through the mail. "Were there any messages while we were out?"
"Ms. Babcock phoned to say that she's feeling better. When she threatened to come over and speak with you in person, I informed her that Animal Control will be notified if she roams the city freely without her leash."
Maxwell's mouth formed a slight smirk. "I'll phone CC from my office. Anything else?"
"No sir, that was all. Dinner will be ready in a few of hours."
"Thank you Niles."
Maxwell set the phone on the edge of his desk and pulled the silver wire frames from his face. Raking his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.
After twenty minutes of ranting about Niles' behavior, CC finally told him she was going to Aruba on vacation to recover from her illness since Sheffield/Babcock Productions was on hiatus for the holiday. Maxwell told her they'd pick up negotiations with Justin Graham next year. He bid her a safe trip then hung up the phone.
His mind wandered back to his afternoon with Fran. He enjoyed sharing his knowledge with her and was impressed on how her quick inquisitive mind absorbed information.
Maxwell's smile faltered when he remembered how quiet and withdrawn she became. He sensed that her confession was a halfhearted attempt to pacify him. Something was amiss with her sudden shift in personality and he was certain that his reluctance to advance their relationship was at the center of it.
I know you think that I don't want to be with you Fran but that's the furthest thing from the truth. Please have a little patience sweetheart. I promise I will make it up to you.
A soft tapping shook him from his silent vow. Opening his eyes, Maxwell focused on the figure standing in the threshold of his office.
"Are you all right sir?"
"I'm fine Niles. Is dinner ready?"
"Yes Mr. Sheffield. The family is in the dining room waiting on you. Will you be joining them or dining in your office tonight?"
"No, I'll be there in a minute."
He watched Niles' retreating frame then sank back into the chair. Maxwell closed his eyes as his thoughts revisited his time with Fran.
The world stilled around them when he wrapped his fingers around her arms and pulled her into his body. The only thought passing through his mind was taking her fully in his arms and pushing his mouth onto hers.
Another light tapping on the door shook him from his fantasy. This time when he opened his eyes, Maxwell found the object of his desire.
"Are you coming to dinner Mr. Sheffield?"
He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to push images of kissing Fran from his brain. Rising from the chair, Maxwell rounded the desk and stood in front of her.
Stretching out his hand, he smiled and replied, "Lead the way Ms. Fine."
Brighton lay in the center of the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles. With closed eyes, his head bobbed to the pulsing rhythm of Pearl Jam's Jeremy flowing through the headphones.
His eyes snapped open when the song abruptly ended. He looked up to see Maxwell standing at the side of the bed with the CD player in one hand and the headphone cord in the other. Brighton sat up and pulled the headphones from his ears.
"You need something dad?"
"Yes. An explanation."
"Okay. What do you want me to explain?"
Maxwell looked at his son and sighed. It wasn't Brighton's fault. The fault lies with me. I'm the one who blurted it out.
"You're mad aren't you?"
"I'm not angry Brighton. I'm a little upset."
"I'm sorry I upset you dad."
"You have no reason to apologize son."
"Well I did kind of goad you into saying it. I just don't want you to lose Fran."
Maxwell sat on the side of Brighton's bed. He slipped the glasses from his face and tucked them into his vest pocket.
"What are you talking about Brighton?"
"Aren't you upset about what happened in the limo?"
"How did you know that's what I wanted to talk to you about?"
"Hello? Dad, I've known you all my life. I'm sorry I made you snap and call Fran our mother. I know you're upset with me. I just wanted you to make a move before Doug takes Fran away."
Maxwell smiled and patted Brighton on the leg. "First of all son, I'm not upset with you. I'm upset with myself at losing my temper and blurting that out. Second, you and Margaret have either been talking or sharing the same thoughts about Fran so I will tell you the same thing I told her. I appreciate your concern but it's completely unfounded. I have everything under control."
Brighton returned his father's smile. "Really?"
"Really. Trust me Brighton, Fran will be with us forever."
He rose from the bed and walked toward the door. Twisting the doorknob, Maxwell stopped just before he pulled the door open.
"Brighton?"
"Yeah dad?"
"You pull another stunt like you did today in the limo again and you're grounded. Do you understand?"
"Yes dad."
Maxwell checked his watch. "It's almost time for bed. Good night Brighton."
Fran popped a piece of Godiva in her mouth as she thumbed through the December issue of Cosmo. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure, letting the rich chocolate melt on her tongue.
Just as she started reading the Bedside Astrologer, the doorbell rang. Brushing the remnants of the candy from her fingers, she laid the magazine face down and headed for the door.
"I'll get it!"
When she opened the door, Doug stepped inside. With a wide grin, he lifted her by the waist and twirled Fran in his arms.
"Fran! I've missed you!"
"Doug! When did you get back?"
"I got in late last night." He set her down then stepped back to look at her. Shaking his head, Doug smiled. "You look absolutely fabulous. What are you doing now?"
"Right now?"
"Yes, right now."
Before she could respond, Maxwell entered the living room absently flipping through the pages of his notepad. Pushing the wire frames off the end of his nose, he spoke unaware that he and Fran weren't alone.
"Who was at the door Ms. Fine?" He looked up to see Doug standing beside Fran. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."
His eyes traveled to where Doug's arm lingered at her waist. He pinched the inside of his jaw to suppress his smile when Fran slipped out of his embrace to introduce them.
"Mr. Sheffield, this is my friend Doug Abrams. Doug, this is my boss Maxwell Sheffield."
"How do you do Mr. Abrams?" Maxwell said extending his hand.
Meeting his hand in a firm shake, Doug replied, "I'm well thank you. Please, call me Doug."
"Only if you return the courtesy and call me Maxwell."
"Maxwell, I hope you don't mind but I'd like to borrow Fran for a few hours. I've been out of town on business and I want to catch up."
Fran stepped toward Maxwell. Laying her hand gently on his arm, she held his eyes when she spoke to him.
"You don't mind do you Mr. Sheffield? I'll only be gone for a few hours."
A light smile crossed Maxwell's face. Patting her arm, it took all his resolve not to lean over and kiss her cheek.
"Go right ahead Ms. Fine. I'm sure you and Doug have a lot to catch up on. I'll see you this evening."
"Thanks Mr. Sheffield."
"It was a pleasure to meet you Doug."
"Likewise Maxwell."
Tapping the edge of the notepad, Maxwell headed for the stairs. When he reached the top, he cast a final glance at the couple below then continued to his room.
"So where did you want to go?" Fran asked as they stepped out into the brisk December afternoon.
"I don't know. Let's walk for a while. See if anything grabs us."
"I hope nothing grabs us."
Doug gave Fran a crooked smile. "Nothing or no one?"
"Both actually."
"I'm sure for the right person, you wouldn't mind if he grabbed you."
With a quick wink she replied, "I wouldn't complain!"
"Come on," Doug chuckled. Slipping his arm around her waist, he drew her body into his. "I'll take you to lunch."
The delicatessen was unusually crowded for two thirty in the afternoon. Easing her way through the late lunch crowd, Fran found a table near the back of the restaurant while Doug placed their lunch order.
Her eyes panned the eatery; the room overflowed with the uneven buzz of multiple conversations. Fran's attention shifted, watching Doug carry their tray above his head. When he finally reached her, he gingerly set their lunch on the table.
"I guess I should have realized that this place would be crowded."
"Normally the crowd would have thinned out by now."
"A lot of late lunches I suppose." Setting her lunch in front of her, Doug said, "I can't believe I couldn't tempt you with more than potato pancakes."
"What could be better for a late lunch than latkes, sour cream and apple sauce?"
"A nice plate of chicken parmigiana?" Twirling his fork in the spaghetti, Doug asked, "So did you miss me?"
"Of course I missed you. When we came home, Niles told me you called."
"We?"
"Yeah. Mr. Sheffield took me to the mall since neither one of us had done any Christmas shopping." Fran popped a slice of pancake into her mouth. "That is so good. Even without the sour cream."
"And with?"
"Well of course it's better with it. But eating it plain is the sign of a really good latke."
"So, what else have you done while I was away?"
Cutting another slice, Fran smeared a dollop of sour cream on the pancake and took another bite.
"Gracie wanted to go to The Met because they had this Egyptian art exhibit. Some of the pieces in there were just amazing! Mr. Sheffield told me about the pharaohs and their wives and the different dynasties in Egyptian history.
We were discussing the different art pieces and the impact of Egyptian rulers on the world. Usually I'm bored with these outings but he made everything so fascinating! Mr. Sheffield knows quite a bit of Egypt's history.
Then we went to The Tavern on the Green for lunch. Of course, I heard about it before but who hasn't? I mean people outside of New York know about the infamous restaurant. And lunch? Lunch was just fabulous! I don't know what I enjoyed more, the crab cakes or the chocolate mousse cake. After lunch, we went to Rockefeller Center.
The Christmas decorations are just gorgeous. Of course, Maggie went because she was meeting her boyfriend Greg which didn't sit well with Mr. Sheffield. But once I got him to calm down, everything was okay."
Fran lowered her eyes, a slight blush creeping across her face. When she looked up, she met Doug's curious gaze.
"I'm sorry. I have a tendency to ramble sometimes."
"No, I enjoy hearing about your day."
"So tell me all about your trip."
Setting set the fork on the edge of his plate Doug took a quick swig of black cherry soda before answering her.
"I was surprised when the head of distribution called and asked me to fly out to Houston for a meeting. This is such a huge opportunity for Eric and me. We've been working on this software program for years and to finally have an opportunity to market and distribute it – I had to jump at the chance."
"So are they going to buy your program?"
"Eric and I will probably have to fly back in about a week or so to finalize the details but yes, they are going to buy our program."
"Oh Doug that's wonderful news! Pretty soon you're going to be rolling in money."
"That'll be great but what would be even better is to have someone to share it with." His eyes dropped briefly then rose back to her. "Fran, have you thought about us?"
Fran rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Doug, – "
"Honestly Fran, I'm not trying to pressure you. It's just that I look at you and I think about us and I know we'd be good together."
"There's a lot you don't understand. A lot you don't know about me and Mr. Sheffield."
"Fran, how can you build a relationship when you don't even call each other by your first names?"
"I told you it was complicated."
"Love should never be complicated."
"Ha! What world are you living in?"
"Granted that was a stupid thing to say," Doug said reaching for her hand. "What I mean is love shouldn't be so convoluted that you travel the journey alone."
Fran pulled her hand away from his and stared at him with wide transfixed eyes.
"Are you saying you're in love with me?"
"Well, maybe not in love with but I do care for you a great deal. And if our relationship is allowed to flourish, I'm sure it will lead to love." When she hesitated, Doug continued. "We're already great friends. Let's build upon that. We could have a wonderful life together if you're heart is willing to accept it."
"Doug, you don't know what you're asking me."
"The only thing I'm asking you to do is not close yourself off from everyone while you're pining away for a man that's too reticent to admit how he feels about you."
"You don't understand anything about Mr. Sheffield or his situation. First, he is my boss and we do have a professional relationship. He's a very honorable man with certain codes and ethics. He would never do anything that he felt was wrong or unprofessional.
Second, it wasn't easy for him after his wife died. He buried himself completely in work and pulled away from his kids. He hired a string of nannies that couldn't or wouldn't connect with the kids – at least until I came along.
The family has changed since I've known them. The kids aren't as withdrawn as when I first started working there and he's become more open with his feelings. He's not the same man that I first met five years ago, and I like to think that because of my friendship, devotion, and – "
"Love?"
Fran paused. She hated when people put words in her mouth, even if the words were accurate. Leaning back in her chair, she folded her hands on the table.
"Yes. Because of my friendship, devotion, and love, he's become the caring, nurturing, and loving father that he once was."
"That maybe true and he maybe grateful to you for returning his family to him but that still doesn't change the fact that he doesn't love you the way that you deserve."
The weight of his words fell solidly between them. Pushing away from the table, Fran rose from the chair and slipped into her coat.
"What do I owe you for lunch?"
"You don't owe me anything for lunch."
Doug stood and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. He watched her walk silently pass him then followed her out of the restaurant. They stood outside, bracing themselves against the windy afternoon.
"I'll walk you home."
"If it's okay with you Doug, I'd rather walk by myself."
"Fran, I'm not going to let you walk home by yourself. I don't care how angry you are with me."
"Suit yourself."
They walked side by side as if they were two strangers that happened to be heading in the same direction. When they reached the mansion, Doug took the keys from her and opened the door.
"Thank you for lunch."
"You're welcome. I'm sorry Fran. I didn't mean to upset or anger you. That's the last thing I want to do. You're my friend and I care a great deal about you. I don't want to lose our friendship."
"I don't want to lose our friendship either," Fran replied, "but you crossed a line earlier."
Doug reached out and traced small circles on her cheek. "You're right. There are a lot of things about your relationship with Maxwell that I don't know or understand." He handed the keys back to her. "I'd better get going. I'm sure mother hen is worried about where I am."
Fran was about to ask what he meant then suddenly she realized to whom Doug was referring. A smile appeared on her face for the first time since they had lunch.
"That's what big brothers are for."
"That and to be complete pains in the tuchas."
Her laughter was infectious. Doug was unable to contain his own amusement. Their shared merriment began to ebb and once again, silence resided between them.
"Are we okay?" he asked staring into her eyes. "I mean are we really okay?"
Fran nodded. "We're just fine. Thanks again for lunch."
"You're more than welcome. I'll talk to you later after Eric settles down."
"Okay."
Accepting a light kiss on her cheek, Fran watched Doug wander down the street until he disappeared from her sight.
Maxwell tried not to be obvious as he watched Fran finish the last of her Belgian waffle. When she licked the syrup from her lips, the forbidden image of him licking the sticky liquid from her skin popped into his mind.
Curling his fingers in his palm, Maxwell clenched his fist until the thought of tasting her vanished. Folding the newspaper in half, he dropped it next to the empty plate and rose from the chair.
"I have some errands to run so I will see you all later."
"Bye daddy," Grace and Maggie replied.
Finishing his toast, Brighton mumbled, "Bye dad."
"Brighton," Fran said stirring cream into her coffee, "don't talk with your mouth full. See you later Mr. Sheffield."
Niles waited until he heard the front door close before reentering the dining room. He said a silent thank you, grateful that Maggie, Brighton, and Grace had gone about their day and left Fran alone. Starting where Maxwell sat, he gathered the breakfast dishes, stopping when he reached Fran.
"Ms. Fine, a courier stopped by during breakfast and dropped off a box for you. I took the liberty of taking the box and placing it in your room."
"Thanks Niles."
Finishing the last of her coffee, Fran dropped her napkin on the table and left the dining room. When she entered her bedroom, she saw a huge box wrapped in reddish orange paper sitting in the middle of her bed with a card beneath the ribbon.
Fran slid the envelope from underneath the bow and tossed it on the bed. Pulling the ribbon from the package, she peeled the paper from the box. Nestled inside the package laid a wicker basket filled with perfume, lotion, shower gel, and a mesh body sponge.
She broke open the cellophane wrapping. Fran examined each bottle, noting the three clear labels placed on the front of each item.
I knew there was something I forgot to do! I forgot to thank Doug yesterday for the wonderful gifts he's sent me.
Pulling the top off the perfume, Fran misted the air and sniffed the exotic cologne. A wide smile crossed her face as she plucked the note from the crisp brown envelope. Her eyebrow arched in curiosity.
What an odd way to address a note.
Nefertiti,
The thought of your absence leaves me lost in a desert of doubt. My queen of Queens, I cannot bear another day without you at my side. Accept this gift as a token of my gratitude and unending devotion.
Akhenaton
Fran chuckled, shaking her head in amusement.
Doug remembered me talking endlessly about our trip to The Met. That's so sweet of him to send me a gift. I only told him about our trip to the museum the other day.
Her laughter froze as the realization of her thoughts settled over her.
Wait a minute. I told him about the trip but I never mentioned anything specific.
She went to her closet and dug out her purse from the other day. "Where is that damn thing?"
Fran flipped frantically through the brochure until she found what she was looking for. Her mind reeled as Maxwell's voice rang clear in her mind.
It can't be!
Opening her nightstand, she pulled out the other notes she received and reread them with a new clarity.
Resume wasn't misspelled; it was intentionally spelled that way because I gave him my résumé in lipstick.
She opened the second envelope and scanned the message written on the card.
Black pearls? That's right! I lost Elizabeth Taylor's black pearl necklace in the back of that taxi. Why is Mr. Sheffield sending me anonymous gifts and notes? What the hell is he up to?
When she picked up the third note, Fran noticed an arrow in the lower right hand corner. Turning the card over, she found another note written across the back.
Meet me on the Staten Island Ferry at 3pm.
Could it be? Is this his way of telling me that he's ready for a relationship?
Fran plopped on the bed, her mind reeling at the meaning behind the presents he sent.
I can't believe this is happening. That sweet, adorable, slightly repressed man wants to be with me!
She turned her head to look at the clock on her nightstand.
He wants me to meet him at three? What am I going to wear?
Fran slid off the bed and made her way over to the closet. Her fingers skimmed through her racks of clothes, with no semblance of an idea jumping out at her. She sighed and leaned against the frame.
I've got nothing to wear! Everything in this damn closet screams 'come take me!' Although it's been five years and I'm so ready for that to happen but that's not the look I want today.
She went through her closet again, this time more thorough than before. Sliding the hangers across the metal pole, Fran pulled out a burgundy turtleneck sweater and hung it on the door. She continued searching through her clothes until she found her black and white wool houndstooth skirt.
Pulling the sweater from the top of the door, Fran walked over to the mirror and held the outfit up to her body.
"Not bad," she said smiling at her reflection.
Fran finished laying out the rest of her clothes then took a long leisurely bath before she started getting ready to meet Maxwell. As she watched her reflection apply foundation, an unsettling thought crossed her mind.
What if I'm reading too much into this? Suppose he's just sending me small tokens of his appreciation for taking care of the kids?
No, that's just silly! He would be open about it if he were just showing his gratitude. But if I'm right and he is taking steps toward a future with the two of us together, then why send the gifts anonymously?
Her jovial mood altered, melding slowly into anger. The longer she thought about the situation, the angrier she became.
He probably thinks that he's just being a kind employer. That I shouldn't read too much into what he's done because it's just a gesture of friendship.
Fran stared at her partially made up face; a tsunami of anger engulfed her.
Every since Paris, he's played this silly game. He loves me then takes it back. He wants me then rebuffs me. And at every turn I've forgiven him because I felt that in time, he'd come to terms with his feelings for me.
Before she could stop them, tears formed in her eyes, their wet tracks streaking across her face. Instead of giving into her misery, Fran channeled her sadness into anger.
I am not going to shed another tear over that man. I've spent the last year and a half doing just that!
Plucking several tissues from the box on her vanity, she wiped her tear stained face with a dark determination. Tightening her robe, Fran left her room and headed downstairs.
When Niles wandered into the living room, he was surprised to see Fran curled up on the loveseat nursing a snifter of brandy. He rarely saw her drink anything alcoholic. It took a moment for his mind to process the scene before him.
"How long have you known Niles?"
"Known what Ms. Fine?"
"How long have you known about the gifts? About him toying with me emotionally?"
"Are you drunk?"
Fran scoffed. "Hardly." She looked up to meet the concerned eyes of her best friend. "Honestly Niles, I'm not drunk. I've barely touched this drink. But you did know didn't you?"
Niles sighed then sat on the edge of the coffee table.
"I found out after you received the first gift."
"How?"
"I realized that resume was intentionally spelled résumé. When I put that together with lipstick, I remembered that's how you presented your references to Mr. Sheffield."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"He swore me to secrecy. When he threatened to fire me, it wasn't like the other times. I knew he was serious."
"Why did he feel the need to play this game with me Niles? Why couldn't he just tell me straight out how he felt?"
"I honestly don't know. Are you going to confront him?"
"He wants me to meet him at three o'clock on the Staten Island Ferry. I have a good mind not to go."
"Please reconsider Ms. Fine. He seems to be ready to make a commitment. At least hear what he has to say."
Fran set the snifter on the table and rose from the love seat. His eyes trailed her movements as she made her way toward the stairs.
"Ms. Fine?" She paused halfway up the stairs and looked at Niles. "Do you forgive me for not telling you before?"
"Of course Niles. You're my friend and I'll always love you."
"Surely you know Mr. Sheffield loves you too. He's just taken an unique way of expressing it."
"I'll say."
"Look at things from his point of view. He chose to give you items that have a significant meaning to the two of you."
"But what does it mean?"
"That he's ready to spend his life with you." Fran shrugged her shoulders. "What does your heart say?"
"My heart is just as confused as my head. I just don't know what to think anymore."
"You need to settle things between you and Mr. Sheffield. To clear the air so you both know that you're going in the same direction."
"And what direction is that Niles?"
"Forward, I believe Ms. Fine."
A sad smile crossed her face. Looking down at Niles, she simply asked, "Is it?" then continued upstairs.
It was easy for Fran to hide from Maxwell. Much easier than she thought. With literally thousands of people riding the ferry, blending into the masses was not a problem.
Fran watched Maxwell thread his way through the crowd, protecting a bouquet of blush roses. She knew he was searching the throngs of people for any sign of her. Ordinarily she would have jumped at the chance to be in his arms but this time she wasn't quite ready to do that.
Maxwell checked his watch again. Sinking against the rail, the gnawing nagging feeling of Fran being out of reach wouldn't leave him.
Suppose she called Mr. Abrams and they're out celebrating? He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. No. He would never do that. He is an honorable man.
Several quick taps on the shoulder interrupted his musings. Maxwell threw a quick glance over his shoulder then turned around fully when his mind registered who was behind him. He pulled her into his arms and placed a light kiss on her cheek.
"I didn't think you made it. I was starting to get worried."
Fran arched her eyebrow. "Were you Mr. Sheffield?"
"Of course I was Ms. Fine." Maxwell glanced down at the flowers in his hand. "Where are my manners?" Presenting her with the bouquet, he said, "These are for you."
Fran hesitated then reluctantly took the flowers. As she held the bouquet in her arms, tears began to form in her eyes.
Maxwell pulled her toward him and cradled her in his arms. He cooed softly in her ear, ecstatic to comfort her under the deluge of what he thought were overwhelming emotions. As he tightened his embrace, Maxwell felt Fran break free of his arms.
Damn it, that's the last thing I wanted to do, she thought wiping tears from her eyes.
"Why?"
The question was so soft that he barely heard what she uttered.
"I'm sorry? What did you say Ms. Fine?"
She looked at him, her eyes swollen and puffy.
"I asked why. Why couldn't you be straightforward and tell me how you felt? Why did you feel it was necessary to play these stupid games in our relationship? What exactly is our relationship Mr. Sheffield? Boss-nanny? Friends? Or were you hoping that sending me these notes and gifts there'd be something more?"
The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Maxwell opened his mouth to reply but Fran cut him off.
"What is with you? Is this your idea of romance? You tell me you love me because you thought we were dying only to take it back when we reached safety. You insisted that we be nothing but friends and yet when I tried to move on with my life, you found a way to sabotage my dates with your possessive behavior."
Maxwell knew he hurt her by retracting his feelings but Fran's accusations threw him off. Before he could stop it, the wrong words fell from his mouth.
"I didn't need to ruin your dates! All of your relationships ended disastrously anyway!"
"And just what is that suppose to mean?"
"You went looking for something, for someone unnecessarily. All you had to do was open your eyes. It was right in front of you all along!"
"And how was I to know that Mr. Sheffield? You never said anything and every time I went out, you were consumed with jealousy! It's a wonder I was able to have any kind of relationship at all!"
"And every time you went on those dates, and they failed miserably, who was always there to comfort you? Who was always there to provide a shoulder for you to cry on, to listen to your problems? Me! You always turned to me!"
"So I was supposed to sit idly by and wait until you were ready for a relationship? Let me tell you something Maxwell Sheffield, you may want to stick your head in the sand and ignore what your heart is telling you but I can't live that way. I'm willing to put my heart at risk. I've never been secretive about what I want."
Maxwell folded his arms across his chest. "And pray tell, what is that Ms. Fine? What do you want?"
Fran took a step toward him. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him for a moment then spoke to him in measured tones.
"I want what everyone wants: a commitment. Someone to share my life. Someone who is willing to love me openly, honestly, and fully. Someone who can admit when they're wrong and isn't smug about being right.
Someone to support me, to encourage me, and is willing to defend me. Someone I can depend on and trust. Someone who is willing to be my husband, my lover, and my friend. And if I have to continue looking until I find it, then so be it."
Seeing the hurt and anger reflected in her eyes softened Maxwell's demeanor. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull Fran in his arms and reassure her that he was willing to be all of that to her and more but he wasn't sure of her reaction.
Fran looked around and realized that not only had the attention of the ferry passengers centered on her and Maxwell but the ferry itself had docked.
He absently took the roses she pushed back into his arms. Glancing down at the flowers, his mind reeled at the possibility that he may have blown his chance with her forever.
She turned away from him then stopped. Bracing herself against the glare of the crowd, her eyes flickered over him one last time.
"I don't think that's too much to ask, do you Mr. Sheffield?"