This story is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of Fran
Dresher, Peter Mark Jacobson, Sony Television, Harpo Productions or
anyone else owning rights to "The Nanny" or "The Oprah Winfrey
Show". I'm only borrowing characters, and I'm poor as a church
mouse, so sueing me will due no good.
Authress' Note: I wrote this thing ten years ago, so be kind. I just found it on a website, and decided to repost it. I got the idea after seeing 'Pen Pals'. Also, be warned that this story may seem unfinished, it is. I remember, when I first published, people kept emailing me, asking for an ending, but the ending is the ending. Not everything in life finishes neatly, and this happens here. No happy endings for C.C. in this one, and only small consolation for everyone else.
Hidden Truth
by Arianwen P.F. Everett
C.C. Babcock looked in the mirror for the upteenth time and
sighed. She had to reapply her lipstick now that she'd finally found the right outfit and done her hair in a French braid.
Not for the first time today, she began wondering why she'd agreed
to this in the first place, but she didn't have to dig too deep for the
answer. She was doing this for Oprah and for her company. And
while she was being completely honest, it was an ego boost, even if at
this moment, she was nervous.
Oprah had been her friend for years, and she understood the
pressures of being a woman in the man's world of the entertainment
industry. It sometimes seemed to C.C. like she had given her life over
to Maxwell and the company, and for all intents and purposes, she
had. Her career was her life now, had been for many years, and it was
rewarding in so many ways, most importantly in that it kept her with
the man she loved. This was her passage way into his life, a way and a
reason to have both a career and a relationship. She had it all, or so
she tried to reassure herself, as she had done everyday for so long. She had a perfect life, no regrets, save the one that had torn at her soul for the past sixteen years. That road had closed, and even though she knew it had been the right decision, the only choice possible, her mind and body always seemed to make sure that she never, for a moment,
forgot what she'd done, never was able to wholeheartedly move on,
never truly had it all.
'Enough!' she chastised herself. She was sick of this torment, and she refused to indulge it, particularly now, five minutes to air.
Gracie Sheffield stuffed her ten year old hand deep into the bowl of popcorn, only to realize that she had to drop some to get it out again. As with most girls her age, her eyes were bigger than her stomach, and evidently, her hand as well. Her father smiled and patted her affectionately on the head, as she snuggled deeper into his side.
Stuffed between her dad and her beloved nanny, Fran, watching TV,
Gracie was as contented as a clam.
Maggie, on the other hand and on the other side of her father, was
not so at ease. "Do we really have to watch this? I mean, I've got
homework and stuff," she whined as only a teenager can.
"Yes, yes, we do. I promised C.C. that we'd all watch. To tell the truth, I've recently had to break a few promises to Miss Babcock, so I definitely intend to keep this one," Maxwell explained.
"So we all have to suffer?" Maggie asked, petulantly.
"Of course. Honey, that's what family is all about," Fran said,
sipping her diet coke.
"But we're not Jewish," Maggie reminded Fran.
"Oh right, scratch that," Fran apologized.
"Look, if you want, you can leave right after Miss Babcock's part is over," Maxwell offered. He knew his kids weren't crazy about his
business associate, but he knew that, in her own peripheral way, C.C.
cared for them. She didn't really deserve the bitch reputation Niles
had constructed for her over the years, but she wasn't a very warm
person either. She was very...distant, yet complex and strong.
Maxwell wished his family could appreciate that aspect of her.
Perhaps this show would help.
Finally the commercials ended, and Oprah's opening sequence began,
just as Niles raced into the room. He'd had Miss Fine's Grama Yetta
cast a spell on Miss Babcock to make her totally humiliate herself on
TV. It had cost him his delicious, but time consuming, chocolate layer
cake, but Niles had gladly made the effort. He hit the record button on the VCR, and stood behind the family to watch.
The stage manager began his countdown, and Oprah Winfrey took
a deep breath to steady herself. She was nervous. She knew she
needed a boost in ratings, but she also knew C.C. Babcock. Damn, she
wished she'd never received that letter!
She also wished, she hadn't been so spineless as to let her people
talk her into this. She owned this show, and the whole production
company as well; She was the most powerful woman in the industry,
for crying out loud, and still she had allowed herself to be cajoled
into this show, into this ambush. She wished she was anywhere but
here. Her stage manager gave her the signal, and all these wishings
fell away, as she slipped into talk show host mode, the only way she
could do this.
The audience applauded as the music rose up above the crowd, and
OPRAH bowed to them. She then turned around to look directly
into the camera
OPRAH
Today's show is very special to me, not only
because it will be the last show we'll be
taping here, at The Sulivan Theater, in New
York City...
Oprah pauses for the locals to roar.
OPRAH
But because of our very special topic for
today. Over the years, the shows that I would
consider, my best, the ones that keep me in
this industry, which has been cheapened in
recent years, are my reunion specials. I have
received literally thousands of letters from
all over the globe from people looking for
loved ones they've lost contact with or
sometimes, have never even met, but need to
meet. This is one of those specials.
The audience applauds, and Oprah clears her throat.
OPRAH
Today's guests, searching for their relatives,
are all from this fair city, and are here to
be reunited with their loved ones, back stage,
as per their request, in the heartfelt letters
they all wrote me. So, let me bring out my
guest, she's here to meet the mother that gave
her up s...
Niles chuckled as Maxwell shook his head.
"Poor C.C., she was so excited about being on today's show!"
Maxwell said, truly sorry for his business partner. He grabbed the
remote and pressed the mute button.
"Well, maybe they'll tape her show, and run it in a few weeks like
they usually do. I mean, this week is all live shows, but most weeks
aren't," Fran tried to rationalize. She hoped Miss Babcock got her TV
appearance, she wasn't really such an awful person, just stuck up.
"Can we go now?" Maggie asked, hoping for a better response this
time.
"Sure Sweetheart, since it seems Miss Babcock will not be on
today," Maxwell sighed.
"Thanks dad!" Maggie and Brighton piped up, with Maggie giving
her father a quick peck on the cheek, before running upstairs, her
brother heading for the kitchen.
Both Fran and Gracie stayed where they were, willing to watch
Oprah anyway. Maxwell considered leaving but decided against it.
He usually wasn't one for talk shows, but he rarely got time to just
spend with his kids, or with Fran for that matter, watching TV, nothing
urgent tugging his brain away towards business or trouble. He was
contented, and he would indulge himself, at least for a few minutes.
Niles had already left the room, sighing. C.C. wasn't to be
humiliated on national television today. Well, as his father always
said, 'you want something done right, you must do it yourself', Niles
thought, as he strolled into the kitchen after Master Brighton.
Fran took back the remote, and returned the sound to the television
set.
As her guest walked out onto the stage and sat down, Oprah was
transfixed. She had her mother's eyes, and they held Oprah hostage.
She knew her stage manager's ulcer was probably going peptic right
this second, but she couldn't move.
"I want to thank you for bringing me on the show," the teenager
stated hesitantly.
Her words broke the trance, like a slap in the face.
OPRAH
Yes, well, Elise, you're very welcome, now
I know you're eager to meet your mother, but
before we bring her out, I think the story
behind how we located her needs to be told
first. This is truly fascinating folks, and
I'd like to introduce to you the man who has
made this reunion possible. He's worked on
several of these reunions, Private Detective
Alan Metter.
The audience applauds as Alan Metter walks out. He is a tall man,
but very, very thin, with blond hair. He wears a gray suit, and strides on stage like a pro, waving to the audience and smiling.
ALAN
Hey Oprah!
OPRAH
It's nice to have you back with us, today.
Now earlier, in a pre-show interview, you
had mentioned that this was quote 'The
hardest missing person's case I've ever
worked on.', how so?
ALAN
Well Oprah, I said that because unlike
all my other cases in the nine years
I've been a private detective, I was
completely stumped at first. This woman,
Elise's biological mother, covered her
tracks pretty well. She used a fake name
on the birth certificate, paid her
hospital bill in cash, and never saw an
obstetrician under the name on the birth
certificate. She'd also been careful not
to draw attention or make herself
memorable in the minds of the staff
members who were working on the
maternity ward at the time of Elise's
birth. To tell you the truth Oprah,
I'm usually able to find a birthmother
of a client given up for adoption
though hospital records, and rarely
have to interview anyone, save
administrators. After three weeks of
searching I had one frail lead, the
name of a visitor to Elise's biological
mother the day after her birth, and when
I tried to find her, I quickly learned
that this visitor had been dead for five
years. Her husband said he'd known
nothing at the time except that his wife
had said she was going to visit a friend
in the hospital. He asked that I keep
their names out of it, if this was
something high profile, and I agreed.
OPRAH
So how did you finally find her?
ALAN
Well, actually it was luck. After my
visit to the husband, I thought I was
through, that I'd finally found an
unsolvable case. Two days later I
received a call from the late woman's
attorney, a Mr. Patrick Cline. He told
me that the husband had called him about
my visit. It seems that the late wife
had suspected that someday Elise might
try to find her mother, and she knew how
impossible that would be. In her will
she left instructions for her attorney
or his firm to deliver this letter (He
takes out an envelope from his breast
pocket.), should Elise or someone
representing her come investigating.
The letter contained Elise's biological
mother's business card, as well as a
letter to Elise. This lady, may she
rest in peace, deserves all the credit.
She was truly remarkable.
The audience applauds.
Maxwell Sheffield was stunned. This man had come to his door,
and had asked about his Sarah, not three weeks ago. He had called his
attorney. He had asked that his and Sarah's name be kept confidential.
This was about his family! It suddenly occurred to him, his heart
skipping a beat in his chest, that his beloved wife had kept this from
him, that she had been party to this young woman's birth, adoption,
and had never told him any of it. He had never kept a blessed thing
from Sarah! She knew every detail about him, from work, to their
friends, to what he had for lunch every day, and she had kept
something from him. The slightly healed wound of her loss was
ripped open suddenly, and he could almost feel his soul bleeding in
pain. Part of him wanted to run and hide. Another part wanted to
scream in emotional agony. But all he could manage was to sit there
and watch with his unsuspecting family. As much as he wanted to get
away from all this, he needed to know everything. He needed it to
trust his Sarah again, even if it rocked his universe to it's very
foundation, which it probably would.
C.C. walked out onto the stage, smiling, rubbing her hands
together, and giving a modest wave to the audience. She was moving
on instinct, adjusting to being on stage, in front of an audience. She
was focused on her chair. Out of nowhere a hug enfolded her.
Brownish-blond hair was in her face, and for a moment, she was
dazed. Finally, as she had to move her head to get that long hair out of her face to breath, the individual released her.
The person, who she now saw was a teenaged girl, handed her a
single red rose surrounded by baby's breath in a clear wrapping, while
a few tears streamed down her smiling face. What was going on here?
She turned to look at Oprah, and saw her eyes and head lower in a
gesture that she knew meant 'sit down'. This being her only
connection to reality, she slowly did so, as all her mind could do was
chase itself. Finally she got her voice back. "Oprah, what's going on
here?" she asked calmly. Now was not the time to panic, she was sure
there was an explanation, and panicking would only make her and her
company look bad.
"C.C. I know I told you this was a show on women in Broadway,
but I knew I knew you wouldn't come if you knew the truth," Oprah
explained, a slight, almost undetectable tremor in her voice. She
quickly went on "This, C.C., is Elise, and I think she has some..."
That was all C.C. Babcock heard, as her brain chose this moment to
jump-start itself, doing 60 in a 55 mph zone. She quickly looked at the girl across from her, her own eyes reflected back at her, her own nose too, and the rest of her features, she instantly recognized. 'OH MY GOD!', was all she could think before jumping to her feet, and
staring daggers at her former friend, Oprah Winfrey. "What did you
do Oprah! I want an answer NOW! WHAT IS THIS!" C.C. bellowed, nearly busting the lavaliere on her collar.
Elise unwisely chose this moment to speak. "Mother..."
"DON'T call me that!" C.C. commanded, trying to lower her voice
at this innocent kid. Oprah was her enemy!
"C.C.," Oprah tried to plead.
"SHUT UP YOU!" C.C. snarled. She took a deep breath, and
everything seemed to hurt at once. She turned her attention back to
the shell shocked girl. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, Miss...
Elise, but you've wasted your time. I may have bore you, but I gave
you up fifteen years ago, and that meant forever in my book! Moving
on with my life then had been hard, but I survived, and I'm not going
to reopen wounds here! I Can't! I CAN'T DO THIS!" she squeaked, as
her voice was washed away by her own tears. She took a breath,
then one final look at Elise, and quickly walked off the stage, throwing the rose in Oprah's face as she tried to corral her back.
For once her audience was silent, as Elise began to cry in pain. A woman ran on stage, pushing Oprah away, as she had turned back to
comfort the girl. Elise sobbed into the curly brown hair of the woman
who held her, barely able to breath through her tears and runny nose
"Oh God! Mom!" she cried, as the woman held her tightly, and Oprah
felt like hanging herself.
Fran and Maxwell paced back and forth, crossing each other again
and again. They were waiting for C.C. to return, each ready to
pounce. Uncannily Niles had left, after having caught most of C.C.'s
tirade while coming back through the living room. He hadn't stayed to
chide her about it when she got back. He had looked stricken, when
he'd left, and Fran and Maxwell chalked it up to pure shock. After all, despite their feuding, he knew C.C. better than anyone. Apparently he couldn't handle being so kept in the dark.
Suddenly the door clicked, the knob turning. C.C. tried to open the door a peep, just to look inside, when Maxwell grabbed the knob,
jerking it open and his business partner inside.
C.C. suddenly lost the composure she'd been trying to gather on her
way back. "Uh, ah, Maxwell, Nanny Fine..." she stuttered.
"C.C. how could you do this!" Maxwell scolded.
"Yeah, that little girl was heartbroken! How could you be so cold?
She wanted to meet her mother!" Fran whined in anger.
"Not that, how could you have kept this from me? I thought we
were friends! Oh, tuberculosis, how could I have been so stupid?
How could you have lied to me? You know I wouldn't have fired you!
You were already part of the family! And Sarah, how could you tell
Sarah and not me? How could you get her involved in all this deceit?"
Maxwell accused.
Fran was shocked. "What about Elise? She's probably emotionally
scared for life!" Fran asked, directing the question mostly at Maxwell,
whom she thought was being self absorbed and insensitive.
"Listen, I made damn sure that the family that got her was fit! I
couldn't be her mother! As for Sarah, I didn't tell her! She figured it out! She'd just had a baby, and she was a woman! I tried to deny it, but she obviously hadn't bought it! She promised me she'd never tell anyone! Then she goes and does that! I trusted her!" C.C. defended, putting her hand over her mouth, attempting not to start crying as she'd done on the show.
"But why did you lie to me, telling me you were taking medical
leave, due to your contracting tuberculosis? Why didn't you stay with
us until you had the baby? Why did you run away and never tell us!"
Maxwell asked, the hurt evident in his voice.
"Look, I didn't want anyone to know! I feared the bad press I'd bring upon the company. This was way before Murphy Brown, you know?
And I didn't want to be coddled! It was my mistake, and my
responsibility to take care of," C.C. stated firmly, with finality. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do, and I don't want to discuss this anymore. It was my choice, and I did what I thought best!" C.C. said, pushing past Maxwell, and quickly making her way to the office.
Fran and Maxwell did their best to calm down.
Niles tried desperately to get his key in the keyhole, failing with
each attempt. He was sloshed, and with good reason. He was angrier
than he'd ever been, and he began to bang furiously on the door until
Maxwell himself answered it.
"Niles, what the bloody hell were you doing banging like that?
You scared Miss Fine. She thought you were a burglar with a bat, trying to break down the door!" Maxwell scolded.
"Where is she!" he demanded of his boss, pushing his way into
the living room. The minute she saw him, Fran grabbed Gracie by the
shoulders, and quickly high-tailed it upstairs. Niles was floundering
around. "Where is she!" he shouted.
Maxwell was a bit frightened himself. He stiffened his back in his 'I am Lord of the manor posture'. "Niles, have you been drinking?" he asked the obvious.
Niles did not answer. At that moment, C.C. stepped out of the
office, not looking where she was going. Suddenly she was grabbed
by two strong hands, gripping her arms, causing her pain. She cried
out.
"Why!" Niles asked the frightened woman.
At the scream, Fran rushed down the steps, sans the kids.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Niles slurred, shaking C.C. hard.
Still, his grip lessened, and she was able to escape. She rubbed
her sore arms, and fought back tears.
Maxwell grabbed his stumbling butler, and gently pushed him
towards his room.
C.C went to get some water, then came back out of the kitchen,
striding purposefully. She was going to put an end to this horrid day.
She was going to take control back. She went into the office, and
grabbed her briefcase, quickly stuffing it with some work to due at
home. She then walked out, grabbed her coat at the door, and walked
out the front door, taking a breath of fresh air. She was going home!
Maxwell guided his butler into his room, shutting the door behind
the drunk man. He lay him on his small bed, pulling his shoes off of
him. Niles fought this, and kept trying to right himself on the bed,
only to be struck by nausea after the third try. He held back the wave
of dizziness, and took a deep breath once it was over. He was now
terribly tired, and he quickly slipped into unconsciousness.
Maxwell sighed in resignation. Answers would have to wait till
morning, but he would not take pity on Niles tomorrow. He couldn't
understand his actions, and regardless of his motives, Niles could
have scared the kids as he had Miss Fine and C.C., and if he was
truthfully honest, himself.
Now he was off to interrogate Tweedle-dum, about the mess he and
half of America had witnessed on television this afternoon. C.C.
might not be forthcoming with her feelings about her actions sixteen
years ago, but she had an obligation to their company, and it's public
image. He'd call his publicist, Sydney Mercer, or correction, return
her twenty calls to him earlier, and schedule an appointment first thing in the morning. This had to be handled carefully, and the three of them would have a heck of job ahead of them over the next few days.
When he exited Niles' room, he found an anxious Fran waiting for
him. "Is Niles okay? What did he say?" she asked, worried.
"He's fine, just drunk," Maxwell explained, taking off his reading
glasses and wearily rubbing his forehead. Today had been exhausting
so far, and it wasn't over yet. Not to mention tomorrow, when the
media vultures would be hanging around. He was tired. "Where's
Miss Babcock?" he asked, straitening his back and getting back to
business.
"She left, and I don't blame her. If I was in her shoes..." Fran said, shaking her head.
While part of him was angry at his business partner for deserting,
he was too exhausted to make anything of it. He'd call Sydney, and
then he'd leave Miss Fine with the children and go upstairs to take a
nap before supper. With Niles as he was, it looked like pizza tonight.
A lousy supper to finish off a lousy day.
As he leisurely strolled back to his office, Fran walked beside him,
gripping his hand. He was happy for the much needed support. Then
she broke the one moment of serenity, as she leaned her head against
Maxwell's shoulder, and queried "I wonder who Elise's father was?"
Maxwell wanted to cry as his brain began churning again. He didn't
know who the father was, but it gave him something else to think
about, and right now, thinking was the enemy.
The sun had yet to rise over the Sheffield home, when Maxwell,
already dressed and fed, came out of his office to wake Niles up. The
butler had some explaining to do, and then he had breakfast to make
for the kids and Miss Fine. Just because such turmoil was running
though the adults in this house, the kids and for that matter, Miss Fine shouldn't have to suffer. He smiled at the thought of what Fran would say and do if she'd heard him refer to her as not an adult, although, at this juncture, it was a compliment.
Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. 'Damn, they're here
already!' he thought. Now the long day of Fred and Gingering the
press began. Well, at least he was well rested. He'd slept through the entire night, not having even woken for dinner. He'd have to ask Fran what they'd done for food last night. He thanked God for one trivial thing to think about today, for he knew that every other thought would carry the weight of the earth with it, all upon his back.
When he got to the door, he looked through the glass and ornate
bars and almost had a heart attack. There, waiting patiently in the
cold, was the girl from Oprah, Elise, C.C.'s biological daughter. He
checked his watch. It was 5:25 AM. He quickly let her in and fought
the urge to scold her for commuting around New York City at such an
early hour by herself. The sickos were still out, and could be said to
be at their most menacing and dangerous now. Their drunk and drug
saturated bodies were ambling to whatever they considered home, and
a fifteen year old girl was an easy mark for their demented intentions.
Still, as she entered the foyer languidly, he had to admit that she had
her mother's attitude and fearlessness. She had a mission, and by God,
neither heaven, nor hell, nor anything terrestrial should dare stand in
her way. This will was what he admired most about his business
associate, what made her such an asset to the company, that he really
couldn't be mad at her daughter for displaying the same attribute.
Still, he often worried for C.C., and would now have to worry for this
one, over the trouble such a trait could get a person, particularly a
woman, into.
The girl looked at Maxwell. "I'm here to see C.C. Babcock," she
stated, taking off her coat and handing it to Maxwell, as if he was a
servant.
"My associate isn't due for another hour and a half," Maxwell
explained with equal formality.
"Oh, you're Maxwell Sheffield, I'm sorry. I was informed that there were two men residing in this house, the owner, you, and the butler, a Mr. Niles Evenington. Since you answered the door, I thought you were him," the girl explained, her face flushing slightly.
Just then Gracie came bounding down the stairs in her bath robe and
slippers, followed by Fran, dressed identically. Upon seeing Elise at
the entrance, she quickly descended the steps and shook the girl's
hand. "Hi, I'm Fran, the Nanny. I saw you on Oprah, that was a pretty
dress you were wearing. Where'd you get it?" she asked, her inner
warmth radiating from her. She'd seen the girl crying on yesterdays
show, and it had almost broken her heart. If she was one of hers and
Maxwell's...
"I got it at Bergdorf's. My mom wanted me to look nice on TV, so
she took me shopping," Elise explained, her spirits improving. She
liked this woman.
"So, Gracie and I were going to make some cereal and watch
Saturday morning cartoons. Ya want to join us?" Fran asked
cheerfully.
Elise looked at Maxwell, who nodded approval and encouragement.
"I don't see the harm. Miss Babcock won't be here for a while. Help
yourself," he added, as Fran put her arm around Elise with the other
one draped around Gracie, and lead both girls to the kitchen.
"I... I really don't want to impose," Elise said modestly to Fran and Maxwell. These two were nice, so much like her adoptive parents.
She didn't want to trouble them.
"It's no imposition," Gracie said, smiling at Elise.
"Right!" Fran said, squeezing Elise at her side, as they left they
livingroom together.
Maxwell watched them go, smiling. He knew C.C. would blow a
gasket, as she had with Oprah yesterday, but this was his house, and
Elise was welcome here.
Niles awoke with a banging in his head, his mouth tasting like
sandpaper. He let out a small groan, and covering his eyes, slowly
lifted himself out of bed. He looked around his room, letting his eyes
adjust to the light of day. He blinked twice, at his memory of the past afternoon, and tears slowly poured out of his eyes. This seemed to relieve a bit of the pressure in his head, but stabbed at his heart. He felt old and lonely. It was like in one day, all 52 years of life had piled themselves onto him. He just sat there, everything sinking in, and he cried. That was all he could do, just sit and weep.
As the 'Flinstones' ended, the door unlocked itself, and C.C. entered, deftly saying good morning to Fran and... and... oh the little one, not really seeing either of them. She didn't even look in their direction, just strode to the office. She thanked God there hadn't been a confrontation. Perhaps she would survive this day. The door shut behind her, as she scanned the files on Maxwell's desk, and for a
moment she felt better. Maxwell wouldn't push. For once, she was
grateful work was all that was between them. Her mind relaxed.
"I still have questions," a small voice behind her stated.
She whipped around and screamed. Elise stood there, waiting
patiently. Her heart was racing, and fury fought pain ripping her
insides apart. Fury won. "Am I going to have to get a restraining
order against you?" she said, quietly, her voice barely controlled.
Elise look back at her, simply blinking as she stared. C.C. went
cold inside. The eyes were hers, but she saw this girl's father in her
demeanor. The steady look on her face spoke accusatory volumes,
without a word or a movement. After a minute, C.C. realized she
wasn't breathing, and she gasped for air, turning her back. "Go away!"
she said, her fists balling.
"No!" was the answer.
C.C. gave up the ghost. She had tried to remain civil, tried to tell herself, that it was not the kid's fault. Tried to be delicate, fighting her very nature, as not to emotionally damage this person she'd given life to. But there comes a time when ones own need to survive takes precedence over their offspring's, and C.C. had been pushed too far.
"All right, get out! I tried to be fair, but you obviously won't listen to a damn thing you're told, just like your wretched father! Leave me! NOW!" she hissed.
"Who... who was my father, anyway!" Elise continued, standing
her ground despite her fear. She would not be bullied.
C.C. shrieked wildly, like a woman warrior about to attack. "I'm not telling you anything! I gave you up long ago, because I had no place in my life for the likes of you! You mean nothing to me, and I don't waste precious breath on nothing!" C.C. spat defensively.
Elise felt herself lucky to jump out of the way, as C.C. stormed out.
As Elise walked out of Maxwell Sheffield's office, her mind was
regrouping. Okay, her biological mother was a bitch and wouldn't talk
to her. Now what? Perhaps she could find Stuart or Noel Babcock,
C.C.'s father and brother. Perhaps they would talk to her, and maybe
they would know who her dad was too. She didn't care what effect her
going to them had on her biological mother. C.C. had just declared
war, and all was fair in love and war, right?
As she reached the door, a hand gently tapped her shoulder. "Miss,
I mean, Elise, may I speak with you a minute please?" A dark blond
haired man said. She concluded that this must be Niles Evington, the
butler. She didn't have time, however. She wanted to get back to the
hotel before her real mom and dad went frantic. "I'm sorry, but I really must go," Elise said, giving the man a regretful smile. She wondered why everyone here cared who she was.
"Look, please, I need to speak with you. I... I'm your father, only, I never knew until yesterday, and I'm really sorry we've never met before, and I just want to know a little bit about you, please..." Nile sputtered.
Elise felt like she'd just been decked and her eyes went wide with
shock. This couldn't be. Her father was a butler? Her mother was an
heiress with a successful career as a Broadway producer, and her
father was a lowly, older, servant. She wistfully thought of what her
best friend, Kimmy, had said before she'd left her small home in
Jersey. "New York is weird! As the natives say, 'takes all kinds'.
Expect the unexpected,". Elise giggled slightly. "It is a pleasure to
meet you," she finally said, reaching out her hand tentatively to shake
his.
Niles shook her hand, and suddenly felt oddly. He always seemed
to know what to do or to say. He knew everything that was going on
in everyone he cared about's lives, and always had a smug response or
heartfelt thought to give away. Now he no longer was in the know,
and it was almost funny that this confusion should stem from his own
life.
"It's okay. My counselor said we might not know how to talk to each
other. I thought when mom and daddy made it a condition for
searching for my biological family, that I go see that woman, that they
were just over reacting, but maybe Ms. Filarimio was right. This is
difficult. I feel like I have to say something profound, like out of an Oscar winning movie, but I'm too in the situation myself to even think straight, not to mention be cool and smooth. I guess all I can say is that, so far, you seem okay, as a person, not an ax murder or anything," Elise said, letting her train of thought lead her mouth. She blushed slightly, and then straightened herself, to get control of the moment. "So, you're my father, but I really have to ask ya, how in the world could you EVER have fallen for an evil shrew, like that thing that's supposedly my mother? You just seem too nice for her."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't really know how it all happened. I mean, when she first got here, she wasn't really that interesting, she was strikingly beautiful, but she had no real personality, or so I thought. All she did was work and eat. Mrs. Sheffield, who could bring out the best in anyone, God rest her sweet soul, was convinced that her lack of sociability was due to her upbringing. She had been taught that the world was controlled and controllable, and her aspiration was to figure out what made it go and how she could play a part in deciding which direction life took. With Miss Babcock, everything is an equation. She doesn't see us or anyone as anything more than numbers, or pieces on a chess board. Strong emotions, from herself or others, trouble her greatly. In her mind, human feeling, running the world, means utter chaos. Everything must be controlled or else. It's probably what makes her such a whiz at
business, but it doesn't help in actually maintaining human relationships. I'm the opposite. I'm a people person. We never get
along," Niles said, slightly wistful. He sometimes even felt guilty
being so mean to her, but her disrespect for other's feelings upset him, made him respond with insults, which would, in turn, unsettle her, as she sought to control him like she did the practical side of Mr.
Sheffield's Broadway productions. It was an unending cycle, Niles
mused.
He turned back to Elise and the conversation, having lost himself in his own thoughts. "I don't think she really wants to hurt you, she's just frightened of what you represent to her, and she's trying her darndest to push that feeling part of herself away," Niles tried to explain. But really, why was he making excuses for C.C.?
"Can we take this somewhere else, I feel foolish just standing here
in the doorway. It's also freezing!" Elise complained, wrapping her
coat more tightly around her to protect her from the weather, but also
from any forgiveness for C.C. Babcock that might creep into her soul.
She had to take a break from all this. It was all coming at her too fast.
"Okay, there is a coffee shop down the street, I'll buy you breakfast and we'll talk some more, and I promise I'll try not to get too introspective again," Niles offered, bundling up, as Elise began easing her way down the slick steps.
"That sounds great, but I'll just have a coke or something. I think I OD'd on Captain Crunch," Elise said, as she hit the sidewalk, and almost broke into a skip. This trip was finally getting her somewhere.
Together, father and daughter trudged out into the miserable
weather, both feeling a bit better.
