I apologize for the delay--this is a highly pivitol chapter and I had several option of where to go with it so I've spent the better part of a month figuring out the most entertaining avenue. I hope you enjoy!
Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Too little, too late
Story by Miko1725--I do not claim to own any of the characters or original storylines from the show. Thank you, and happy reading!
"Yes, I'm certain Ms. Babcock. Mr. Sheffield forgot the file at the theatre and it is imperative that you retrieve it before the dinner—he'll make do until you arrive at the restaurant."
"Come on Niles! She'll never buy it if one of us calls."
"I understand that Miss Margaret, but do you understand the position you are putting me in: I won't be grounded if this all goes to pot—I'll be put IN the ground because your father will personally kill me!"
"No, he didn't indicate where exactly it would be, but you have his scent; it should be easy for an old dog like you."
"You don't have to worry about that—we just gave you the message, right? You are just delivering it. Technically, you are an innocent pawn."
"Actually, Master Brighton, I feel as though I'm more of a knight: bravely jumping around the board to protect the kingdom I serve, but easily sacrificed for the good of the King and Queen."
"Come on Niles: C.C. will be devastated if we succeed in getting Fran and Dad together!"
"Well… that's true... oh what the heck; I won't be that much further in than I already am! Give me the phone."
"Very good Ms. Babcock, I will inform Mr. Sheffield that you are on the way to the theatre. I will meet you there in an hour. Good-bye."
A sigh of relief escaped from the butler's lips as he all but fainted on the living room couch. Hopefully this wild goose chase would keep C.C. busy for quite some time. The downside: he had to meet her there with Maxwell's keys to open the doors… and to keep her locked away for a few hours. "I don't get paid enough for this sort of thing," he muttered.
Damn that Murphy's Law! C.C. rushed around frantically gathering the files she'd been reviewing in preparation for this meeting while attempting to slip into her heels simultaneously. It did not go well. She stood and angrily pushed her once neatly styled hair out of her face and roughly smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. Great: now there was a mandatory game of '52 pickup' on her agenda; perfect, just perfect. Flustered, she began gathering the papers.
Reaching for a pile that had landed by the couch, something caught her eye on its neighboring table; it seemed that, in her hurry, she had neglected to notice the blinking red light on her answering machine:
"Ms. Babcock, Sheldon Porter here…"
She turned, feeling eyes on her, but found no one there in the doorway. With a disappointed shrug, Fran turned back to the mirror and released another lock of hair from the once hot curlers letting it fall with a slight bounce among the others. Why was she disappointed; after all, who did she want to be there anyway? She examined her reflection carefully as the last roller fell from her hair. Maybe she would just leave it down tonight. After all, Mr. Sheffield seemed to like it when she wore her hair simple.
Fran scoffed and put the curler on the vanity with a thud. Here she was getting all farpitzs for this mystery guy that seemed so eager for her company, so why care about what a guy that could so easily cast her aside thought. She went to the closet and hung her robe on the door: perhaps she'd do one more quick turn for the mirror. The last thing she wanted to do was show up with her dress stuck in her pantyhose! She shuddered: been down that road too many times before.
"Ms. Fine," she turned. "Mr. Sheffi—wow."
"What do you think Niles?"
"Yowza!"
"Aw, thanks!" She smoothed the slight crinkles from the skirt and grabbed her purse from the bed. "Didn't you have a message for me Niles? Mr. Sheffield…"
"Oh yes, he's sending me to the theatre to meet Ms. Babcock. It seems an important piece of their proposal got left behind and I have to let her in."
"Uh, you are going to let her out eventually, right Niles?" She cocked her eyebrow, smirking slightly. He returned the look and shrugged mischievously:
"I make no promises."
It was quiet. He hated the quiet: it forced him to think, and right now that was the last thing he wanted to do. He had not been able to think about any of the things he should be thinking about, and what he was thinking about was not at all conducive to what he needed to be thinking about. He paced across the office and stepped out onto the terrace. The air was muggy, but there was a nice breeze to offset it a bit. The stars were spectacular that night: even with all the lights of New York, you could see every constellation. A soft smile crossed his face: there were many nights where he and Sara had sat on this very terrace looking up into the night sky. Funny how it was simple things like that were what stuck with him the most after she had died.
"Mr. Sheffield, are you out here?"
"Ms. Fine…" he paused, "don't you look absolutely ravishing."
"Thank you," she replied. A small smile came over him as he noticed a slight blush on her cheeks. "I just wanted to come out here and wish you luck on your meeting tonight. I know how important it is to you…"
"Well, thank you Ms. Fine. I hope you have a fantastic time on your date. You truly look lovely."
Fran glanced around: "what are you doing out here anyway?"
"Just stargazing; trying to relax a bit. Sara and I used to do this sort of thing to unwind at particularly stressful times." He turned his gaze to her and observed the change in her features: he patted the bench, indicating for her to join him. It was not a lot of time they would have, but it was time just the same: an opportunity to take in the comfort they inexplicably seemed to share with one another. "It's okay, you know. I have gotten to a point where you all don't need to walk on eggshells anymore."
"I know, it just… this sounds really weird, but do you think she'd mind me sitting out here with you?" Maxwell chuckled and shook his head.
"I daresay she'd be happy I have company. I doubt she'd like me sitting alone all the time anyway." He glanced at his wrist watch and stood, offering her a hand: "I believe we should be heading out about now."
Seven o-clock. The time for action was at hand. Brighton's thumbs clicked in rapid succession over the buttons of the Game Boy. Hey, it was important that everything seem normal: Maggie was sitting on the chair near the fireplace, magazine in hand; Gracie was watching television--some educational channel of no interest to him. Now all there was left to do was sit back and watch their carefully devised plan take action--and to hope the night would not end in their being grounded till the year 2049.
"Good night kids," Fran called as she made her way across the living room, "I'll see you guys in the morning."
"Fran, this is so exciting! I can't wait to hear all about this guy."
"Don't worry sweetie, I promise a full report tomorrow at breakfast," she turned to Brighton: "what, no comments before my date tonight 'Ma?' You've yet to give your two cents."
"Hey, your happiness is my happiness," he said mimicking Sylvia. "Go on and have a good time." She looked at him skeptically before going for her coat.
"You're up to something B., but I'll have to figure it out later. G'night everyone!"
A collective sigh of relief flooded the room--one down...
"Okay Niles, you should go meet C.C. at the theatre now. Don't forget: keep her there for a minimum of 2 hours."
"Consider it done Miss Grace." He reached into the coat closet--
"MAXWELL!" The door swung open, planting Niles on the floor. "Molly, Gretchen, Brad, has your father left yet?"
"C.C., what the devil are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me at the restaurant."
"Well I was about to head to the theatre to pick up that file you forgot when I realized I had a message on my machine: it was Sheldon apologizing for having cancelled tonight's meeting. He was trying to reschedule."
"What are you talking about: what file?"
"The file Niles told me you forgot at the theatre. He said you needed me to get it and bring it to the restaurant."
Maxwell turned and noticed the other four occupants of the room slowly sneaking away:
"Not so fast." They stopped and cringed:
"Anyone care to explain what is going on here?"