Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Bridge Over Troubled Water

One chapter left in the saga! Sorry for the delay; finally got a job (yay!) and then moved, so yeah… it's been a little hectic. Thanks for you patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next.

The wait seemed insufferable; a passer-by had given her the time and this mystery dream date was now a half hour late. Fran sighed, resolved to having been stood up. It wasn't the first time in recent years, and probably wouldn't be the last, but that didn't soften the blow of this particular situation. The note had been so promising; he'd seemed so genuinely interested and poor little Frannie couldn't come up with a single thing she'd done recently that would have offended her secret admirer. What was worse what that the house was all a twitter about her big date tonight and there would be no peace the following morning.

"Why can't I find a guy like Mr. Sheffield… I bet he'd never leave me waiting in a restaurant like some schlub…"

"You're right Ms. Fine; I wouldn't."

Her brown eyes snapped up quickly at the sound of that familiar British accent; sure enough, her employer, Maxwell Sheffield, was standing in front of her, smiling with all the charm she'd come to expect from him. A small blush crossed her cheeks and she found herself unable to hold his gaze a moment longer. A gently hand reached out and rested on her arm:

"Ms. Fine, it appears as though your dinner arrangements have been altered slightly; I managed to push back your dinner reservation, that is if you'd care to join me for dinner instead?"

His arm retreated and he offered his arm to the confused and, obviously, flustered woman. His smile widened as she cautiously accepted the offered arm and allowed him to lead them into the restaurant. Once at the table, he'd explain the children's little plot; but, for the moment, he found himself quite happy to feel the warmth of Fran walking closely by his side.

"Anyone care to explain what's going on here?"

There was silence in the room, no one willing to be the first to speak up. His firm, almost fierce, glance finally rested on Niles who sighed heavily and seemed to be bracing for the worst."

"It wasn't Niles, Daddy." Maxwell turned to his eldest who stood sheepishly by the piano, her brother and sister slowly slinking in her direction.

"Yeah, Dad, he had nothing to do with it; the idea was all ours, we tricked him into calling C.C.."

Maxwell caught his sons eyes, but there was no indication in them that he was lying about Niles's involvement.

"Sorry, Daddy," Gracie murmured, "we were only trying to help…"

"That's all well and good, but I still don't know what the bloody hell is going on here? Why was C.C. told to get a file of some sort from the theatre? Why were we told the meeting was changed when it was clearly cancelled? What POSSIBLE reason could you have for causing all this trouble? Don't you think I have been things to be doing right now? And C.C.; she has a life outside of work too!"

"That's righ-watch it Butler Boy," she snapped, catching Niles as he opened his mouth to say something.

Maxwell raised one hand to rub his temples and held the other one up to silence the pair: "still waiting for an explanation here."

Brighton took a deep breath before stepping forward; Maxwell had to smirk a little, in spite of himself, because he'd no doubt his mischievous son had been the ring leader of what even scheme they'd been playing at:

"Well, Dad, it's like this…" the details of their carefully laid out plan began to unravel; the alteration to his business meeting; Fran's note; distracting C.C.; the maybe not so subtle push they thought their father and nanny needed. All the while, he listened intently, not sure whether to be angry or amused; it was hearing about the note and remembering Fran's excitement as she'd run out the door that night that helped him finally settle on an emotion: concern.

"Do you mean to tell me the Nanny Fine is outside of the Rainbow Room, right now, waiting for some dream guy that's never going to show up?" C.C. could barely contain the glee on her face and it made Maxwell's frown deepen at the callousness of her reaction.

"We will discuss this later," he snapped while rushing to the foyer closet for his coat; "right now, however, I have to catch up to Ms. Fine to explain why Mr. Wonderful won't be joining her for dinner this evening."

"Maxwell, wait!" C.C. chased after him, but the door slammed sharply in her face. Her eyes burned as she turned to the four conspirators standing around looking just a little bit ashamed.

"When are you people going to get it?" She threw her arms up in exasperation: "they're never going to be together, whether they have feeling for each other or not-I still can't even begin to fathom what he seems in her to begin with! They are from two different worlds; it would never work out."

Niles, who until this point had stood silent, stepped forward and stopped within inches of her face:

"and when are you going to get it, Ms. Babcock? Mr. Sheffield is never going to be with you either: you are down right cold and heartless at times, you can't even remember the names of his own children for Pete's sake. What I can't fathom is what makes YOU think you have a better chance with him that Ms. Fine would? She's warm and kind and has brought a spark back to this home that hasn't been here in years; you, Ms. Babcock, have never supplied that."

His harsh words, which we so uncharacteristic for him, dropped in the room like lead and silence followed as the children waited for a response.

None came. C.C. merely looked at the ground and sighed heavily, but with dignity, before gathering up her bag and papers. The look on her face was not her normal one of cold confidence, but of a deeply wounded woman and Niles knew in that instant that he'd gone just a step to far. Before he could say another word she had made her way to the door and slipped out.

"Oy… I cannot believe those kids of yours!" Fran pushed the food around her plate, keeping her eyes down in a steady refusal to meet his. Maxwell could see the embarrassment, the downright humiliation, she felt from the whole series of events. Truth be told, he was feeling a bit out of sorts himself; they had both been manipulated by three children, granted three very smart children, but children none the less. A small smirk came to his face: yes, he was angry; yes, the children would still be in a ridiculous amount of trouble when he returned home; but, he was having a wonderful time sitting there with the lovely woman in front of him.

"Ms. Fine, I am sorry that this has happened. I know you were so looking forward to this date…"

"Oh, it's okay Mr. Sheffield; it's my own fault. For all I knew, this guy could have been some morbidly obese guy living in his mother's basement reading comic books all day and watching Star Trek… or another one of Brighton's overly hormonal friends."

"Oh yes," Maxwell laughed, "I remember that Valentine's Day!"

"Yeah, yeah; yuck it up buddy, yuck it up."

"I think the best part was finding you hanging from that billboard…" his laughter had died to a chuckle as he thought about the sweet gesture that had been made when she thought he'd wanted to share a sweet gesture as well. As that thought came to mind, so did many others; as their friendship had grown, so had his feelings for her… and he'd never even noticed. Simple things, like quick quips at the breakfast table or the multiple interruptions in his office everyday, the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the bond she shared with the children… when exactly she'd nestled herself so deeply in his heart, he wasn't sure; but in this moment, it was apparent that she had.

Maxwell reached his hand gently across the table and rested it on hers; startled, Fran looked up to catch his eyes and was instantly lost in the depth and fire burning behind them. Her breath hitched in her throat and she found herself unable to move or speak as he closed the space between them and placed a gently, chaste kiss on her lips.

"Forgive me Ms. Fine," he pulled away and started to withdraw his hand; quickly, she grabbed his wrist and caught his fingers between her own.

"Mr. Sheffield…"she paused, uncertain of where to go; the kiss had been so unexpected and, even though it was done in such an innocent manner, wonderful that she didn't know how to respond to the action.

"Maxwell, Fran."

She blinked again, feeling a bit fermished at this point: she wasn't angry at the children, per say, just hurt and embarrassed about all the mishegas having gone on around her. Now, to top in all off, Mr. Sheffield was coming out of left field with this warmth and tenderness that was going beyond the norm of their friendship… yes, there was romantic tension between them; she wasn't stupid. It just seemed an impossibility that the man sitting across from her was saying what it sounded like he was saying:

"I'm sorry…"

"Maxwell, Fran. Call me Maxwell."

"Maxwell," she repeated gently, allowing the informality sink in. Despite the depth of their friendship, it had always been understood that the formality between them was necessary given the live-in help status.

"Is it alright that I call you Fran, Ms. Fine?"

Fran nodded dumbly, but now a small smile was creeping over her face:

"What do you say I pick up the check and we go home, hmm?"

She raised an eyebrow and smirked, but he simple shook his head and signaled for their waiter.

"We'll have a nice long talk in the limo about how best to punish the children, and when we get home how's about we open up that new container of Ben and Jerry's?" She nodded in agreement of the suggested plan and released his hand knowing there would be plenty of opportunity's on the ride home to slip back into it again.