Pierre and Fran began a slow but special friendship. She still hadn't opened up to him about Mr. Sheffield, and he was intuitive enough not to push her for details. Someone special had once captured her heart, and it was obvious to him that Fran was not ready to talk about him yet. He must have been special, for every so often he would catch a peek of Fran staring out the window, perhaps wondering if her prince would come to rescue her.

But this was no fairy tale, and Mr. Sheffield was no prince. At least, not in Fran's eyes anymore. If he wanted to find her he would have by now. It had been weeks since she'd walked out the mansion doors, and there was no sign of her British prince anywhere. But somehow, someway she was starting to smile again. Being around clothing helped- Pierre was right in hiring her, she could find something to suit even the pickiest customer. She herself had taken to wearing baggy sweaters and not so tight leggings which barely hid the curves she was once so proud of displaying. But in her mind, she was moving on, and letting go at the same time, which was the hardest part.

"Fran? Our shifts are up. Would you...never mind."

"Say it. My ma always told me I never had an unexpressed thought, whatever that meant," Fran smiled as she hung up the last remnant of her fancy wardrobe.

"Would you like to go out for coffee?"

"I can't. Early to bed, early to rise ya know?"

"Okay. But the offer stands. I know a great cafe just a few blocks from here..."

Fran looked at Pierre. He really was handsome. Why hadn't she noticed that before? Had Mr. Sheffield really ruined all other men for her? Well Mr. Sheffield no longer rented a room in her mind, so what harm would it do to go for coffee? It was just coffee, right?

"Actually, Pierre, I had another thought. There's a bar right around the corner...I don't know about you but I could use a great martini!" Fran laughed for the first time since Pierre had met her.

"That sounds even better. Let me just lock up and I'll drive you."

"Better yet, let's call a cab. I don't know about you but I don't plan on stopping at one martini!"

So they went, and they laughed, and drank and drank and drank. Fran found herself having an unexpectedly good time, and it did feel good to be herself again. That night she vowed, no more moping. The past was in the past, and it was time to move forward.

And that's exactly what happened that night. For in the morning, instead of in the studio apartment she'd rented, she found herself waking up in the most unexpected of places- she woke up in Pierre's bed. And she hadn't a care in the world.

00000000000

Maxwell was trying everything he could to forget about her, but there was one little picture that she'd left behind that he couldn't quite pack away. It was Fran in her M&M dress, his personal favorite. Of course, he'd have never picked it out for her, but somehow she made it work. She could wear a burlap sack and still look sexy and glamorous. So he tried to move on,tried to forget that there ever was a Nanny named Fran, but the day to day reminders were killing him.

Gracie was back in therapy, and Maggie and Brighton were throwing themselves into their schoolwork. Maybe they were like their old man in more ways than any of them ever would have thought, for they all tried to displace their feelings. No one talked about her. But no one forgot. No one would ever forget.

tbc