Episode 2 – Smoke Gets In Your Lies

"Is it my imagination," Fran asked plaintively, nibbling on a muffin at the kitchen table, "Or does Miss Babcock have a problem with me?"

"You mean you can't tell?" asked Niles, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

"I dunno, Niles … you're all so mean to each other in this house. And not in a caring way, either. How am I s'posed to know who really hates me and who's just followin' the trend?"

Niles looked up from the carrots he was chopping with slightly more genuine, and rather amused, surprise. "A caring way of being mean, Miss Fine?"

"Sure!" She gestured emphatically with the muffin, dropping crumbs all over the table. "Ma nags me about getting married, I nag her about her eating habits, we all laugh at Daddy's toupees … that's, like, Flushing-speak for 'I love you'. But you guys? I can't even begin to crack the code."

She shook her head and sighed, her vivacity shadowed for a moment by real confusion. She was always so cheerful, so outspoken, that it was easy to forget she was out of her element here. Niles left the carrots and sat down opposite her. He knew what that was like.

"Why doesn't Miss Babcock like me?" she asked.

There was a bushel of answers to choose from: Because you're of the working you look good in the sort of revealing outfits she's too self-conscious ever to wear. Because you have the gift of making people like you, which she never learned. Because you caught Mr. Sheffield's eye in one day, while she's been pining after him for sixteen years. Perhaps even because you are my friend … That last reason, he dismissed with a severe mental shake.

"I do not presume to plumb the depths of that woman's mind," he said.

"Oy,with the big words." She rolled her eyes. "Are you saying you don't know?"

"I don't know."

"If she thinks I'm into Mr. Sheffield, she can think again," said Fran, scattering crumbs. "Sure he's cute, but he's so … stuffy. And I'm sure he'd never go for me … at least not after my stupid story turned Brighton into a smoker."

"Ah, but your punishment method was perfect," Niles reminded her. "You might just have cured the boy's habit for the rest of his life."

Brighton had come back from the nursing home with wide eyes, detailing Grandma Yetta's smoking hack, wheelchair and senility in the most lurid colors.

"Oh, that was Ma's idea. I'll tell her ya said so." Fran grinned.

At that moment, their chat was interrupted by the click of high heels, the swish of a black trenchcoat and a waft of chilled nicotine. Nobody, thought Niles with a private smile, makes an entrance like Miss Babcock.

"Hello, hello!" declared CC, dropping cigarette ash into Fran's half-empty coffee cup as she walked by.

"Ew, gross!" Fran yelped. "See, Niles? This is why people shouldn't smoke."

"Oh, I thought that was an ashtray. So sorry, Nanny Fine." CC's smile fooled nobody in the room.

"Whatever you do, Miss Babcock," Niles spoke up, "Please don't smoke that in Mr. Sheffield's office. It reeks worse than your Nair, if that's possible."

(One of his many strictly guarded secrets was that he actually liked the scent of aloe vera, especially when unobscured by smoke.)

"Speak for yourself, Lemon Pledge. I'll smoke wherever I like," she said over her shoulder, heading for the winding staircase at the back of the kitchen.

"It will distract Mr. Sheffield," Niles called after her.

She paused and turned around. The hand holding the cigarette hovered uncertainly in the air. "What?"

"You know quite well the effect a pair of scarlet lips smoking a cigarette can have. How's he supposed to work in those conditions?"

Fran opened her mouth to say something, possibly to protest. Niles winked in her direction.

"A-haaa … " CC's voice lowered to a purr. She took a long, slow drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke into Niles' face, and smiled at him wickedly. "I get it. You don't want Maxwell to think I'm attractive, you bitter old man. Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

She ascended the stairs with extra dignity, leaving a cloud of smoke behind as a token of scorn for all impertinent domestics. Niles watched her out of sight, memorizing that blood-red smile of hers. Maybe this time it finally sank in, please God. Miss Babcock in a cancer ward doesn't bear thinking about.

"Wait for it," he whispered to his confused colleague. "Three … two … one … "

"CC!" Mr. Sheffield's scream was audible all through the house, and possibly down the block as well – no intercom necessary "Get that disgusting thing out of my office!"

Niles held up his palm to Fran, who laughed heartily as she slapped him a high-five.