Disclaimer: The Nanny and characters in this story belong to CBS, High School Sweethearts & a lot of other people but not me. I just like making up stories about them.
Summary: What could be driving Fran's family away in droves? Fran of course.
A little background. I wrote this during the final season of the Nanny, and posted it on Barb's Really Unofficial Nanny Homepage (a totally awesome Nanny site)I've made a few changes to it (mostly mistakes, I missed before sending it to Barb.) It's a personal favorite and I hope you all enjoy it.
There was just no time for make-up. Luckily she kept a few grooming supplies at Michael's. A two minute shower, brushing her teeth, jeans, a sweat shirt, and a baseball cap. She could do it. Maggie ran to the bathroom, only to find the door locked.
"Whose in there?" She said in her loudest, quiet hiss.
After a few moments the door opened. Gracie poked her head out.
"Maggie, what do you want?"
"What do you think?" The older girl pushed her way in to the bathroom, squinting in the bright light. Gracie hugged her towel around herself. Her hair was dripping. "Get out."
"I haven't even rinsed out my conditioner yet. Where are you going so early?"
"I could ask you the same thing. Hurry up."
Gracie was pleased Maggie hadn't pushed her into the hall. She jumped back in the shower and quickly rinsed off. She was pulling on her fluffy robe and wrapping her hair in a towel when there was a louder interruption.
"Hey get outta there."
"Sorry B you loose. Two ta one." Maggie called through the locked door. She climbed into the shower.
"Let me in Maggie!"
"You're kidding, right B?" Gracie was combing her hair and brushing her teeth simultaneously.
"You're both in there! Oh Damn." Gracie heard Brighton's body crumple against the door. "The heck with it. I'll skip it..."
"Noooo!" Gracie ran out of the bathroom. "You can't Brighton." To cover her desperation she added lamely "hygiene is very important."
"Hey I live life on the edge." But he did a discrete sniff after he closed his door. Not too bad.
Meanwhile the water had stopped. The race was on.
Gracie pulled on some sweats and a T-shirt, threw her hair in a ponytail. She and Brighton bumped in to each other at the top of the kitchen stairs. Maggie almost toppled over them. B lost his footing and grabbed onto Gracie, who in turn grabbed the closest thing to steady herself. Unfortunately for all of them, the closest thing was a 20th century ceramic bust of Grandma Yetta, that Fran had made in jr. high.
It was ugly, even Fran thought so, but it made a lot of noise as it splintered down the stairs.
"What in the bloody hell is all this?"
The children sat sheepishly around the kitchen table. Max hadn't
said anything, since "get your bloody little selves down stairs!" and
that had been over five minutes ago. They would have liked to think it
was because he wasn't quite awake, but they suspected he was just
waiting to reach his boiling point. He was pretty close, the pulsating
vain in his forehead was a deep reddish blue, darn close to purple.
"Dad we're really sor.."
"Excuse me Margaret, did I ask you to speak?"
Normally this would have sent Maggie into a rage, and she would have cited her age and education level, and maybe even her active sexual status, as to why she shouldn't have to take this, but she knew she wasn't acting much like an adult, and Dad didn't seem likely to respond to such reminders this time.
The clock in the hall chimed the half hour. Maxwell sat down, and looked sternly at each of his children. He shook his head slowly.
"I hope you won't be too late. Have I kept you? After all, it's six bloody thirty in the bloody morning." He paused, a long pause. "Where exactly were you going this fine day?"
"Michael and I are going hiking...in...Jersey."
"Melinda and I have to study for our Biology test."
"I uh, I uh"
All three answered together in a jumbled mess. Brighton was kicking himself for not having a plan, or at least something more acceptable than the truth. Going to Starbucks until something else dawned on him, probably wouldn't pull any weight. If only he was as devious as his sisters.
"Hiking in Jersey, Margaret?"
She looked down at the table.
"Exactly what part of Jersey?"
"Um, um Michael wants to surprise me.?"
"Naturally. And Grace, since when do you need to study at the crack of dawn, on a Saturday for a biology test that's not till Wednesday?"
"Wednesday...um, did I say Biology I meant English..."
"And you don't need any textbooks I see..."
Grace didn't even try to respond. Since when did Daddy know her schedule anyway? Oy, parents.
"Brighton, your excuse wins first prize my boy. At least you didn't lie."
"Oh Daddy, we didn't mean to lie, its just...well ..ya know."
Max shook his head slowly, his tired shoulders sagged. He did know, and part of him couldn't blame them in the least. He got up and left them for a moment. He returned with something in his hand.
"Here Margaret. Here's 50 dollars. The three of you go out and get yourself breakfast." The kids exchanged glances of disbelief.
"But one of you, I don't care which, but one of you is to be back here by ten. I need to be at the theater this after-noon, and I won't have your mother alone. Am I understood?"
"Yes Dad."
"And Dad, we really are sorry."
"I know, Gracie. Have a nice breakfast."
Max watched his three disheveled children slink out of the kitchen. They were quite a sight. Brighton had a disgraceful case of bed head, Maggie didn't have a stitch of makeup on and her hair was hidden under a Mets cap, and Gracie's T-shirt was on inside out, Max was fairly certain this wasn't the style of the week. How he wished he had a camera. He felt he would remember them like this forever.
"MMMaaaxxxx." Fran whined from their bedroom. "MMmaaaxxx where are you?"
"Coming darling."
"Bed rest, I could do that, butcha know doc, Max's play opens Thursday, and my cousin Rhonda's little girl, Oh whatshername Max, is making her Bat Mitzvah on Saturday. But I guess a few days off my feet will help."
"Lorna or Lorenne, I believe, but Fran darling, you could miss the opening this once, if it would help the babies, it will play for at least a month (God willing), so you'll have plenty of time to see it."
"Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield, I'm afraid you don't understand. If you want to have a safe delivery and healthy twins, Fran needs to stay in bed for the remainder of this pregnancy."
"But I'm only six months along! Ya want me to stay in bed for another three months? But the nursery isn't ready and the play and
"Mrs. Sheffield, I don't want to alarm (or offend) you, but in older pregnancies, especially multiple births, precautions are sometimes necessary. The spotting was light, but we will not take any more chances."
"She's right darling."
"I know, I know."
In the beginning the family had been extremely supportive. The kids actually liked having Fran where they could find her all the time. Sylvia came over during the day, and she and Niles worked out shifts until the kids got home from school. Yetta and Val came when they could, even Morty had made an occasional visit. But as days turned into weeks the strain began to show. Once the play opened, Max was hardly ever at home, and Niles' family reunion was rapidly coming up. Neither Fran nor Max would take him up on his offer to stay.
"But honestly, Sir, I really can't stand most of them, that's why I came to America in the first place."
"I thought that was out of loyalty to me?"
"That too, Sir, most definitely."
"Ma'am, I'd just assume skip it, my cousin's are boorish, and I don't want to think about my aunt Lillith."
"Sure, my family is much more fun. Did I mention my aunt Frieda is coming for a few days?"
"Fran, I'm outta here. Harass Babcock for me, will you?"
"Ya know it Niles. Have fun."
Fran was understandably restless. Dr. Reynolds had given her very little leeway. She could go to the bathroom and back, and she could occasionally move across the room to an over stuffed chair. That was it. No going to the balcony or checking on the kids and most definitely no stairs. Magazines and movies kept her entertained at first, but Fran was a doer not a watcher, she needed action, gossip, life. And a restless Fran left everyone climbing the walls.
Three days ago Sylvia called Max at the theater. "Max, she's my daughta and I luv ha, but I'm gonna kill ha."
"Mom I know this is difficult..."
"Labor was difficult, her puberty was impossible, this this I just don't know if I can take this. Do you know what she said to me? Do ya know? I may neva get ova it."
"My Lord, Sylvia, what in the world?"
"My Daughta, my Francine Fine Sheffield...I'm not sure I can repeat it."
"What?"
"She said that if I put in "On a Clear Day Ya can See Foreva" again, she was gonna convert to Catholicism."
"Oh Sylvia, I don't think..."
"Its true, my baby is actually sick of Barbra Striesand. Oh, how will I eva face my Canasta club again. Max I need a break, Morty and I have been thinking about going to the Pocanos for a few days and I know this is a bad time, but I think for everyone's mental health, Fran, Barbra and I need some time apart.
Sylvia's departure could not have come at a worse time, but Max couldn't ask her to stay. He and the children would just have to fill in. But within the first 24 hours Max knew this plan too was heading for disaster.
Fran was sitting in the overstuffed chair, looking out the window when Max return to their room. He knew immediately what she was looking at.
"First Niles, then Ma, and now I've driven my own kids out of their home. Oy Max, what am I gonna do?"
"Fran, darling, it's not as bad as all that, I sent them for some breakfast so they wouldn't disturb you."
"Max I'm pregnant, not stupid. I know the kids couldn't wait to get out of here. The sun isn't even up yet. They must really hate me." Fran was still gazing out the window. Max put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't say anything, she didn't want phony reassurance right now. "Max, I know I'm driving ya all crazy, but ya gotta understand..."
"You're bored Fran, a little stir crazy, and unless I miss my guess, you're scared to death. I understand Fran, I'm frightened too, I guess its just I don't know how to fix it."
"Oh Max, you're so good to me, I don't know if I deserve it sometimes. I love you for wanting to fix it, but we both know this can't be fixed, it can only be endured."
The worst part, of course, was that this was only the third week.
Niles was due back on Friday, but Max wasn't certain they could last that long. Each one of the kids had been eager to entertain Fran, but one after the other became zombie-like at the mention of keeping her company. He was rather afraid Maggie was developing a tick. He should have known the kids would try to escape.
"You're the youngest."
"Well you're the oldest, you get to move out soon."
"I told you, I'll do it tomorrow. I have stuff to do."
"That's a crock Magpie and you know it."
"Whatever Brighton. You have no life, so why don't you go back?"
"No and you can't make me!" Brighton tone startled both girls.
"You don't know what she's like. 'Didya ask Lyndsey out yet?' 'I'll call Coach Wells and explain how ya chafe.' 'Lets watch "Beaches"' I can't take a whole day of it. I don't care if Dad cuts me off completely."
"That's nothing. Thursday, when I told her I had plans with Michael, she made me invite him up and and we played...Mah jong...with her and...Val. Oh he is so going to dump me if that happens again."
"I don't know what you two are complaining about." Grace pipes in, "She wants to help me with my homework!" Her siblings look at her with complete disbelief "it's true!...And she keeps doing my hair."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Yeah, she's always doing your hair."
"Not in a bouffont!" Grace throws her hands up to demonstrate the proportions, her face twisted in horror. Maggie and Brighton stare at her for a moment (along with most the other Denny's customers), then look at each other and burst out laughing. Gracie tries to get angry, but within seconds is giggling herself.
"Oh, oh, oh, Remember" Brighton tries to compose himself. "Remember that time she and CC were stuck in the wine cellar. Oh Man I'll never forget..." He breaks down again.
Gracie and Maggie have tears streaming down their faces, and can only nod vigorously in agreement. "And when she thought Chester had eaten La la lamb Chopppp, and she made Fr fran Choppp, big hair and all." Brighton slaps his hand on the table punctuating the final words.
It felt so good to laugh so hard.
"Brigh(ha ha)ton, ya gotta(heee) stop. I've got a (ha ha)stitch." Gracie begs through her hiccupping laugh, both hands pressed to her side.
"Speaking of stitches...Pilgram Grace or Mayflower Madame?"
Maggie's comment sends them all into another fit of laughter.
As the chuckles' and giggles' and heehees' and hahas' died down the kids looked at their plates; half eaten bagels and waffles and streaks of bacon fat; not a pleasant sight, but they couldn't look away.
Brighton finally says what had crept into their thoughts "We are so damn lucky."
"Do ya think she knows what we were doing?" Gracie asks quietly.
"Of course she does." Maggie answers. "She knows everything."
Maxwell Sheffield was not a happy man. He paced back and forth in the foyer, looking at his watch at every turn. 'Sure Sheffield, catch your kids sneaking out, don't punish them, give 'em a fifty and make them promise to be home, Sure Sheffield, you're the bloody parent of the year! Bloody Stupidest parent of the year.' It was 10:20 and the kids still hadn't returned from breakfast. He'd have to call Val. He knew she couldn't come right away, but she would come as soon as she could. Val wasn't the brightest bulb but she was one hell of a friend. How could his own children behave so badly? He was glad he hadn't mentioned that he expected the children back. Fran was a mess. She was convinced that her whole family hated her, and Max couldn't do a thing to dispel her fear.
"Oh-hi-Daddy-Sorry-we're-so-late. You-can-go-now-we've-got-the-whole-day-covered." Gracie didn't breathe between words and was half way up the stairs before Max could respond. Brighton was right behind her, moving a little slower, with a huge grin on his face.
"Hey Dad, you better go. You can ground us tomorrow."
Gracie burst into the master bedroom, and climbed into bed next to Fran.
"Ya lost the coin toss, or did they just stick you with it 'cuz you're the youngest?"
"No, Nope, wrong. Maggie and I have some stuff to do, I just wanted to know if you would do my ha...I mean braid my hair."
"Oh right, you want me to do your hair after the fit you had last night. And I thought retro was in!"
"I was hoping for a French Braid, I'm sorry about last night."
"Well...I don't know..."
"Please..."
"I was very hurt..."
"Please Mommala, please..." Gracie jumps up and grabs a brush and hairspray before Fran answers.
"Oh all right. When did you become sucha shmooza? By the way, your shirt's inside out."
"Ah man, why didn't anyone tell me? I'll change before I go."
"And meanwhile who's baby sitting me?" She asks as she brushes Gracie's hair. "I know your father musta forced one of ya into it."
"Brighton will be here. But he's in the shower right now, and trust me, that's a good thing. Mags and I will be back sometime this afternoon."
"The changing of the guard," Fran deftly weaves Gracie's locks, "I guess that's the only fair way."
"Uh uh, no, Brighton will be here too."
"Okay, what do you two have on him?"
Gracie turns and smiles at Fran. "It's not like that Mom. But I've said too much already." She stands and starts to walk away, then runs back to Fran and kisses her on the forehead. "Thank you, I'll see ya later."
Fran was baffled. She listened as Gracie shut her door. She heard the shower stop. Gracie yelling something to Brighton, and trotting down the stairs. What were they up to?
"Hey Mom, hungry?" B stood in the doorway wearing a robe and combing his hair.
"Not right now, didn't you all just have breakfast?"
"Oh we finished about 8 I think. I've got a few things to do, but I'll be back in a bit, 'kay?"
"That's fine Brighton."
She must have fallen asleep after Brighton stopped in, because the next thing she was aware of was Brighton using a string of cuss words that would make her father blush.
"Brighton Milhouse Sheffield, whattsa matta with you?"
"Oh man, I'm sorry, I didn't (ow ow ow) mean to wake you (ooowww)!"
He was jumping around the room on one foot, obviously in some degree of pain. "I dropped the stupid CPU on my foot."
"Come ova here, sit, let me see. B, why don't you have shoes on?"
"I was trying to be quiet."
"Well that worked beeutifully didn't it?" She tilted her head and smiled. "What is all this?"
"It's my PC, I thought you might like to borrow it for a while."
"For why, exactly, Brighton? I don't know anything about those things."
"You can learn. There's a lot of cool stuff to do on-line. I set you up with your own e-mail account so you can mail Dad at work, or even the girls and me, we all have accounts at school. I put Uncle Nigel's address and a few others in your address book. And there are Fan club pages for all the soaps and Barbra Streisand and Former Foot Models of America."
"You made that up."
"Yeah...but I could help you make one if you want."
"Maybe later. B I don't think this is for me..."
"You can shop."
"I Can Shop!"
"Sure, all the major stores have sites, and most deliver within a couple of days. You need to be careful, but you can buy almost anything on-line nowadays. You remember, you were gonna sell fake moles on the internet just last year."
"I was, wasn't I? Well whatta ya waiting for get that contraption together already."
Fran called for a pizza while Brighton set up the computer. He talked steadily while he worked, about the internet, and school, and all those other things Fran had been trying to pry from him only days before. He laughed as she explained about getting sick of Barbra.
"Barbra I'll neva get sick of, Ma singing along, Oy, that's anotha story."
Brighton completed the job after lunch and gave his mom a few pointers. Fran had just found a Web site on Bewitched (her all time favorite show (first Darren)) when the girls returned. "Maggie, Grace come look at this, they've got pictures of the kids who played Tabitha. Oh, your brother has opened up a whole new world for me." Maggie winks at Brighton and gives him a thumbs up.
"We've got some surprises for you too." Just then Michael comes staggering through the door under several huge books and packages. The kids help him unload.
"Hey, Mrs. S. how's it going?"
"I'm good Michael. Come see what Adam looks like now, not bad, not bad at all."
"Sorry, I've got another assignment, and Mags says this is one of the bonding days you guys like so much."
"She did, did she? I'm the last to know."
"Michael, do you have the tape?"
"It's still in my car Sweets, wanna walk me out?"
"You know it baby."
"I'm gonna puke."
"They're almost as bad as watching Dad and..."
"They're in love, is that a crime?" Fran asks.
"Should be."
"Brighton Sheffield, I'm ashamed of you. You should be happy for your sister, you too Gracie. Anyway, what's this bonding thing Michael was talking about?"
"Sorry, you've gotta wait for Maggie and the tape."
"Oh, oh, oh, are we gonna watch 'Beaches'?" Brighton cringes and Gracie laughs.
"No, Mom, but maybe you and B can watch it tomorrow."
"You die munchkin." Brighton takes out his invisible pistol, aims, and shoots Gracie in the heart; But she lives (apparently she was wearing her invisible-bullet proof vest.)
"Okay, okay, I'll watch it with her, chill Brighton."
"Oy Brighton, if you don't like 'Beaches' just say so. I've got 'For the Boys', 'My Fair Lady', 'The Sound of Music', 'The First Wives Club', and of course, all of Barbra's." Fran, Gracie, and a returned Maggie laugh at Brighton's agonized expression.
"Mom, you are gonna give me at least one brother, right?"
"...so we got to thinking, well I'll let you watch."
"Yeah, we figured you might like to be able to watch it over and over again. Start the tape Brighton." The four of them were now all arranged on Fran's bed, Gracie on one side of her, Maggie on the other, and Brighton stretched across the bottom. He pressed play. Fran watched as her three rumpled kids appeared on the screen before her.
Maggie: Hi Mom, we have a confession to make.
Brighton: Not like you don't already know.
Grace: We all realized that Dad would want one of us to stay with you today.
B: And like the sweet kids we are, we decided to sneak out before you guyswoke up.
M: And it might have worked too, if Brighton hadn't tried to kill Gracie.
B: I tripped okay! Geez, Maggie.
G: But as you probably know Daddy caught us, and made us promise to come back.
M: We fought straight through breakfast about who would get 'stuck' with you.
G: It was getting a little bit ugly.
B: To say the least. But somewhere along the line, I'm not really sure how...
G: We started to realize..
B: How lucky we were to have someone like you in our lives
M: And that we were doing the one thing to you that you would never do to us.
M,B,&G: Bail.
B: We wanted to apologize for the way we acted, but nothing seemed right.
G: So we decided to make this tape, so you'd always have a record of our regret. But that wasn't gonna be enough so we tried to think of ways to cheer you up, and make the next couple of months easier on everyone.
G: We're gonna pause the tape now Mom, 'cuz the rest is private.
Brighton hit the pause button, and turned to face his mother and sisters. Fran was speechless, her eyes welling up with tears. "Um, Mom, do you want to know what Maggie and I did?" Fran nods, without looking away from the skewed TV screen. "Well, remember that People article a couple of months ago?"
"You know the one with the Baby Designer to the Stars? She did the nursery's for Rosie O'Donnell and the Travolta's and I think even Madonna." Maggie waited to see if Fran would respond, she didn't "Well I tracked her down, she's in LA this weekend, but she'll be back in New York this week. She's agreed to meet with us to design the nursery for the twins."
"Maggie and I were shopping all day. Those books have all sorts of samples for carpeting, wallpaper, fabrics, and all sorts of other stuff. Would you like to take a look? Mom?"
"Are you okay?"
"Are you still mad?"
"We're really really sorry.?"
The Sheffield children were deeply concerned. In all the years they had been with Fran, she had never gone this long without speaking (to them anyway, she occasionally stopped talking to their father for weeks at a time, he really hated that.)
Fran Sheffield was in a state of semi shock. She knew the kids were speaking to her, but she wasn't following a word. A tear slipped down her cheek.
"We made her cry, oh my God, we've never done that before." Brighton was more horrified than ever. "We are scum."
His pitch stirred Fran to react. "Oh, oh, I'm okay. Really B, I didn't mean to frighten you. The video surprised me a little, is there more?"
"Yes, but you have to watch that alone, or maybe with Dad, it's kind of personal. Do you want to look at some of the sample books, or should we go?" Maggie asked gently.
"Oh no, don't go. The samples, oh the samples I'd love to see em."
Gracie and Maggie pulled over some books and Brighton explained how they were going to set the TV up so Fran could watch all the work on the room and put in her two cents worth. Maggie said the designer would be coming on Tuesday afternoon to meet with them and Sylvia if she and Fran were back on speaking terms.
After dinner and a game of Canasta the kids told Fran about their final surprise for her. "We know that you hate missing Dad's play (it's actually pretty good this time). So tonight Michael took the camcorder and is taping the play, and interviewing the actors and probably driving Daddy nuts."
"It'll be just like you're there Mom!"
Brighton gave her the remote control and kissed her good night.
The girls followed suit and Fran was left alone with the TV.
Gracie sat alone on Michael's couch, her legs crossed under her. She stared out from the television screen, tugging at her inside out Tee-shirt, and twisting her ponytail around her fingers.
Grace: I'm first. Michael put the camera on auto-something so no one else is here.
She looks around, as if to confirm that is the truth to herself.
G: I'm sorry that I've been a brat to you lately. I'm mean the hair was kinda funky, but I know you were just having fun. I know that you must hate being cooped up all day. I want you to know that I love you sooo much, even if I don't always act like it.
Gracie pushes her bangs out of her eyes and remains quiet for a moment.
G: I think the twins are two of the luckiest kids in the world. And I'll tell them that too, when they're obnoxious teenagers.
Gracie coughs and looks down. She tilts her head and begins speaking again in a husky voice.
G: I've thought of you as my mother for a long long time, even if daddy hadn't married you, I would still picture you whenever someone asked me about my mom. I love you.
The TV blanks for a second then re-focuses with Brighton on the couch.
Brighton: Hi Mom. This is a little awkward for me. I'm not really a touchy feely kind of guy. But you've taught me that some things, important things, have to be said. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you being dumped by Danny. I hate to tell you this, but I consider that to be one of the best things to have happened in the history of New York. I'll never understand why it wasn't the other way around, but I think it worked out for the best. You saw right through my crap and you liked me anyway!
He shakes his head back and forth and smiles.
B: That just amazed me, still amazes me, to be honest. You are the best.
He gets up to pause the camera, then crouches down, and looks directly at Fran.
B: Oh yeah, I love you Mom.
The screen blanks again, and Fran hits the stop button. She's crying too hard to go on to Maggie's right away. She calms herself, and has a drink of water, before watching the last segment.
Maggie: The other kids have gone home, I've been trying to think how to put my part. Nothing seems right. But here goes nothing. Well not nothing, um, oh darn it.
Maggie gets off the couch and starts pacing, much like her father does when he is nervous or upset. The thought makes Fran smile. Maggie continues to mutter to herself, and Fran is unable to make it out, but after a moment Mags stops and slouches back on the couch. Ready to begin again.
M: Okay. After my mom died, it seemed like nothing mattered any more. Daddy became like a ghost. And we all sort of disintegrated into nothing. Brighton became a complete brat, and Gracie, I don't think she was crazy, but a few more years with that therapist, and I'm sure she would be by now, and me, Fran, I forgot how to laugh.
She cries at that.
M: I don't think you know how much we needed you. And I think, no I know, sometimes we take you for granted. We did today. I'm so sorry. Because if I can do even a fraction of what you did for me, I know you would make it through this pregnancy like that (she snaps her fingers). So I promise to help you, every step of the way. Okay, well maybe not the actual delivery, that would be a little too gross. But anything else you need, let me know. Love you.
"Hello darling, everything all right?" Max walks in looking haggard. On week nights he can usually leave the theater by nine, but on weekends there are press conferences and parties and other things that make it impossible to escape. He did his level best to be home by midnight.
"How did it go tonight?" Fran asks.
"Jolly good, except for that pretty boy Michael. I'll never understand what Margaret sees in him. He was running around the place like an idiot with a camcorder." Max turns to continue the story, "Have you been crying? Bloody hell, I'll kill them. When are they going to learn..."
"Max, Max stop. Why don't you ask why I've been crying?"
"I can jolly well guess. It's those three brats of mine."
"Of ours, yes it was our kids, our wonderful, beautiful kids."
Fran had Max sit and she recounted her day (omitting the bit about shopping on the internet), how the kids had been so charming and open, and the wonderful ideas they came up with to entertain her. And finally about the video that she would cherish for years to come.
"You seem so happy, I wish I could have been the one to cheer you up. I feel rather useless."
"No, Max. You are wonderful." She hugs him, then lightly kisses his lips. "But the kids let me know something that only they knew."
"And what was that?"
She smiled, and another salty tear rolled down her cheek. "That I'm a good mother."