Frannie's Night Out
by Mary H Healey
It started with a sigh. An innocent, not-in-any-way manipulative, heartfelt sigh. Joe Kelly called to ask Francesca out, an invitation she reluctantly, regretfully refused for all the usual reasons. Joe was a nice guy, a Detective from the One-Five Frannie met in the course of her Civilian Aide duties. He was funny, and sweet, and polite. Not as polite as Fraser, of course, but who is? As she hung up the phone, Frannie wistfully tried to remember the last time she'd been on a real date, or even just out in public with a man unrelated to her by blood, marriage, divorce, or unofficial adoption. That's when she sighed.
"Are you alright, Francesca?" Fraser would never admit to overhearing any part of her phone conversation, but the receiver was on the hook now. And so was she.
"I'm fine. Joe asked me out, but I turned him down."
"Hey, I thought you liked Kelly?" Ray Kowalski, barefoot and tousle-haired, pushed into the kitchen past Fraser on his way to the coffee pot. Still sleepy, he gave her a slow, radiant smile. "Got a better offer?"
Frannie snorted. "Yeah, right. You try getting a sitter for six two-year olds. Can't be done, my friend."
"What can't be done?" Ray, her brother Ray, appeared from behind Fraser. Even first thing on a lazy Saturday morning, he was shaved and dressed and ready for the day. Or ready for his first cup of caffeine, anyway. He gently pushed Kowalski away from the pot, taking down both the large cop-blue mug he used for off-duty days and a smaller mug for Stella.
"Francesca would like to date, but the unavailability of a sitter for six young children complicates matters."
"Date? What date?"
"It's the eighteenth, Ray. Why?" The second Mrs. Vecchio joined the crowd in the kitchen, looking as cool and self-possessed as she did in the courtroom, if somewhat more casual in navy slacks and a white silk top.
"Not date of the month, Stell. Date as in going out." Kowalski picked up his coffee, walked to the table, and sat next to Fraser, who gave him a welcoming smile. That left room at the counter beside Ray for Stella to get both her morning java and her morning kiss.
"Who's going out?"
Frannie sighed again. "No one. No one is going out. Can we drop the subject, please?"
"Drop what subject, cara?"
"No subject, Ma. Where have you been this morning already?"
Sofia Vecchio put the two grocery sacks she'd been carrying on the counter, retrieved her handbag from Dief, and returned the car keys to their usual hook beside the door. "Thank you, Diefenbaker." Dief padded softly to his favorite morning sunning spot and sprawled out with a small grunt. "I've been to the store for a few things, and to the Recycling Center for the papers and cans, and stopped at the library for a few minutes return that detective book I finished and to see if that book Benton wanted had come in yet, but it hadn't. Diefenbaker carried my purse and kept me company."
Stella asked, "Did you enjoy the Patterson, Sofia?"
"I did not. Horrible people. I liked that other fellow, the horse one, much better."
"Dick Francis," Fraser supplied, taking a sip of Kowalski's homebrewed mocha.
"That's right."
Frannie moved to help her mother unpack the grocery bags. While her sister-in-law's back was turned, Stella looked over in time to catch the questioning glance her ex-husband sent his partner, and Fraser's meditative nod. The Mountie lifted his gaze to Vecchio, raised one eyebrow in Francesca's direction, and shrugged a question.
Ray was better at this telepathic communication than she. He looked at his sister, puzzled for a moment, but then his face cleared and he nodded firmly once. His attention went immediately to Stella, who shrugged. Her confusion was mistaken for assent.
Kowalski took the lead. "Frannie?"
"Yeah?"
"Call Joe back and tell him you got a sitter."
"What?"
"Tell him you'll go out with him, 'cause you got a sitter." Ray grinned, first at Frannie, then at Fraser. "Or two."
"Three," firmly resounded from behind the big blue mug. They all looked at Stella expectantly.
"Four," Stella added faintly. Ray's relieved smile told her she'd guessed right.
"Really? You mean it? Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Frannie went around the room bestowing grateful hugs and kisses on each volunteer. She approached the telephone, reconsidered, and excused herself to make the call in more privacy.
Her brother arched one eyebrow and asked, "Think we should listen in?"
"Nah. I think we've had our fun for today. Gimme a hand on that engine, willya, Fraser?" Mug in one hand, Fraser's right biceps in the other, Kowalski wandered toward the mudroom to root for appropriate engine-working footwear.
"Not me. Hey, babe?" Stella wondered sometimes why she let her charming Italian husband get away with the demeaning nicknames that provoked serious tantrums when uttered by anyone else. "I thought we could head out to Oak Brook today, shop a little, do a little lunch, maybe take in a movie? If we don't have to get back for Frannie, that is. What d'ya say?"
That answered the wondering. Only a harder heart than hers could grump at a man who offered to spend a leisurely Saturday shopping. Besides, when he said 'babe' it sounded like a true endearment, not like he'd forgotten her name. She smiled, took his hand, and led him to the door.
Sofia finished putting the groceries away, and looked at the empty kitchen in amazement. "What was all that about?" she asked the wolf on her floor. Dief grumbled a short reply. "Well, when you find out, let me know."
Ma remained in her kitchen, performing many small tasks vital to maintaining a well-run household. Frannie finished her call and skipped upstairs to check on the babies, waking the smallest with her contented humming. Fraser and Ray were barricaded in the back shed, wrestling with a recalcitrant lawn mower. Stella and Ray, wrapped in a ton of impeccably groomed dark green metal, hurtled toward a pleasant day of consumer hedonism.
In the garden shed and the classic car, two virtually identical conversations ensued.
"Are you sure about this?" the darker-haired of the couple asked.
The blondes immediately replied, "Of course. I said I'd do it, didn't I?"
"You did. It's a generous offer. But it's all right to change your mind. I'm sure Francesca will understand."
"Why would I change my mind? Look, just because I haven't spent a lot of time around toddlers doesn't mean I can't handle it."
"I didn't say that. I thought you might be uncomfortable, that's all."
"Oh. Thanks. I'll be fine." A short pause allowed everyone the opportunity to regain companionable silence. Then, hesitantly, "Doesn't it bother you to be around Frannie's kids, knowing we won't have our own? You'd be a great father."
"We could always adopt, if the right situation came up."
"It isn't the same." [And it's my fault], unspoken but understood, resonated between, around, among them.
On thin, dangerous ground, words of more than ordinary power and tact fuel the invocation of benevolent spirits. "Family is more than just blood, you know. Any child of ours would be loved, whether that child had our DNA or was adopted, hatched, left by a stork, or found under a cabbage leaf. For now, it's enough to enjoy Francesca's embarrassment of reproductive riches. From a safe distance."
They shared a laugh, rueful and relieved, touched by the consideration their partner's concerns expressed. In unison, four minds concurred, [How lucky I am to be loved by this person.] The conversations diverged into small-talk specific to luncheon menus and 2-cycle engines, matters of minute but immediate import.
On the Tuesday of the following week, Francesca took her first dip into the dating pool since precocious Brittany started to toddle. A weeknight wasn't ideal, but Frannie refused to wait any longer. The entire household prepared for the Big Night with measures as intense and intricate as the mobilization of a riot squad.
The already-immaculate house was scrubbed again, top to bottom. This had no apparent connection to Francesca's social life, but no one questioned the necessity. Everyone scrubbed, swept, laundered, polished, wiped, brushed, and swabbed with cheerful compliance under Ma Vecchio's expert direction.
Frannie and Stella picked through their wardrobes for suitable dating apparel, inspected the two dozen or so possibilities for flaws only they could see, and ransacked every closet in the house for the perfect accessories to accompany each garment. They created seven complete ensembles without repeating any elements, from shoes to sparkly hair gel. Two were rejected for being 'too daytime', another one was discarded for the heinous crime of making Frannie think she looked fat, one was 'too old', and one was 'too young'. That left two very nighttime, very slimming, very smoky-sexy, just-right outfits for Frannie to choose between.
At Stella's suggestion, Frannie modeled each possibility for the gentlemen of the household, carefully noting their reactions. Shrewdly, she chose the one that made Fraser tug his collar and Ray Kowalski grin inanely, robbed of the powers of speech. Her brother's shocked declaration that no sister of his would be allowed on the streets in that getup clinched the deal.
The menfolk contented themselves with a surreptitious perusal of Joseph Kelly's service record, a quick group territorial subvocalization of potential reprisals, and the unsubtle grilling of Kelly's partner, lieutenant, and anyone else that admitted association with the man. They managed to squeeze all that into a long Monday, between a Sunday devoted to church and home repair and a Tuesday that started with an unproductive lineup, but erupted after lunch into a case-cracking bar fight and the resultant triplicated paperwork.
Sofia and Dief refused to be left out of the general preparations, and spent the afternoon hours vigorously romping with the children. Well, Dief and the children romped vigorously. Sofia doled out scolds and kisses in equal measure while simultaneously overseeing the joyous melee and the evening meal.
Detective Kelly arrived promptly at seven, had the good sense to park the car and go to the door instead of merely honking from the curb, and submitted pleasantly enough to an impromptu Vecchio inspection of his appearance and intentions. Francesca was nervous enough to be ready on time. Joe's sharp intake of breath when she appeared spoke volumes. She smiled and practically wafted down the stairs.
At the door, she made one last attempt to sabotage herself. "Here's the number of the restaurant. Lauren seemed a little warm, you should keep an eye on her temperature. This is Joe's pager number, and my cell phone. Tyler was fretting a little, he might have a tummy upset. Or he might be teething again. I don't think they're due for any more teeth. Maybe I should look it up?"
"Maybe you should go, have a good time, and stop worrying so much," Ray Kowalski said. "We'll be fine. We've got the numbers; they're pasted to every phone in the house; I'm carrying a copy in every pocket, Ray's programmed them into his cell, and I think Fraser's got them tattooed on something permanent."
Although that prompted a wan smile, Vecchios are stubborn. "But what if something happens?"
"What could happen? Good God, Frannie, you've got three cops, a lawyer, a half-wolf, and a grandmother taking care of your kids. For sheer firepower and fierceness, who'd mess with that?"
"One of those cops is Fraser," Frannie reminded him. Both Rays rolled their eyes, acknowledging the hit. At the same time, Fraser met her concerned look with surprised, guileless eyes. His stammered reassurances were cut off by a pronouncement from the family's only true authority.
"Go. Enjoy. Everything will be fine." Thus spoke Mama Vecchio, and so it was. Joe led Frannie away, to subject her to an evening of wining, dining, and possibly a little bit of dancing, without another word from anyone.
Spot on midnight, Frannie said a chaste farewell to a smitten and bemused Joe. Despite the lights blazing from the first-floor windows, she didn't invite him in for fear of waking the children. She'd had such a good time that she'd even forgotten the babies for a whole two minutes at a time. Feeling somewhat guilty at those lapses, but excited and near to bursting with new experiences, she couldn't wait to relive every moment by telling her family all about it.
Extrapolating from her lovely evening to the guest list and preferred chapel for the eventual nuptials, Frannie was contemplating whether 3 tiny ring-bearers and 3 equally tiny flower girls would be adorable, overkill, or both as she let herself into the eerily quiet house. She took her jacket off and hung it on the banister, a reminder to return the garment to Stella in the morning. Then she kicked off her heels and set them neatly on the first step.
She decided to check the family room for signs of life, although no one seemed to be anxiously waiting up for her. Ray was a real pain in the neck when they were younger, but he used to always wait up for her when she went out. A protective pain in the neck, one that she hadn't really appreciated until he'd gone undercover and the majority of his family responsibilities fell to her.
The sliding doors to the family room were open, and she smiled at the tableau. The television was on, with the sound turned down to nearly inaudible. Everyone was asleep, adults and children alike. Stella was curled protectively around Madison on the sofa, facing the back to keep the little one from accidentally slipping off. Ray's shorn head rested at a tilt against his wife's back, Tyler snoozing nearly upright on his chest. They were both snoring, very softly. Nicholas cuddled into Diefenbaker beside Ray. The easy chair held Sofia and little Lauren.
Fraser was stretched on his back, Brandon encircled by his left arm. Ray Kowalski's cheek pillowed comfortably on the Canadian's beltbuckle, while Ray's body formed shelter for Brittany, snuggled up against the Fraser's right arm. Fraser's right hand was supported on Ray's left thigh, completing the circle.
Francesca knew the tales of her evening's adventures would have to wait.
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