Maxwell dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and made his way upstairs. After weeks of negotiations with network executives, the show was finally on track. He smiled at the thought of surprising Fran with a spur of the moment getaway.

Although he never doubted their love for one another, lately they seemed to be moving in different directions, drifting away from each other.

Unknotting his tie, Maxwell called out to her as he entered their bedroom. He did a quick search of the bathroom before stepping onto the balcony.

Realizing he was alone, Maxwell changed out of his suit and into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. As he closed the door to the walk-in closet, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

He still looked good for his age. His gray hair flourished, weaving its way through his black curly locks. He smiled, running a hand through his hair. Between Fran, our family, and life in general, the odds of my hair graying faster than normal multiplied.

Maxwell chuckled. If Fran knew what I was thinking, she'd kill me. At the sound of the front door opening and closing, he headed back downstairs.

"Fran?"

"Sorry dad, it's just us," Jonah replied for himself and his sister. His short curly dark brown hair had a slight reddish tinge, the result of spending time under the California sun. Their backpacks rested on the floor as Eve shuffled through the mail.

"Have you seen your mother?"

"Not since this morning," Eve replied tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. "Try downstairs in the basement. I found her there last week." She kissed her father on the cheek and followed her brother upstairs.

Maxwell paused midway down the steps when he spotted Fran sitting on Yetta and Sammy's old blue and white tweed sofa. Boxes that were previously unopened since their move from New York surrounded her. A faint smile crossed Maxwell's face as he observed his wife.

Fran's dark curly semi-voluminous hair spilled over her shoulders. The band of her black skirt held the navy and cream pinstripe silk blouse she wore.

Her legs were crossed; one black stiletto mule dangled precariously from her foot. She was completely engrossed in the book she held, unaware of anyone or anything around her.

"Sweetheart," Maxwell said continuing down the steps, "what on earth are you doing down here?"

She looked up from her book. Her eyes were bright, matching her smile. "Hi sweetie! How long have you been home?"

"About a half an hour. You didn't answer my question." He peered into the nearest box finding stacks of books in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors.

"I was just looking through some of my old journals. I didn't realize I had so many."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you looking through your old journals?"

Fran opened her mouth but an explanation stalled in her throat. "I like rereading my old diaries," she replied finally finding her voice. "You know just to see how my life has changed over the years."

She busied herself with the boxes in front of her. Fran knew that if she met his questioning gaze, he would know she was not being completely honest with him.

The oddity of her action and the explanation she had given him sent off a warning signal to his brain. Why is she acting so peculiar? Better still, what in the world is she keeping from me?

"Max?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you want something?"

"Oh yes. I came looking for you because my calendar is clear for the remainder of the week. I know we haven't spent a lot of time together lately and I wanted to take you away."

"Max, that's a wonderful idea," Fran said flinging her arms around his neck. "But what about Jonah and Eve? We can't leave them by themselves."

"Leave everything to me. I want to spend time alone with my favorite girl." Maxwell cradled her jaw in the palm of his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers in a slow, soft kiss. When she opened her eyes, his smile reflected Fran's. "I've missed you."

Her hands moved over his arms, kneading his muscles as she made her way to his shoulders. She caressed his neck, threading her slender fingers through his hair.

As her nails grazed his scalp, she pressed her hand to the back of his head, forcing his mouth to hers. Fran's lips parted, opening her mouth wider as he caressed her tongue with his.

Maxwell's hand flattened against the curve of her neck. He lowered his hand, pushing his palm against her breast. His other hand clamped at her waist, drawing her body into his.

"Fran," he breathed, nuzzling her neck. "Oh Fran, it feels like it's been forever since I touched you, since we've been together like this." His fingers slipped between her uncrossed legs, brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

She shifted, guiding his hand until he reached her center. Caressing her with delicate strokes, he maneuvered around her panties and slipped his fingers inside her body.

Fran gasped, arching her body against his hand. "I know Max, I know." She closed her eyes, melting into the pleasure of his touch. "I've missed you too."

A low throaty purr escaped from Fran as Maxwell pushed her into the sofa. She moved her hands over every inch of his frame, guided by familiarity.

His growl of pleasure mirrored hers as he nestled his body between her legs. Fusing his mouth to hers, Maxwell's hand slipped from her center, his fingertips stroking her thigh.

"Mom, dad, are you down there?"

Maxwell pulled from Fran, staring into her dark eyes. He swallowed, struggling to control his breathing.

"Yes Grace. We'll be right up."

They waited for her footsteps to fade before rising from the sofa. Fran and Maxwell straightened their clothes, communicating with only a stray touch or kiss. She slipped her arms under his, wrapping them securely around his waist.

"I can't wait to get you alone," Fran said, "with no children or business partners or studio heads to disturb us."

"Can we leave now?" A wide smile spread across her face. Tilting her head, Fran closed her eyes as Maxwell's lips met hers in a soft kiss. Brushing his fingers against her cheek, he said, "Let's go upstairs."

He bent his head toward her and kissed her again. Lacing their arms around each other's waist, they climbed the stairs in a comfortable and familiar silence.

As he made their travel arrangements, Maxwell wondered what compelled Fran comb through her journals. When he closed the door to his office, Maxwell decided to ask her during their holiday.