01x01 - The Pilot

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THE NANNY PILOT



Written by
Peter Marc Jacobson and
Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser


Executive Producers
Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser
and Peter Marc Jacobson


Producer
Fran Drescher


Produced by
Kathy Landsberg


Story by
Fran Drescher & Peter Marc Jacobson
and
Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser


Directed by
Lee Shallat


Rev. Final Draft 3/23/93


THE NANNY


“Presentation”


CAST


FRAN FINE -- FRAN DRESCHER
MAXWELL SHEFFIELD -- CHARLES SHAUGHNESSY
NILES -- DANIEL DAVIS
C.C. BABCOCK -- LAUREN LANE
MAGGIE SHEFFIELD -- NICHOLLE TOM
BRIGHTON SHEFFIELD -- BENJAMIN SALISBURY
GRACE SHEFFIELD -- MADELINE ZIMA
VAL -- RACHEL LEVIN
DANNY -- JONATHAN PENNER
SYLVIA FINE -- RENEE TAYLOR
DOTTIE -- DEE DEE RESCHER
*EDDIE -- JIMMY MARSDEN
*PIANO PLAYER -- RAY JOHNSON



ACT ONE


SCENE ONE


EXT. “DANNY’S PARISIAN BRIDES FOR LESS” (EST.)


INT. BRIDAL SHOP - DAY (D-1)


(VAL IS WAITING ON DOTTIE, A CUSTOMER IN A
BRIDAL GOWN. FRAN ENTERS FROM THE STOREROOM)


FRAN:(GASPS)Is that Heather Locklear or is that Dottie Kirschenbaum?

(THEY LAUGH)

FRAN: (CONT.) Look at you. A vision in white. Like a cloud.

VAL: So how are the shoes?

DOTTIE: I don’t know if I love ‘em.

FRAN: Honey, what’s to love? Be glad they Even make a satin pump in a 10 ½.

DOTTIE: Fran, do you think I’d doing the right thing?

FRAN: Are you kidding? A wedding is the Most magical day in a woman’s life. You
walk in here a lonely girl, you walk out into a lifetime of love.

VAL: (SOTTO, TO FRAN) What are you talking about? Fran, it’s her fifth husband.

FRAN:Shut up. She’s a repeat customer.


SFX: PHONE RINGS


(DANNY ANSWERS IT)


DANNY: Danny’s Parisian Brides for Less. Je suis Danny.

DOTTIE: So when are you and Danny going to set a date already?

FRAN: Ah, you know me. Always a bridal consultant, never a bride.


(DOTTIE HEADS OFF TO DRESSING ROOM. VAL CARRIES HER TRAIN. FRAN HEADS OVER TO
THE CASH REGISTER WHERE DANNY IS EATING)


DANNY: Hiya Babe, want some souvlaki?

FRAN: No, I wanna talk. Are we ever going to get married?

DANNY: Yeah, you know I told you. What do you want me to say?

FRAN: How about “Here’s a ring. Pick a pattern." You’re just stringin’ me along
‘cause I’m your Top sales girl, aren’t you?

DANNY: Not true.

FRAN:Really…


(CALLS TO DRESSING ROOM. DANNY, SOTTO, PROTESTS “SHUT Up”, “STOP IT”, ETC.) Oh
Dottie, I swear I must be getting’ Alzheimers but did I mention that Dayna
Schwartz bought the same gown you’re wearing… “go know.”

DOTTIE: (O.S.)Is she doin’ the sherbert color combo?

FRAN: Are you makin’ a commitment or what?

DANNY: Babe -

FRAN: (BACK TO DOTTIE) Yeah, come to think of it, Dayna’s doin’ the lemon, lime
, tangerine too.

DOTTIE:(O.S.)CANCEL!

DANNY: There were nine bridesmaids and a flower girl in that party! You want a
commitment, I’ll give you a commitment. You’re fired.

FRAN: Fired?! I just wasted three years of an ever dwindling youth on you and
this dump. And for what? For us. Now I realize there is no us. Oh no, you can’t
fire me, Danny Imperiali. I quit.


(SHE SLAMS THE DOOR. BEAT. THE DOOR OPENS AGAIN) No, you fired me. That way I
can collect unemployment.


DISSOLVE TO:


ACT ONE


SCENE TWO


INT. SHEFFIELD LIBRARY - A FEW DAYS LATER (D-2)


(MAXWELL SHEFFIELD IS A DASHINGLY HANDSOME 40ISH BROADWAY PRODUCER. HE STANDS IN
THE LIBRARY OF HIS TOWNHOUSE ON THE UPPER EAST SIDE OF MANHATTAN. C.C. BABCOCK
IS PERCHED ON THE EDGE OF THE DESK READING “TOWN AND COUNTRY.” SHE’S A SMART
ELEGANT DIVORCEE WHO TOOK HER RATHER LARGE SETTLEMENT TO DABBLE IN THE THEATER.
MAXWELL IS ENGAGED IN A HEATED TELEPHONE CALL)


MAXWELL: Another actress is simply out of the question. She is the show. How
much does she want? Get someone else..(HE HANGS UP)

C.C.: Maxwell, if we can’t get Rita, we’ll get Chita! Same thing for God’s sake.


MAXWELL: See, that’s the genius of Andrew Lloyd Webber. He stuffs his actors
into cat suits and it doesn’t matter who the hell they are. God, I hate him.

C.C.: Darling, you need a shiatsu.


(SHE STARTS RUBBING HIS BACK. NILES, MAXWELL’S BUTLER, APPEARS. HE’S A MAN IN
HIS 50’S, WITH A DRY, SARCASTIC HUMOR. HE CLEARS HIS THROAT)


MAXWELL: Yes, Niles. What is it?

NILES: Sorry to interrupt, sir. I see you’re working hard as always, Miss
Babcock.

C.C.: Theater has always been a passion of mine.

NILES: Yes and I can’t wait to see what you’ll be mounting next. I just thought
I’d inform you, sir, that the new nanny’s gone.

MAXWELL: What did Brighton do this time?

NILES: The fake su1c1de, sir. You know, spread eagle on the marble with a bit of
catsup trickling out of his ears.

MAXWELL: (CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE) At least we know the boy’s creative. Demented,
but creative.

NILES: Shall I order up another nanny, sir?

C.C.: Absolutely. I’ve got half the money people in New York coming to your
backer’s party and I will not have those children running loose. (THEN) Not that
I don’t love them as if they were my own. (OFF NILES’ REACTION) I do.

MAXWELL: Yes, C.C., your maternal instincts are legendary. Niles do you have the
number for the agency?

NILES: It’s committed to memory, sir.

MAXWELL: Oh, why can’t children be more like a musical? Produce them, teach them
a few catchy tunes, and send them on the road until they work out the kinks.

C.C.: They can be Maxwell. It’s called boarding school. (OFF MAGAZINE) Here’s a
nice one. Oh look, it’s in Europe.

MAXWELL: (TURNS TO HER) C.C., I was joking.

C.C.: (LAUGHS) So was I. Just hire someone, Maxwell. Hire someone wonderful. And
most of all, hire her before tomorrow nights.


ACT ONE


SCENE THREE


EXT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE - THAT AFTERNOON - (D-2)


(FRAN COMES TO THE DOOR AND RINGS THE BELL. SHE’S CARRYING A LARGE COSMETICS
SALESCASE, PRACTICING HER PITCH)


SFX: DOORBELL


FRAN: Hello I’m Fran Fine, your “Shades of the Orient” cosmetics representative.
(AND GIVING UP) Oy, what a loser.


(NILES OPENS THE DOOR)

FRAN: (CONT.) Hello, I’m Fran Fine, your -

NILES: Yes, come in. We’ve been expecting you.

FRAN: You have?


INT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE - CONTINUOUS

(IT’S A STUNNING NEW YORK TOWNHOUSE)


NILES: You are here for the Nanny position?

FRAN: (SIZING UP THE PLACE) I could be… (SHE FLIPS HER COSMETICS CASE) Wow, this
place is nicer than my Uncle Jack’s condo in Boca and ya know he bought the
model.


(NILES STARES IN AMAZEMENT)

FRAN: Whatsa matter? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?

NILES: No, all’s clear. May I present your resume to Mr. Sheffield?

FRAN: Resume? Ya know what? Why don’t you go get Mr. Sheffield and I’ll do the
resume presenting myself.

NILES: As you wish. (AS HE EXITS) This ought to be good.

FRAN:(SITS) What the hell am I going to do for a resume?

(SHE OPENS MAKE-UP CASE, GETS A LIPSTICK AND STARTS WRITING RESUME ON BACK OF AN
ORDER FORM. BRIGHTON, STAGGERS INTO THE ROOM, A KNIFE IN HIS STOMACH AND KETCHUP
OH HIS SHIRT. HE “DIES” AT HER FEET)

FRAN: Do you have a pen?


(HE GASPS HIS LAST GASP)


FRAN: (CONT.)All right, never mind.


(MAXWELL ENTERS)


MAXWELL: Brighton, you’re losing your touch. (TO FRAN) I’m Maxwell Sheffield.
This is my son, the late Brighton Sheffield.


(FRAN STEPS OVER BRIGHTON AND CROSSES TO MAXWELL)


FRAN: Wait, I know you. Esquire magazine. New York’s ten most eligible widowers.
My condolences, by the way.

MAXWELL: You read “Esquire”?

FRAN: When they list the ten most eligible widowers, I do. I’m Fran Fine.

MAXWELL: Do come in.


(HE TURNS TO LEAD HER INTO THE LIVING ROOM)


FRAN: Oh, do you have gorgeous chachkas.

MAXWELL: (EMBARASSED) I beg your pardon?

FRAN: You know, bric-a-brac, the dust collectors.

MAXWELL: Ah, the Rodin. Yes, he’s quite will know for his bronze “chachkas”. May
I see your resume, please?

FRAN: Sure. (SHE HAND HIM SCRIBBLED RESUME)

MAXWELL: Crayon?

FRAN: Lipstick.

MAXWELL: Of course. And what a lovely shade.


(SHE LAUGHS. HE CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE)


BRIGHTON: I hate her.

MAXWELL: Now Brighton, let’s not be hasty.

FRAN: Yeah, I haven’t sung “Climb Every Mountain” yet.


(MAXWELL IS CHARMED. HE LOOKS OVER RESUME)


MAXWELL: Miss Fine, you’ve listed the Queen Mother as a reference?

FRAN: Wha? Let me see that. That’s not the Queen Mother. That’s my mother from
Queens.

MAXWELL: So let’s see, shall we? Three years at the Lancome counter at
Bloomingdale’s, a degree from the Ultissima Beauty Institute… Well, that
certainly spells out “nanny” to me.


(DOOR OPENS AND MAXWELL’S DAUGHTERS ENTER. GRACE IS AN ADORABLE BUT VERY SERIOUS
SIX YEAR OLD. MAGGIE IS A SHY AND INSECURE FOURTEEN YEAR OLD, HER NATURAL BEAUTY
HIDDEN INSIDE A FRUMPY SCHOOL UNIFORM. GRACE RUNS TO MAXWELL AND HUGS HIM)


GRACE: Hi, Daddy.

MAXWELL: (TO GRACE) Hello, sweetheart. (TO MAGGIE) Maggie.

MAGGIE: (BARELY LOOKING UP) Hello, father.

FRAN: Oh, aren’t you gorgeous? Look at that hair.(TO MAXWELL)You can’t get color
like that out of a bottle.

MAXWELL: Ah, there’s that Ultissima training shining through.

MAGGIE: I’ll be in my room doing my homework. (SHE EXITS)

BRIGHTON: She really lights up a room, doesn’t she?

MAXWELL: Brighton.

FRAN: So, who needs personality whey you’re an heiress.

MAXWELL: She’s a little withdrawn, but I’m sure it’s just a stage.

BRIGHTON: Fourteen years now.

MAXWELL: Brighton, you’re ten. Would you like to see eleven? Now that’s enough.
(TO GRACE) How was therapy today darling?… Any breakthroughs?

GRACE: Dr. Bort and I did some regression. She took me back through my
childhood.

FRAN: Must have been a quick trip.

GRACE: Oh, you have no idea how complicated I am…

FRAN: So you’ve got your kids in therapy?

BRIGHTON: It was easier than talking to us directly.

MAXWELL: That’s it, Brighton. Go to your room.

BRIGHTON: Come on, Gracie. Let’s leave father alone to hire someone else to take
care of his problem children.

MAXWELL: (HURT)I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ll show you out. (HE HANDS HER
THE RESUME AND LEADS HER INTO THE FOYER)

FRAN: What did I do? One smart-ass remark from the kid and I don’t get the job?
That’s not fair.

MAXWELL: You can see for yourself I need help here. More help than can be
provided by a door to door cosmetics girl.(HE PUTS THE COSMETICS CASE ON HER
SHOULDER)


SFX: THE PHONE RINGS


MAXWELL: Niles!


SFX: THE PHONE RINGS


Niles!

FRAN: Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll get it.(ANSWERS PHONE)Sheffield residence. No,
honey. This is Fran.

MAXWELL: Give me that.

FRAN: It’s the Nanny agency.

MAXWELL: (INTO PHONE) Maxwell Sheffield, here. (THEN, BACK TO FRAN) Thank you.
It’s really been a pleasure meeting you.


(SHE GOES INTO THE FOYER AS NILES COMES DOWN THE STAIRS)


MAXWELL: (CONT) Cheers.(BACK TO PHONE) No, Monday is not acceptable. I need a
nanny this weekend.


(NILES OPENS THE DOOR FOR FRAN)


I’ll give you front row tickets to my new show. No, I can’t get you tickets to
“Cats”! (HE HANGS UP AND LOOKS OVER TO FIND FRAN STILL IN THE ROOM. SHE WAVES)
Do you have any experience with children?

FRAN: Hey, I come from Flushing. There’s nothing these kids can throw at me I
haven’t seen before. Except maybe their trust funds.

MAXWELL: All right, you’re hired. But only on a trial basis.


(NILES CLOSES THE DOOR)


FRAN: (HUGS MAXWELL) Thank you, Mr. Sheffield. You won’t regret it.

MAXWELL:(BREAKING OUT OF THE HUG) Somehow I’m rather sure I will. Niles will
show you to your room.


(MAXWELL EXITS. FRAN STARTS OFF WITH NILES)


FRAN: So, the nanny gets to live here?!

NILES: Is that a problem?

FRAN: Well, I’m sure I’m gonna miss being twenty-nine years old and still living
with my parents, but if it’s best for the kids…

NILES: Twenty-nine?

FRAN: Don’t start with me, Niles.


(THEY HEAD OFF)


DISSOLVE TO:


ACT ONE


SCENE FOUR


INT. SHEFFIELD DINING ROOM - THE NEXT MORNING (D-3)


(MAXWELL AND THE CHILDREN ARE SEDATELY SEATED AT TABLE EATING BREAKFAST. NILES
POURS TEA. FRAN SWEEPS IN IN HOUSECOAT AND SLIPPERS)


FRAN: Good morning everyone. Boy, that jacuzzi tub really knows how to perk a
girl up in the morning… (THEN, NOTICING THEY’RE ALL FULLY DRESSED AND COIFED) Do
you people sleep like that?

MAXWELL: No, in a rather astounding coincedence, I sleep in pink, fuzzy slippers
just like yours.

FRAN: A simple “we dress for breakfast” would suffice. Niles, you have to tell
me these things.

NILES: I simply assumed…

FRAN: (PILING FOOD ON HER PLATE AT THE BUFFET) Don’t assume anything with me,
Niles. I’m from Flushing, for God’s sake.


(NILES STARES AT HER PLATE)


FRAN: (CONT) I just love a good buffet.

NILES: It’s free, Miss Fine. You’re allowed to go back.

FRAN: So where do I sit?

NILES: The previous nanny sat in the kitchen.

FRAN: How anti-social. (SHE PULLS UP A CHAIR AND SITS) So kids, what’s on for
today? A walk in the park, or should we just kick back and hang around the
mansion?

BRIGHTON: We have to go somewhere. Father’s kicked us out again.

MAXWELL: I didn’t kick you out, Brighton. I simply asked you not to torment the
caterers as they prepare for this evenings soiree.

FRAN: Ooh, a soiree. You know, my sister- in-law’s a caterer. She does a porko
de pruno - that’s French for pork and prunes - not only delicious, but a natural
digestive.

MAXWELL: Thank you for sharing that, Miss Fine.

FRAN: I could get you a deal.

MAXWELL: C.C. has already made the arrangements.

FRAN: C.C.? What’s a C.C.?

MAGGIE: Father’s lady friend.

MAXWELL: Maggie, dear, she’s just a business associate.

NILES: Um-hmm.


SFX: A PHONE RINGS O.S.


(NILES GOES TO ANSWER IT)


FRAN: Well, tell her to double the egg rolls. Shiksas are notorious for not
ordering enough food. (POURING TEA) Booze, yes. But food, they don’t know from.

MAXWELL: Shiksa? Is that like a chachka?

FRAN: Yes, but they cost a lot more.


(NILES RETURNS)


NILES: It’s Ms. Babcock for you.

MAXWELL: I’ll take her in the library. (AND HE EXITS)

NILES: (SOTTO) Miss Babcock loves to be taken in the library. (AND HE EXITS WITH
PLATE)

FRAN: So we’re having a party. What are we wearing?

GRACE: (SADLY) We’re not invited.

BRIGHTON: And neither are you.

FRAN: Your father’s paying for it. Of course we’re invited. We’ll eat, we’ll
dance… (TO MAGGIE)You’ll bring a date.

BRIGHTON: Maggie doesn’t date.

FRAN: Never?

MAGGIE: The boys haven’t noticed me yet.

BRIGHTON: They noticed, Maggie. That’s why you don’t date.

FRAN: What is wrong with you, Brighton?

GRACE: Middle child syndrome.

BRIGHTON: Thank you, Sybil.

FRAN: Knock it off, you’re supposed to be a family here. Now if we’re going to a
party, we’ve got things to do. We’ll go shopping, get our hair done. A manicure.
You’ll do a French tip. It’s a very clean look.

MAGGIE: You don’t understand. Daddy’s parties are always for business.

BRIGHTTON: He’s wooing backers for his new show.

FRAN: Oh, it’s a wooing thing. Well, as you can imagine, I’ve had my share of
wooers. And the first thing I want to know is, who is this guy? Can I trust him?
Who’s not going to trust a Dad that brings his kids to the party?

BRIGHTON: Makes sense to me.

FRAN: Great. I’ll just throw something on and then we’ll go, we’ll do.(SHE TAKES
HER PLATE AND HEADS OUT) I hate to waste.

MAGGIE: This doesn’t make sense at all. Dad’s going to hate this.

GRACE: C.C.’s going to totally freak.

BRIGHTON: Sounds like a party to me.


FADE OUT:


END OF ACT ONE


ACT TWO


SCENE ONE


EXT. “DANNY’S PARISIAN BRIDES FOR LESS” (EST.)


INT. BRIDAL SHOP - LATER THAT DAY (D-3)
(FRAN IS FLIPPING THROUGH A RACK OF DRESSES. GRACIE IS TRYING ON A BRIDAL VEIL.
VAL IS BUSY AT THE REGISTER)


FRAN: So what’s your favorite color?

MAGGIE: I don’t know. Beige?

FRAN: Oy. How you doing, Gracie?

GRACE: I’m feeling empty and alone.

FRAN: You want a tic-tac?

GRACE: (THE EMPTINESS GONE) Okay.


(FRAN GIVES HER A TIC-TAC)


BRIGHTON: Oh, cool. A cockroach. Got any rats?

FRAN: Wait until Danny gets back. (TO VAL)Where is he anyway?

VAL: Getting his back waxed.

FRAN: Oh good, we’ve got all day. Now come on, we’ve got to make Maggie
beautiful.

BRIGHTON: Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

MAGGIE: Shut up, Brighton.


(BRIGHTON sh**t MAGGIE WITH A GARTER)


FRAN: You know, you should be nicer to your sister.

BRIGHTON:(SARCASTIC) Why, because we’re a family?

FRAN: That’s right. And someday your father’s going to be old and sick and
you’re going to want him to live with her.(THEN, GIVING MAGGIE A DRESS) Here. Go
try this on. It’s a copy of a knock-off of a Yves St. Laurent.

MAGGIE: It’s so fancy. Everyone’s going to look at me.

FRAN: So they’ll see a beautiful girl.

MAGGIE: I don’t know. I’m not good at this like you are.

FRAN: So that’s why I’m here. What do you think, you turn fourteen and bumb, you
have the savoir-faire and sophistication of a woman of my years and experience?
Hey, when I was fourteen - just go try it on.


(MAGGIE GOES INTO DRESSING ROOM. BRIGHTON AND GRACE WANDER OFF)


FRAN: (CONT’D)Who knew this job would be so demanding?

VAL: Please, I’m exhausted. Meanwhile, who’s the guy? Where’s the house?

FRAN: Wait. I’ve got pictures. (SHE SHOWS PICTURE TO VAL) This is the boss.
Cute, but a little repressed.

VAL: Nice.

FRAN:(SHOWS HER ANOTHER PICTURE) Niles, the butler.

VAL: Ooh, a butler. Very classy.

FRAN: Val, it’s like living in Caesar’s palace. Of course, the kids are going to
need some work. (POINTS TOWARDS DRESSING ROOM, SOTTO) That one’s got no
personality. (INDICATES GRACIE, WHO IS STARING AT HER INFINITE REFLECTION IN A
THREE-WAY MIRROR) This one’s got multiple personalities. And Brighton - where’s
Brighton?


(FROM UNDERNEATH A WEDDING GOWN, WE HEAR…)


BRIGHTON: Are these dummies anatomically correct?

FRAN:(PULLING HIM OUT) What do you care, you’re ten years old? Now be normal or
you can’t come to the party.

VAL: Party? What kind of party?

FRAN: The boss is having a fundraiser.

VAL: The repressed guy? And he wants these kids there?

FRAN: Well, yes. But he doesn’t know it yet. That’s why he needs me. (BEAT) Of
course he doesn’t know that yet either.

VAL: Maybe you should just keep the kids at home.

FRAN: The party is at home.

VAL: What kind of person has a party at home and tells his family to disappear?

FRAN: Hello. (FRAN HOLDS UP PICTURE AND GIVES VAL A LOOK)


DISSOLVE TO:


ACT TWO


SCENE TWO


EXT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE (EST.)


INT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE - THAT NIGHT (N-3)


MUSIC: TBA


(A GALA PARTY IS IN PROGRESS. THE MEN ARE IN DARK BUSINESS SUITS, THE WOMEN ALL
IN LITTLE BLACK DRESSES AND PEARLS. THE MUSIC IS BEING SUNG BY A PIANO PLAYER.
MAXWELL COMES UP BEHIND C.C.)


MAXWELL: Has anyone told you how handsome you look this evening?

C.C.: Oh Maxwell, you’re such a flirt. It’s going rather well, don’t you think?

MAXWELL: It’s perfect. The food is exquisite, the music is divine, and the
guests obscenely wealthy.

C.C.: Doesn’t Ivana look marvelous? My surgeon, of course.

NILES: Miss Fine would like a word with you, sir.

MAXWELL: Really? Where is she?


(NILES GOES TO THE STAIRS)


FRAN: I’m up here.


(FRAN APPEARS AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS IN AN INCREDIBLY OUT OF PLACE EVENING
GOWN)


C.C.: What’s that?

MAXWELL:(DUMBSTRUCK) That’s… the nanny.


(THE PIANO PLAYER SINGS, “LADY IN RED” AS FRAN DESCENDS THE STAIRS)


PIANO PLAYER:(SINGS) HEY, THE LADY IN RED. THE FELLOWS ARE CRAZY ‘BOUT THE LADY
IN RED…

MAXWELL: Look at that dress.

C.C.: Maxwell!

MAXWELL: And you look nice, too.

C.C.: Handsome. You said mine was handsome.

FRAN: You like? I borrowed it from my cousin, Miss Long Island, 1989.

NILES: A very good year.

FRAN: I just wanted to tell you that the children are ready.

MAXWELL: For what?

FRAN: To come to the party.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, the children are not invited to the party.

FRAN: They’re not? Is my face red.

C.C.: Well, now it matches the rest of you.

NILES: There’s that rapier wit we’ve come to count on.

FRAN: You must be C.C.

C.C.: (ICE) Charmed.

FRAN: Likewise, I’m sure.

MAXWELL: Well, now that we’ve all met, why don’t you just go back upstairs and
inform the children they can’t come.

FRAN: Oh no, I can’t do that. They’re all dressed up. It’ll break their little
hearts.

MAXWELL: Well I can’t tell them.

C.C.: I’ll tell them.
(

GRACE AND BRIGHTON COME DOWN THE STAIRS)

GRACE: Hi, Daddy.

MAXWELL: You really play dirty, Miss Fine.


(GRACE LOOKS ADORABLE IN HER PARTY DRESS. EVEN BRIGHTON, IN HIS SHIRT AND TIE,
LOOKS NORMAL)


GRACE: Daddy, you like my party dress Loehmann’s, seventy percent off.

FRAN:(TO C.C.) She’ll never shop retail again.

BRIGHTON: Hi, Dad. Surprised?

MAXWELL: No tricks tonight, Brighton.

BRIGHTON: Best behavior, Dad.


(MAXWELL PATS HIM DOWN)


MAXWELL: Alright.

FRAN:(CALLS UP THE STAIRS) Come on, Maggie, don’t be shy.


(MAGGIE APPEARS. SHE’S STUNNING)


MAXWELL: My God, I never realized how much you look like your mother.

MAGGIE: You like it?

MAXWELL: You look so grown up.

GRACE: So Daddy, can we come to the party?


(ON THE SPOT, MAXWELL LOOKS FROM C.C. TO FRAN)


MAXWELL: Of course you can.(HE USHERS THEM INTO THE LIVING ROOM. THEN, TO FRAN…)
We’ll discuss this later. (TO THE ROOM) Friends, I’d like to thank you all for
coming here this evening. Now before I tell you about my latest production, I’d
like to introduce the three greatest production of my life… my dear children.


(PEOPLE APPLAUD)


FRAN: Aw, isn’t this sweet? Could you just drop dead?

C.C.: I don’t know, could you?

FRAN: Let’s take a picture.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, you’ve done quite enough already. I don’t think this is the
time or the -

PARTYGOER #1: Lovely family, Sheffield.

MAXWELL: Smile, everyone.

FRAN: Oops, got to wait for the flash.

C.C.: Just take the picture!


(NILES STEPS IN AS FRAN TAKES THE PICTURE)


FRAN: Oh, that’s great.


(FRAN GOES TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE FOOD. C.C. COMES OVER TO HER)


C.C.: You might want to keep a low profile. You’re a little out of your element
here.

FRAN: Don’t worry. I’ve been to my share of affairs. My Uncle Jack threw a
weekend bar mitzvah with a “Star Trek” theme they’re still talking about. (BEAT)
Ooh, is that Ivana? Excuse me. (AND SHE HEADS OFF WITH HER CAMERA)

C.C.: Waiter - (AND SHE TAKES A DRINK FROM A PASSING TRAY)


DISSOLVE TO:


ACT TWO


SCENE THREE


INT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT (N-3)


(THE PARTY’S OVER. THE LAST PARTY GOERS ARE HEADING OUT. MAXWELL AND FRAN ARE AT
THE DOOR AD-LIBBING GOODBYES. FRAN HOLDS A CHECK)


FRAN: Goodnight, Ivana. Don’t worry, honey, you’ll meet somebody else, too.


(C.C. SITS ON THE COUCH, SEETHING. SHE HOLDS OUT AN EMPTY HIGHBALL GLASS)


C.C.: Niles - more.


(NILES POURS AND EXITS)


FRAN: Do I count four zeroes on this check?

MAXWELL: All right. I’ll admit having the children here wasn’t the complete
disaster it might have been.

FRAN: Oh Mr. Sheffield, you gush!

MAXWELL: All right. All right. It went splendidly. (TAKING THE CHECK FROM
HER)Let me put this with the others.


(HE HEADS TOWARD THE LIBRARY. FRAN STARTS CLEANING UP)


C.C.: Well, congratulations, Nanny Fine. It seems you’ve pulled it off.

FRAN: What could go wrong when you put a father together with his children?

C.C.: I think I’m going to be ill.


CUT TO:


INT. LIBRARY - CONTINUOUS


(MAXWELL CLOSES A DESK DRAWER, LOCKS IT AND SMILES. HE HASN’T YET NOTICED MAGGIE
AND THE WAITER, EDDIE, KISSING ON THE BALCONY)


MAXWELL: Maggie!

MAGGIE: Daddy!

EDDIE, THE WAITER: Mr. Sheffield, I was -

MAXWELL: You were just leaving.

EDDIE, THE WAITER: Right.


(EDDIE RUNS OUT OF THE ROOM. MAGGIE FOLLOWS)

MAGGIE: Eddie - wait!


MAXWELL: Maggie!


(MAXWELL FOLLOWS)


CUT TO:


INT. TOWNHOUSE - CONTINUOUS


(EDDIE RUNS THROUGH ON HIS WAY TO THE FRONT DOOR, FOLLOWED BY MAGGIE AND
MAXWELL)


MAXWELL: (CONT’D) Maggie!

MAGGIE: Eddie!

MAXWELL: Maggie, come back here!

MAGGIE: How could you embarrass me like that?

FRAN: What’s going on?

MAXWELL: That boy was mauling her on the balcony!

MAGGIE: It was just a kiss!

FRAN: He kissed you?

MAGGIE: Yeah.

FRAN: Oh, her first kiss! This is so exciting! Let me get the camera.

MAXWELL: This is not exciting, Miss Fine. It’s appalling! She’s just a child.

MAGGIE: No, I’m not.

FRAN: She’s not, you know.

C.C.: (STARTING TO PERK UP)I think I’m starting to feel better.

MAGGIE: Daddy, I’m fourteen years old.

FRAN: You know, when I was fourteen… maybe this isn’t the time.

MAXWELL: Maggie, go to bed and wash that make-up off your face! You -

FRAN: Me?

MAXWELL: This would never have happened if not for you.

C.C.: Yes. Definitely feeling better.

FRAN: What the hell did I do?

MAXWELL: You took an innocent schoolgirl, dolled her up and turned her into…

FRAN: A young woman?

MAXWELL: She’s just a little girl.

FRAN: Get outta here! She’s a woman, I’m telling you, and unless you’re going to
dip here in bronze and put her on display with the rest of your collectibles,
she’s going to grow up and someone’s got to help her.

MAXWELL: You are way out of line. She’s not your daughter.

FRAN: No, if she was, she wouldn’t be upstairs crying her eyes out on what
should be a very exciting and memorable evening.

MAXWELL: Thank you for your candor and concern.

FRAN: You’re welcome.

MAXWELL: You’re fired.

FRAN: Fired? After all I’ve done, this is the thanks I get?


(HE GIVES HER THE CAMERA)


FRAN: (CON'T) Oh no, you can’t fire me, Maxwell Sheffield. I quit.(SHE SLAMS THE
DOOR, THEN RETURNS) No, you fired me. That way I can collect unemployment.


FADE OUT:


ACT TWO


SCENE FOUR


EXT. SHEFFIELD TOWNHOUSE - NIGHT (EST.)


INT. SHEFFIELD LIBRARY - LATE THAT NIGHT (N-3)


(MAXWELL SITS AT HIS DESK, STARING INTO SPACE. NILES ENTERS WITH A SANDWICH ON A
PLATE)


NILES: I drove Miss Babcock home and called Betty Ford. They’ll pick her up in
the morning.

MAXWELL: (SMILES)Thank you, Niles.


(NILES HANDS HIM THE SANDWICH)


NILES: I noticed you didn’t have a chance to eat and I thought you might be a
bit peckish.

MAXWELL: (BEAT)I overreacted, didn’t I?

NILES: Like Reagan in Grenada.

MAXWELL: It’s just that Maggie looked so much like her mother. I’ve already lost
Sarah. I don’t want to lose my little girl.

NILES: I quite understand.

MAXWELL: How can I be so smart about some things and so stupid about others?

NILES: It’s called being human, sir.


(MAXWELL EATS IN SILENCE A BEAT)


MAXWELL: What is this?

NILES: I believe Miss Fine calls it a light nosh. Brisket on a kaiser with a bit
of catsup.

MAXWELL: Hmm. Delicious. (BEAT) Miss Fine, eh?

NILES: Yes.(BEAT) Just what you needed?


(MAXWELL NODS, HOLDING UP THE SANDWICH, THINKING THIS IS WHAT NILES IS REFERRING
TO. A BEAT, AND A LOOK TO NILES)


MAXWELL: You’re not talking about the sandwich, are you?

NILES: (SMILES) No sir. Not the sandwich.


CUT TO:


ACT TWO


SCENE FIVE


EXT. APT. BLDG. IN QUEENS (EST.)


INT. SYLVIA AND MORTY FINE’S APARTMENT - THE NEXT AFTERNOON (D-4)


(FRAN IS WATCHING T.V. IN A PLASTIC-COVERED RECLINER, SERIOUSLY DEPRESSED.
SYLVIA, HER MOTHER, A ZAFTIG WOMAN IN HER MID 50’S, ENTERS WEARING A HOUSE DRESS
AND SLIPPERS. HER HAIR IS WRAPPED WITH TOILET PAPER)


SYLVIA: Do you need a Mallomar, Fran?

FRAN: No Ma, food’s not the answer to everything.

SYLVIA: Meanwhile your father and I have based our entire relationship around
food. Passion goes, sex goes, communication we never had, but food is forever.


(FRAN TAKES A COOKIE. SYLVIA YELLS INTO THE BACK BEDROOM)


Morty? You want another Mallomar? Morty?

FRAN: Ma, Daddy can’t hear you. He’s watching the game… why can’t I find a guy
like him? Deaf and on a pension!

SYLVIA: You will.


SFX: DOORBELL


FRAN: I’ll get it.(SHE OPENS DOOR TO REVEAL MAXWELL) Mr. Sheffield.

MAXWELL: Sorry to disturb you, Miss Fine. I just wanted to drop off the rest of
your things.

SYLVIA: You could never disturb anyone. I’m Fran’s mother, Sylvia.(SHE CURTSIES)


MAXWELL: Maxwell Sheffield.

SYLVIA: Sheffield, is that a Jewish name?

FRAN: Ma, are you insane?

SYLVIA: I can dream, can’t I? Come on in, I’ll make some Ovaltine.

MAXWELL: I’m sure I’d love some, but I really can’t stay. There’s a mob
surrounding the limousine.

FRAN: Oh, I’ll take care of that. (SHE SCREAMS OUT WINDOW) Get away from that
limo. Nobody died. There are no vacancies!(THEN TO MAXWELL) It’s a dog eat dog
when you’ve got a two bedroom that’s rent controlled. Ma, could we have a little
privacy?

SYLVIA: All right, don’t push. En chante, Mr. Sheffield.(TO FRAN) Put on some
blush.


(SYLVIA EXITS. THEY STAND THERE A BEAT)

FRAN: Why don’t you have a seat?

MAXWELL: You have plastic on your furniture.

FRAN: They’re preserving it for the afterlife. (THEN, TO MAXWELL) So how’s
Maggie?

MAXWELL: Well, she’s not talking to me, but Brighton says she’s fine.

FRAN: Brighton?

MAXWELL: Yes, he’s been surprisingly attentive to her. He wouldn’t tell me why.
Something about me getting old and where I’d live.

FRAN: Kids.

MAXWELL: Well, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.

FRAN: We come from two different worlds. I mean, if I were you and I hired me -
oh, I’d be thrilled, who’s kidding who?

MAXWELL: But you’re not me. In fact you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. Which
is not altogether a bad thing, necessarily. Do you understand what I’m getting
at?

FRAN: No.

MAXWELL: Oh well, perhaps, if we learned to respect each other’s differences we
could give it another go.

FRAN: Are you asking me to come back?

MAXWELL So it seems.

FRAN: So what you’re saying is you feel lousy about the whole damn thing. And if
you could, you’d get down on your hands and knees and apologize.

MAXWELL: MS. FINE!

FRAN: Apology accepted… Ma, pack my things, he wants me back!!

SYLVIA: Smile!(SHE SNAPS A PICTURE)


FADE OUT:


END ACT TWO