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"Ooh, I saw your show the other day. I thought your advice to the young woman whose relationship is on the rocks was particularly facile." Niles examined the spoon on his saucer with a critical eye, breathed on it, and polished it with his handkerchief before stirring his coffee.
Frasier raised an eyebrow. He'd known Niles's mysophobia had been rekindled by David's infancy, but apparently the boy's kindergarten matriculation had fanned it to a point Frasier was surprised they didn't evacuate Bellevue on windy days as a precaution. "Aren't you afraid you've just smeared your spoon with whatever you dusted off your chair a moment ago?"
"You know perfectly well I'd never clean a chair with a shirt pocket handkerchief or a spoon with a trouser pocket handkerchief, and don't change the subject."
"Niles. You know perfectly well neither of us is exactly an expert in healthy, rock-free relationships. The fact that any of our patients get along with their partners at all is a minor miracle given our track record."
"What are you talking about?" Niles asked, his latte and his criticism suddenly forgotten.
"Lilith," Frasier said, looking over the rim of his cup, pitching his voice as dark as the coffee inside it. "Maris. Diane. Mel. Nanette. Guillaume. "
Niles pursed his lips and resumed his beverage with just the tiniest twitch. "I think we can both be excused with respect to Nanette and Guillaume. An indiscretion during one's undergraduacy is hardly the same thing as a —"
"Yes, well, I appreciate the sympathy, Niles, but I was married to her for almost as long as it took him to bail you out of the city jail." Niles's affair with Guillaume hadn't lasted long enough to determine why only one of them had been arrested, especially given that it had been Guillaume's idea to moon the dais at the Reagan rally in the first place. Frasier had always assumed Niles had been set up and Guillaume was in fact a narc, but Niles had never been persuadable on the subject.
"He was an anarchist. I was probably the only person he knew with a bank account."
"My point is that I think we need to admit that our rebellious phases really did happen, and they happened to us. We've both got more failures in our pasts than successes."
"Well, doesn't everyone? And furthermore, doesn't that mean our patients can rely on us with more confidence than they could if we didn't have behind us this — this —"
"This cornucopia of disasters?"
"I was going to say this depth and richness of experience." Frasier rolled his eyes and waved a hand, assuming his potato, potahto would be taken as read. "Anyway," Niles went on, "Daphne and I are as happy as any couple has ever been. And I assume you'd have said if you and Charlotte were—oh, dear, is that why she's not —"
"No, no, she simply couldn't be away from work for so long. She and Frederick are arriving on the same flight next week."
"David will be so delighted. Frederick made quite an impression on his last visit. David asks about him all the time. Oh — but you said you had something to discuss before we went over to Dad's."
"Oh!" Frasier snapped out of his proud-dad preoccupation with the fraternal bond between his son and his nephew. "Oh, yes. Look at this, Niles: It's a brochure for a modern renaissance experience, an exclusive weekend retreat at the MacGuffin Institute. See, look, it combines arts and history and astronomy and other sciences in a series of lectures and workshops and various related events, and it culminates with a space-travel simulator journey through the cosmos accompanied by a performance of Holst's The Planets conducted —" He couldn't resist a dramatic pause before the piece de resistance. "— by Toscano Metius."
He had the satisfaction of watching Niles's frisson from start to finish. "Sounds exhilarating."
"Doesn't it?"
"And it's the best kind of adventure: indoors and almost entirely sedentary." Niles took the brochure to flip through. "'Availability is extremely limited,'" he read. "It gets better and better."
"Yes, the package includes housing in the grounds, which can only accommodate a dozen people at a time, and the chef de maison won't cook for a crowd."
"I love a chef de maison with exacting standards. So how long is the waiting list?"
"Well, that's the thing. It's not a matter of simply putting down a deposit and being patient. There's a rigorous evaluation process."
Niles narrowed his eyes. "Like bidding to join a social club, perhaps?"
"More like applying to college, if you think about it, Niles — a thing at which we have both succeeded, hm?" Niles tilted his head to concede this. "Now, the requirements include a basic form and a fee, of course, and also a personal essay and a letter of recommendation. And because each individual selected for the program is permitted to invite one guest, I thought you and I could both go in, and then we'd double our chances."
"Excellent suggestion, Frasier. May I count on you to endorse my attempt?"
"If you mean will I write your rec letter, yes, naturally."
"Thank you. And of course I'll be happy to write yours, and then whichever of us is successful can bring the other along as his plus-one."
Frasier blinked at Niles for a moment trying to work out what could possibly have made him think that wasn't precisely what he'd been suggesting in the first place. On the bright side, during that moment another thought came to him. "Ooh, in fact, I've just had an idea — suppose you write one essay and I write one letter and then we swap them and change the names."
Niles considered this. "Our backgrounds and qualifications are staggeringly similar."
"Yes, think of the time we'd save!"
"And if our materials are substantially the same, it's far less likely that we'll both be chosen, which will free up a spot for another applicant." Frasier tried to nod and finish his coffee at the same time; it wasn't as graceful as he'd hoped. "Very well, it's a plan. But now I think we should go before Dad and Ronee run David ragged." He stood up.
"Wait, Niles — don't you mean before David runs Dad and Ronee ragged?"
Niles looked up from shrugging on his coat, surprised and a bit puzzled. "No, of course I don't. After you." And he dropped a couple of dollars on the table as they left the cafe.
Two days later, the application wasn't ready and Frasier was chafing at the delay. "Niles, haven't you written that essay yet?"
"Well, no, Frasier, I only got this assignment forty-eight hours ago —"
"How long can it possibly take?
"— and I've spent some of that time engaged in other occupations."
"Oh, such as what?"
"Sleeping," Niles pointed out. "Eating. Showering. Parenting. Do you mind?"
Frasier, of course, hadn't played a daily role in parenting when Frederick was David's age, and he felt a familiar pang of loss with respect to both the distance and the years. He spent more time with Frederick now that he was a young adult than he ever had when he was a boy; who knew you could miss your children even when you saw them all the time? "I'm sorry. I do understand, Niles. It's just that the deadline is coming up, and I'd hoped to read the essay before I wrote the recommendation letter, and I so want this to work out, and —"
"Say no more, Frasier." Niles patted his shoulder. "Why don't we switch: You write the essay, and I'll write the recommendation letter. I can do that without consulting the essay first, and the letter needn't be as long as the essay, so I'll have a little more wiggle room."
"Fine." That all made sense as far as it went. Frasier began to feel a slight foreboding with respect to their chances of eventual success, but he dismissed it and determined to be optimistic. "Don't forget to mention that I minored in music —"
"Of course I won't, and make sure your essay includes a reference to the Sorbonne as well as to Cambridge —"
"Naturally. All right, then it's settled, and we'll have the whole package ready by the time Frederick and Charlotte arrive at the end of the week?"
"It's a deal."
Three days after that, it was Niles who was annoyed. "It will almost certainly not surprise you to learn that I've written your precious recommendation letter and can't submit it because there's no application to link it to. How can you scold me for not meeting some Frasier-only deadline that you made up and then play so fast and loose with the actual firm deadline established by the MacGuffin Institute?"
"Will you relax? I've finished the essay, and I was waiting for you to arrive with the letter so we can coordinate the substitutions and make sure we're submitting the right copy of the letter with the right copy of the essay."
"Ah." Niles's pique deflated like a balloon that had been let go to phhtbthh around the room. "Good point."
"How would it look if the application for Niles Crane had a recommendation letter signed by Niles Crane?"
"That's entirely fair, and I'm sorry I doubted you."
"Thank you. Now. Let's get all our electronic ducks in a row. Here's the link to apply. We'll do mine first, shall we?" He raised his eyebrows and waved down what he assumed was the oncoming protest before Niles had even drawn a breath. "Frasier Crane . . . Chicago, Illinois . . . attach personal statement . . . recommendation letter signed by Niles Crane . . . application fee . . ." He typed in his credit card details. "And . . . send. And now we'll do yours. Niles Crane . . . Seattle, Washington . . . attach personal statement . . . recommendation letter signed by Frasier Crane . . . application fee . . . send."
"What a relief! When does it say they expect to make their decisions?"
"It'll have to be in enough time for the selectees to make travel arrangements. Here it is: successful applicants will be notified on — well, that's one week from today. My goodness, we did cut it fine."
"Good thing the Crane boys operate such a well-oiled machine." Niles reached out; Frasier was halfway to bumping his fist when he realized Niles had only meant to shake his hand; Niles realized the confusion at the same time, and they both switched; and frankly, this was why it was almost always better to be sipping a glass of sherry, so you could clink it with your brother's rather than flailing about guessing what gestures everyone was aiming for and being wrong over and over again.
Niles arrived at Martin's bright and early on the decision notification day. "Is the list up yet?"
"Not yet." Frasier clicked 'refresh' on his browser. "Not yet." He clicked 'refresh' again. "Not yet." He clicked — "Ooh! Here it is!"
"Ooh, read it, read it!" Niles crowded up behind Fraser to read over his shoulder.
"Anderson, Brenzano, Bintner, Calloway, Crane! There it is! We did it!" Frasier wriggled with glee as Niles jumped up and down.
"Which of us is it?"
"Oh, well, it hardly matters, does it? But I suppose we can satisfy your morbid curiosity —" He clicked on the link. "F. Crane. So you'll be my plus-one instead of my being yours. Happy?"
"Not at all, actually. That says 'F. Crane, Boston, Massachusetts.'"
"What? I haven't lived in Boston for more than fifteen years!"
"No, indeed." Niles was looking at him with an expression of particularly pitying smugness. "Whom do we know by the name of F. Crane in Boston?"
Ironically, at that moment Frederick came yawning by on his way to the kitchen for coffee. "Morning, Dad. Morning, Uncle Niles."
"My God!" Frasier said. "Frederick applied for the renaissance weekend at the MacGuffin Institute and beat both of us ? I've never been so annoyed and so proud at the same time!" He stood up to follow Frederick into the kitchen but turned briefly back to Niles. "I'm just sorry he'll only be allowed one extra guest, Niles."
"Well, what makes you think he'll choose you?"
"I'm his father!"
"And yet you had to be reminded that it is he and not you who lives in Boston," Niles said. "Oh, Frederick!" He skittered off toward the kitchen.
"Niles, don't be absurd!" Frasier ran after him, and the pair of them cornered Frederick and made their simultaneous cases for his second MacGuffin ticket.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Frederick said after only a moment, gesturing with a coffee cup in a way that made him look astonishingly like his grandfather. "One at a time, please. Dad."
"Frederick, did you apply for the renaissance weekend at the MacGuffin Institute?"
"Yeah, I saw the brochure on the coffee table the other night and thought I'd throw my hat in."
"I had no idea you were interested in — well, anything of that sort."
Frederick shrugged. "Seemed like a neat idea."
"But you only arrived the day before the application deadline," Frasier pointed out. "How did you craft a personal statement and secure a letter of recommendation in that short of a time?
Frederick shrugged again. "I don't know, one more all-nighter didn't seem like that big of a deal. And Charlotte wrote me a letter. Hey, is today the day they announce the —"
"Yes! You got it and neither I nor your uncle Niles made the cut!"
"Hey, awesome! I mean, but I'm sorry for both of you. It would have been fun to all go together, huh?"
"Frederick," Niles said with the infinite patience of the parent of a much younger child, "have you decided on a plus-one?"
"We'd both be honored to be considered," Frasier said, and managed to leave it at that.
"Oh, gosh. Dad — Uncle Niles — I wish I could bring you both along with me, but since I only get one spot, I really think — Aunt Daphne said she thought it would be a great idea —"
"Ha-ha!" Niles crowed.
"— if I brought David." Frederick topped up his coffee and grinned at them both. "I'm going to grab a shower. See you guys later."
"I'm sorry neither of us got the MacGuffin weekend."
"Well, I am, too, but it's nice that the boys will have this experience together. Even though they're further apart than you and I were in both age and distance, I mean, I'm glad they have each other."
Niles smiled a little. "You're a good brother, Frasier. And Frederick is a good cousin."
"And so are you, and so is David."
They clinked their sherry glasses. "Merry Christmas, Frasier."
"Merry Christmas, Niles."