Fran Fine knows very well what her mother wants. Sylvia Fine would like nothing more than to see her twenty-nine-year-old (and not a day older!) daughter tie the knot to a nice Jewish boy--though, honestly, Ma is getting more and more open-minded (desperate) as the years go on, and those requirements are slowly dropping one by one.
Still, Fran isn't in any kind of rush. It's the nineties, for God's sake, and a woman doesn't need a man to make her happy. She can be perfectly happy single and working, and Fran actually fits that description for perhaps the very first time in her life. Ever since her relationship with Danny ended, being in a relationship at all has seemed less and less important. Perhaps it's because, really, she is in a relationship; it's not a romantic relationship, sure, but that's not what matters, is it? Family matters, and family love is just as important as romance, right?
She's got the kids, after all; even if they aren't her flesh and blood, they're definitely hers at this point. She wouldn't give those three angels up for the world, and between them, Niles, and Mr. Sheffield, her life honestly feels complete. She doesn't know if another person would fit into the life she's built for herself. Would a new guy even be able to understand? Or would anyone she met want her to give up the Sheffields--her family--to start a new one?
She couldn't do that. There wouldn't be any getting away from the Sheffields at least until the kids were grown up and on their own, and by the time that happened, Fran would have a much harder time trying to pretend that she was still dreading her thirtieth birthday. Honestly, it's like she's already gotten for herself the ultimate goal of (Ma's idea of) a relationship: a family to call her own. But no matter how much she loves the Sheffields, Ma has always wanted little Jewish babies that look like her for grandkids, not three blonde kids borrowed from an admittedly stuffy WASP, and, honestly, there's a part of Fran that has to agree; she would like kids of her own at some point, after all.
But she can't pretend that there aren't days when it just kind of feels like she might've missed her chance. Maybe the Sheffields are what she gets instead of the babies she always thought she'd have.
If so, she doesn't mind it. Her life is nothing short of fabulous these days. She lives in a mansion, rides around the city in a limousine, and kind-of, sort-of has her own butler. There isn't much more a girl can ask for, and the Sheffields themselves are like the cherry on top of the miracle sundae. The bottom line is that Fran Fine's life right now is complete domestic bliss (of the upper class variety!), and she wouldn't give it up for a million dates.
...besides, there might just be a bit of her heart that's still a little set on having Maxwell Sheffield turn out to be the nice, rich gentile boy she's been waiting for all along.