Chapter 1

"I don't know what you're so upset about," Mona shook her head as Jonathon followed her down stairs. "I'm letting you drive."

"Oh great, another day of you leaning out the window cat calling all my friends," He sighed from the bottom of the stairs.

Mona shook her head. "Not all of them. Only the legal ones."

"Geez, grandma…"

"Relax, you'll have your car back from the shop in a couple of days and I already promised not to actually pick up any of them until then," She laughed as they headed for the kitchen. "Come on, let's go suffer through your mother's cooking."

It really was suffering, but they kept quiet; did their best to hide their unhappiness. They'd gone through all the housekeepers the agency recommended and even a few the neighbors suggested. Most of them had been fine, pleasant even. But there was always some fault to be found. If they were honest, they would just say what the real issue was; none of them were Tony. They didn't mention him or anything to do with him, despite the fact that Sam still visited regularly. They wanted to move on, they wanted to put it all behind them, at least they agreed to move on to get Angela back among the living. They would be the first to admit that nothing was ever going to be right as long as Tony was in Iowa.

So they grinned and bared it. Ate whatever it was she put before them. They did laundry, or at least tried, and mopped the floors. They kept conversations light and made small talk. There seemed to an unwritten rule that all conversation of substance was off limits. Probably because it would lead back to Tony, to Iowa, to the fact that no one had really smiled in months. They floated around the house like strangers living under the same roof, like the past never existed. Like time stopped ticking, but life kept moving.

"I don't know how much more of Mom's cooking I can take," He grumbled, hands on his stomach as they neared the kitchen door.

"Doesn't smell as bad today," Mona mused, "I don't smell smoke and fire alarms haven't gone off."

"That's already a better start than yesterday," Jonathan shrugged. "I hope whatever it is; it's fully cooked this time."

"It almost smells like pancakes," Mona said leaning toward the door.

"Yeah it does. Does mom know how to make pancakes?"

Mona shook her head. "She didn't yesterday. I think I smell nutmeg…"

"And cinnamon," Jonathon finished, confused.

"It almost smells like…." She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Like Air Jemima's," Jonathon finished quietly.

It couldn't be. They'd finally cracked up. Finally gone off the deep end; finally lost all touch with reality.

"It can't be…" Mona half asked, half said, but Jonathon didn't reply. He was already blowing past her and into the kitchen.

"Hank, honey, wake up," Sam said, throwing back the covers, while she tugged at her husband's arm.

"Ugh Sam, leave me alone. Let me sleep. It's my one morning off."

"We have to go to Angela's for breakfast, let's go. Come on."

"I don't want to go to Angela's for breakfast. I haven't recovered from yesterday's breakfast," He reminded her, pulling a pillow over his head. "I don't know how much more of your mom's cooking I can take."

"I know Angela's cooking hasn't been, great…" Hank groaned at his wife's description of Angela's dalliances in the kitchen. "Okay, most days it hasn't even been properly cooked, but I have a feeling today is going to be different. Come on, move it."

"It's never going to be right over there, Sam," He reminded her, pillow still over his head. "Not without…"

"Don't say it, just get up and get dressed, please. We're going to miss it!" She tugged at his arm, pulled him gently, sending the pillow to the floor. "Come on, come on."

"Miss what? Sam…"

She hated lying and keeping secrets, but she'd promised her dad. He'd taken her to the airport and they said their goodbyes. She'd grabbed her bag and been ready to board when he stopped her. Told her to wait; wait for him buy a ticket. He called Dr. Graham from a payphone near the gate and apologized profusely for what he was about to do. He tried to make the whole thing sound as professional as he could, but when it came down to it, they all knew.

He was going home to Angela.

His seat was two rows behind hers. They talked over, around, and through everyone near them. He didn't have a plan. He didn't know what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. He wasn't even sure Angela would open the door to him. He hadn't even gone home to change out of his tux or put his plaque on the wall before he jumped on the plane He was winging it. Flying by the seat of pants. He was taking a chance. Throwing caution to the wind. He was going to take her in his arms and never let go; that much he knew.

The taxi dropped them off in front of Angela's house. Sam had little doubt that things would work out, this was Tony and Angela after all. But if it didn't, he'd sleep on her couch. If she neither saw nor heard from him after he got out of the taxi, they'd all meet at eight for breakfast at Angela's.

"You'll find out soon. I promise," She smiled as he finally got out of bed.

"Fine but if I have to choke down more half cooked sausage and runny scrambled eggs, you're going to owe me forever."

"I have a really strong feeling that you won't be disappointed. Hurry," She smiled and threw him his clothes.

She knew he wouldn't be disappointed.

To be continued