True to his word, five days later, Tony saw too it that Angela awoke to a remarkably empty agenda the day before the wedding. Everything had gotten done, including the completion of – in her expert opinion – a stellar presentation for Sprint to be made the following week.
Today, everyone was arriving for the wedding. The Fairfield Inn was booked for the weekend with guests for the Randall-Bower wedding. Melissa and her parents were staying in Mona's apartment, while Mona, Jonathan, and Mrs. Rossini were staying in the house. After visiting and rejecting what seemed to be every available banquet hall in New York City, Angela had nearly cried with relief when the Fairfield Country Club had a cancellation on their date. It hadn't been Melissa's first choice because she had been hoping to have the wedding in the city, but one look at the vaulted ceilings, marble floor, and view of the lake, and she had been sold.
Whimpers and fussing from across the hall told her Charlotte was waking up. The baby was a natural early-riser, but like most infants who woke up early, she was also in bed by eight every night. Before she could throw on her robe and get her daughter, she heard Tony in the other room laughing and cooing to the baby. A few minutes later, he carried Charlotte into their room, placing her in the center of the bed and kissing Angela good morning.
"Mmm, g'morning to you too," she said. A loud chirp from the bed drew their attention away from each other and down to Charlotte. "And good morning to my favorite little girl." Angela and Tony lay down on the bed on either side of the baby, talking and giggling as she rolled around and pulled herself onto her knees. At eight months, she was fast discovering that her feet could be used for more than kicking.
Apparently, the revelry in the master bedroom carried to Billy's room, and soon the boy was diving over Tony's legs and bouncing them all around, eliciting excited giggles from his cousin. Together, the four of them laughed and wrestled over the bed until the sheets were a helpless rumple and the comforter was piled on the floor.
When the phone rang, Billy scampered to the nightstand and answered with a loud hello. "Oh, hi Jonathan. Yeah, we're all up ... Okay, I'll tell them. Bye."
"Tell us what?" Tony inquired.
"Jonathan and Melissa will be here in an hour."
"What?!" Angela shrieked. "It's only seven o'clock. Why are the coming so early?"
"Oh Angela, calm down," Tony chided. "They just want to get settled. So," he said, grabbing hold of her ankle as she moved to get off the bed, "you — can — just — stay — right — here" he said, punctuating each word by using her leg to pull her toward him.
"Eww, gross," Billy cried when Angela rolled over to kiss Tony. In response, they both tackled him, Angela holding Charlie up so that she didn't get trampled as Billy tried to wiggle free of Tony's tickling hands.
As tempting as it was to take the phone off the hook and spend the day exactly as they were, there was no denying that Jonathan was getting married the next day, and there was still a lot to do. So regretfully, Angela charged Tony with getting the kids breakfast while she showered and got dressed. When the front door opened at eight-thirty and Melissa and Jonathan walked in, the Micelli house was ready.
Most of the day was spent getting everyone settled. The house was busier than Grand Central Station as Mona moved her things over – all six bags worth – and Mrs. Rossini arrived. Neither woman was pleased to learn they would be sharing a room, which caused Tony and Angela to exchange a devilish smile. While it wasn't exactly intentional, they both found a certain poetic justice to the necessary arrangement. If nothing else, the endless sparring would provide much needed comic relief from the pressure of the day. On the other hand, the bickering could very well result in one of them sleeping in the garage.
Melissa's parents arrived at two, bringing with them enough clothes, both casual and formal, to dress for a month. Mona's apartment looked like the second floor of Bloomingdale's, complete with cosmetics and jewelry counters. Sam and Hank stopped by with the baby, just as Angela, Melissa, and Maureen Randall sat down to start wrapping Jordan almonds into 200 puffs of tulle.
Angela looped a ribbon around yet another bundle of tulle and almonds, wondering again how this tedious task had gotten overlooked until the day before the wedding.
Marueen must have been thinking the same thing when she broke the silence that the group of women had fallen into as they concentrated on tying tiny, perfect bows. "Angela, don't you have any interns at your agency you could have pawned this off on," she said with a weary smile.
"I tried, but after I made them fold the programs for the ceremony and stuff the invitation envelopes with little cards with directions to the chapel, they threatened to quit. This really would have put them over the edge."
"I'm surprised the fiasco with the invitations didn't put you over the edge," Mona chimed in with a pointed look at her daughter.
"Oh good grief, I'd forgotten about that. Thank you, Mother."
"What? What fiasco? I don't remember anything being wrong with the invitations," Sam inquired, and everyone looked at Angela.
"Oh it was nothing. Just me being nit-picky ..."
"As usual," Mona and Sam said in unison, sending everyone into a round of laughter, except Angela, whose face suddenly deepened to scarlet.
"It was a legitimate concern," Angela cried in her own defense.
"Yeah right," Mona replied.
"Well is anyone going to fill me in?" Sam asked, "How come you didn't say anything about it?" she said to her soon-to-be sister-in-law, who she had come to be very good friends with as they talked over bridesmaids dresses and ceremony music.
"I forgot," Melissa said innocently. "Besides, it really wasn't a big deal. Angela just wasn't sure how the invitation should be worded."
"How hard could that be?" Now it was Sam's turn to be innocent, since her hasty marriage to Hank had eliminated the need to fuss over such details as invitation wording.
"Well, traditionally, the invitation is extended by the bride's parents, but because this was such a joint effort, I thought the invitation should come from both families," Maureen began.
"Well that sounds fair," Sam said.
Angela picked up there and in one breath explained the while situation: "It was fair, and very generous," she added with an appreciative look to Maureen. "And then I started thinking about whether it should be formal, with Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Micelli and Mr. and Mrs. Peter Randall, or semi-formal with Anthony Micelli and Angela Bower and their first and last names, or if Jonathan and Melissa's name should go first since they are the bride and groom. And the planning books offer so many choices. I just didn't want them going with the tried and true if there was something more interesting. And then Melissa asked whether Michael's name should be on it, and Jonathan said no, just Tony's. And I use Bower just as much, if not more than, Micelli, so I thought maybe I should go by that name even though Micelli is legal. It was just a mess that I kept making worse."
"Wow, that is nitpicky," Sam said dryly.
"I know," she said sheepishly, "but I couldn't help it."
"Well, what did you decide on? Micelli is your legal name, so why not just use that?"
"Because I still use Bower professionally, and you know how many people only know me as that. And it is Jonathan's last name, too."
Maureen chimed in with, "And there was a part of me that didn't like the men getting their name on the invitation when we did all the work. If anything, it should have said "Mrs. and Mr. Marueen Randall!"
"Oh God, don't let Dad hear you say that," Sam interrupted.
"Why not, he's not that old-fashioned, is he?"
"No, but he had his fill of being Mr. Angela Bower before they were even married. Remember that, Angela?"
Angela closed her eyes and nodded her head with silent laughter, the memory flooding back. Angela shook with continuous laughter that infected the whole table as Sam regaled them with Tony's pre-marital insecurity, complete with well-timed tidbits from Mona.
"He really got mail to Mr. Angela Bower?!" Melissa and Maureen were nearly doubled over, and everyone had forgotten the almonds.
"Yep, from Ed McMahon," Angela managed between fits of giggles.
Conversation dissolved again into laughter until Sam finally remembered the reason for the conversation, and asked about the conclusion to the invitation debate. "I got one, and can't even remember what it said!"
Angela retrieved an extra invitation from the drawer behind her and handed it to Sam to read, which she did, aloud.
"The Randall, Micelli, and Bower Families request the honor of your presence at the marriage of Melissa Ann Randall and Jonathan Michael Bower on Saturday the thirtieth of August … that just about covers it, doesn't it?" Sam concluded.
"Yeah, it worked for everyone," Melissa said.
Just then, Tony entered the kitchen and announced everyone had exactly two hours to be ready for the rehearsal, which put the women into a frenzy of wrapping and tying as they worked their way through the last hundred bundles of tulle.
And as an added surprise, Hank's parents knocked on the door just as everyone was leaving the house. It was nothing less than a typical Bower-Micelli event.
Even with everything ready for the next day, there wasn't a person in the group able to relax. After the rehearsal and dinner, everyone piled into the living room to allow the constant conversation to burn away the restless energy that persisted despite the late hour. Sleep was not going to come easily, despite the exhaustion that plagued everyone by the time the last good night was said.