Ch 26 – Eye on Angela
At first, Sam was afraid of uncovering her ears. What if she heard something from the next room? But it was simply impossible to fall asleep like this.
First she took one hand away, then the other, hardly daring to breathe. She heard … nothing. Against her better judgment, Sam tiptoed over to the wall that her room shared with Angela's and pressed one of her ears to it. Still: nothing.
But then! She was half-prepared to hightail it back into bed when she realized what it was. Her dad – snoring. Sam shook her head. How could Angela stand to be lying next to him when he made those noises?
Back in their old apartment in Brooklyn, she had sometimes marched out into the living room where her dad slept on the old fold-out sofa and pummeled him with her pillow in a blind, sleep-deprived rage. Luckily, the walls in Angela's house were a lot thicker. At the other end of her room, away from the wall, Sam didn't hear him anymore.
She got back under the covers and stared at the ceiling. So her dad and Angela were really … doing it? Not right now, thankfully. In general. In this house. The thought felt foreign, even though it was what she had wished would happen for so many years. Not sex, specifically! She didn't want to think too deeply about that aspect. But a relationship. It just seemed so surreal, after all this time.
Sam turned over onto her side. It was too dark to see the picture that she knew was there, on her nightstand. She and her mom on Christmas morning, in front of the tree by the big window. Her dad had taken it on the last Christmas they spent together as a family of three. Not that she remembered. He had told her about it. Her mom was already sick by then, but they still had hope, he said. That chemotherapy, followed by an operation, would cure her.
It didn't.
Sam had forgotten the sound of her mother's voice. No matter how hard she tried, the memory was gone. If she had ever had it at all. Every once in a while, something would remind her of life with her mom. Certain dishes her dad made, like linguine alle vongole. Christmas cookies. A teacher's perfume. The way Angela sometimes stroked her hair. How her dad looked at Angela when he thought nobody was watching.
Her mom would have liked Angela.
And Sam was certainly glad to have her in her life. Yes, her dad had always coped okay with … things. When he had to. He had managed to buy her her first bra, for example, although it took him two attempts to get the right one. But it had been much easier, and a lot less embarrassing, to talk to someone about periods who had them herself.
This reminded her of the pregnancy tests in Angela's bathroom drawer. She had almost blabbed to Bonnie on the phone tonight. Sam turned onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. It was hard to be the only one who knew about this.
ooooooooo
On Thursday morning, she tried to be at breakfast early. When she came into the kitchen, her dad and Angela were already there, Angela in her usual place at the table and her dad – as always – at the stove, scrambling eggs.
A plate with an untouched piece of toast sat on the table in front of Angela, next to her coffee and juice. "How come you're having breakfast?" Sam asked, trying to sound neutral.
Angela blinked. "It's better for you, isn't it?"
"Sure is," Sam agreed. "So, you finally got her, huh, Dad?"
"What?" He turned to look at her, his eyes wide.
"Angela is having breakfast. Only took you a couple of years."
"Oh, that. Yeah. Well, you know. Slow and steady wins the race." He laughed, but it sounded forced.
"Sam, honey, I'm glad you're coming back to work today," Angela said before taking a microscopic bite of toast.
"Me too, Angela. And I'm sorry I reacted like that yesterday. You're so busy, and I took things personally that I really shouldn't have."
Angela smiled, and Sam thought that it almost looked as if she was starting to tear up. "I'm sorry too, Sam. It's been quite the week, and I didn't pay you as much attention as I should have. I didn't mean to shout at you, and to stand you up for lunch. Will you give me a second chance tomorrow? Let's try again with the Russian Tea Room."
"I would love that." Sam meant what she said.
"Oh, I'm so happy you two made up!" her dad gushed. "Here are your eggs."
"Daaad," Sam said as he handed her a plate. He was always so emotional. "Thank you."
Breakfast continued uneventfully. Things only got more interesting once Sam, Mona, and Angela got on the train to the City.
They were lucky today in that they found three seats together, one in the direction of travel and two rear-facing. The fourth seat was occupied by some guy in a suit who was asleep sitting up.
"So," Mona said as soon as she sat down next to Sam, "how are you ladies doing this morning?"
Sam shrugged. "Fine."
Angela smiled tightly. "I'm fine too, thank you, Mother."
"Did you and Tony get all your shopping done yesterday?" There was a mischievous sparkle in Mona's eyes that Sam recognized immediately. Was she angling for something here?
"Most of it." Angela looked uncomfortably from Mona to Sam and back again. "Why?"
"Because I didn't see you carry anything into the house last night."
Angela sighed. "What were you doing spying on us from the garage apartment?"
"Can't a person look out of their window at night?"
"Of course a person- of course you can. We're having the presents delivered, if you must know."
"Ah," Mona said, "finally getting Jonathan that pony he's been asking for since he was five, huh?"
"Something like that." Then Angela turned her head to look past the sleeping guy and out of the window, letting Mona know that this conversation was over.
After a little while, Sam spoke up. "Angela? Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did you talk to Dad about Eric and me going ice skating tomorrow night?"
Angela's eyes went wide, and Sam was sure that she had forgotten about it again. But what Angela said next came as a surprise.
"Yes! Actually, I did. And he said it's fine. As long as Eric comes by the Agency to pick you up. It doesn't make sense for him to drive all the way out to Fairfield."
"Oh, okay," Sam said, perplexed. "Thank you." This was a first. A boy her dad didn't insist on meeting before allowing him to take her out?
"Eric does sound like a very nice guy."
Sam nodded eagerly. "He is." For the most part.
"So, ice skating under the big tree, huh?" Mona nudged Sam's upper arm with her elbow. "Sounds very romantic."
Sam felt warmth rise to her cheeks. "It was his idea."
"Look who's blushing," Mona laughed. "That's what a real date looks like, Angela. In case you want to give Tony some pointers."
"Mother!" Angela hissed with a curt shake of her head.
"What?" Mona asked innocently. "The poor guy took you to a comedy club, for heaven's sake."
"We put that behind us."
"Did you now?" Mona asked innocently.
"As a matter of fact, yes." Angela glared at Mona.
But Mona didn't care. "Look who else is blushing." She gave Sam another nudge, and they both watched as Angela's cheeks turned from pale to pink.
ooooooooo
At the office, Sam spent the day helping Jack's secretary Sheila and Carrie, the office manager, with final preparations for the Christmas party.
They showed the caterers where to set up their equipment, adjusted holiday decorations, and reminded everybody to clear their desks before the guests arrived. Partners and local clients of the Bower Agency were invited, all in all around sixty people.
Sam didn't see much of Angela as she rushed from one meeting to the next. Finally, five o'clock rolled around. One by one, the employees headed to the restrooms to change, touch up makeup, or fix their hair, and Sam's excitement grew. She loved a good party, no matter the occasion.
The three of them had brought their dresses in bags on the train and hung them on the coat rack in Angela's office.
Sam knocked on her door, hoping she wouldn't be interrupting a phone call or a meeting that was running late. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer, so she opened the door carefully and peered inside, but Angela wasn't at her desk.
"Angela?"
Silence.
Had she missed her coming out of the office?
Sam stepped inside the room and looked around. That was when she saw Angela's foot on the armrest of the small sofa that stood off to the side. She walked around it and there was Angela, lying on her back with her mouth slightly open, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. She was sleeping.
Sam had heard that pregnancy made you tired, and for a moment, she was unsure what to do. The first guests would be arriving shortly. Surely Angela wanted to be awake to greet them?
"Angela?" she asked quietly and touched her shoulder.
Angela stirred and mumbled, "Tony?"
Sam tried again, a little louder this time. "Angela?"
Angela startled and opened her eyes. "Sam! It's you!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes," Angela sputtered. "I was- only resting my eyes. I didn't sleep well last night."
"It's past five. I just wanted to get my dress."
"Yes, yes of course," Angela said and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She put away the pillow and looked down at herself. "I need to change, too." Then she put a hand over her mouth and yawned until Sam heard her jaw crack.
"I'm going to leave you alone, okay?"
"No, no, you can go ahead and get dressed in there if you want," Angela said and pointed at the door that led to her private bathroom. "I need a second." She reached for the water carafe that sat on the coffee table and poured herself a glass.
Sam took her dress and went into the bathroom. Serious guilt was beginning to eat at her for having snooped around in Angela's drawers yesterday. Angela was so kind to her, and she had betrayed her trust in a major way.
When she came back out, Angela was still sitting on the sofa, holding a half-empty glass of water in her hand.
"Your turn." Sam gestured at the open bathroom door.
"Sam, you look lovely," Angela said with a small smile.
"Thank you." Sam looked down at her dress. "We bought this together, remember?"
"Spring sale."
"What are you going to wear?"
"Just some old thing."
Sam sat and waited while Angela changed, and when she came out of the bathroom, she wore a burgundy dress that Sam had seen before. Angela had worn it one Christmas, back when she was still with Geoffrey (with a G). Boy, was she glad that guy was history.
The dress looked lovely, though, and it fit Angela like a glove. Sam snuck a glance at her stomach, but Angela was as slim as always.
"Is something wrong?" she asked when she noticed Sam looking at her.
"Oh, no. Nothing. You look really beautiful."
ooooooooo
"So, let me say this one more time: Thank you very much for a wonderful year full of exciting projects. I look forward to the next one, as does my team here at the Bower Agency. But right now, all of us would like to wish you a Merry Christmas!"
Angela raised her champagne glass and waited for her guests and employees to do the same. When everybody's glasses were up in the air, she said it again: "Merry Christmas!", and the crowd repeated after her, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
Sam took a sip of her ginger ale and placed the glass onto the little table in front of her. She kept her eyes on Angela, who raised her champagne flute to her lips, but didn't seem to drink. When she put it back down, it was still full.
"So," came Mona's voice from behind Sam. "Are you having a good time?"
"Oh, yeah," Sam said, her gaze still fixed on Angela, who had begun talking to a balding man in an ill-fitting suit. "How about you?"
"You know me," Mona chirped. "I make my own fun." Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw Mona down the rest of her champagne. "Never too much, of course."
Sam bit the inside of her cheek. "Hey, Mona? On the train this morning … Why did you bring up Dad and Angela's date?"
"Ah, just for kicks."
"Do you think they'll ever, you know – try again?"
Mona put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. "I actually think they will. Don't ask me when, or how. But my intuition tells me, something's a-brewing."
Sam was still looking at Angela, who was talking to a younger woman now. She held the champagne glass in one hand, and every now and then, she ran the other one down the front of her dress, over her stomach. Something was brewing, alright.
"Do you know something I don't?" Sam asked, a little more daring now.
Mona stepped closer to her. "That depends. Do you?"
"Oh, they're going to kill me," Sam heard herself say, "but I kind of … Well, when I was helping Dad at home yesterday, I changed the sheets on all of our beds. And I sort of- I found something."
"Tell me more."
Sam turned her head until she was almost whispering into Mona's ear. "There was one of Dad's shirts. In Angela's bed. And last night, I stayed up until Dad and Angela came upstairs, and my door wasn't closed, and I saw Dad sneaking into Angela's bedroom."
Mona gasped, looking endlessly amused.
"Please don't tell them I told you!" Sam begged. "But I think I'm going to explode if I don't talk about this."
It was such a relief to have told somebody, at least about the first part of her discovery. There was no way she could ever explain to anyone how she had found the pregnancy tests, so she would have to keep mum about them.
"My lips are sealed," Mona said conspiratorially. "Unlike some other people's." A quiet laugh escaped her.
"Mona, please!"
"Don't worry." Mona patted her back. "In fact, I ran into a little surprise myself yesterday."
"You did?" Sam was careful to keep her voice low and her eyes facing forward again.
"Uh-huh," Mona confirmed. "It would seem that my daughter and your dad are starting to get a little careless."
"What did you see?"
"I walked in on them kissing in the kitchen."
"No way!" Sam said, a lot louder than she had intended. "What!?" she whispered excitedly.
"Well, it's nothing like your scoop. All I saw was a little kiss."
"And did they see you?"
"You bet."
Sam gawked, but Mona just shrugged. "I suppose it was only a matter of time."
"What did they say?"
"They admitted everything. Game over."
"What!? So why haven't they told us yet? And what do you mean, 'everything'?" Did Mona know about the baby, too?
"Come on," Mona said and put a hand on the small of Sam's back, leading her into one of the empty offices.
She closed the door behind them and took a seat in the visitor chair while Sam opted for the desk chair.
"Now dish!" Sam said lustily. It felt so good to have someone to compare notes with.
"Well, seeing as I caught them red-handed, so to speak, your dad and Angela were forced to confirm that they are, indeed, 'dating', as they put it. If you ask me, this whole thing has been going on since before Thanksgiving."
"Wait. Are you saying there was no draft on the plane when they came back from St. Louis?"
"Nope," Mona said, shaking her head and grinning broadly. "My 38-year-old daughter had the mother of all hickeys under those scarves."
"Damn. And the date?"
"Well, Angela is a professional storyteller, and she has always had a gift for making up great lies. Only your dad …"
"He's the worst liar."
"Exactly."
"I knew something was fishy about that comedy club story," Sam said, shaking her head. "And when I talked to Angela about her and Dad before I went away for Thanksgiving, she was all 'We'll see … maybe we'll try again …'."
Mona smiled mildly. "Let's cut them some slack, it hasn't been easy for them."
"Because Dad works for Angela?"
"That, and both your dad and Angela have been hurt before. Your dad lost your mom, and Michael wanted to go reenact 'Gorillas in the Mist' instead of being a husband and a father. Although that really wasn't much of a loss."
"So that's why it's been taking them so long? They were afraid that one of them would die or leave?"
Mona inclined her head. "Not exactly. I think most of all, they didn't want to make life difficult for you kids. You've become a family, and if they don't work out-"
"They're gonna work out!" Sam protested.
"Well, you and I know that. Heck, a blind nun would be able to see it! But the two of them were a little slower on the uptake here."
"And now what?"
"We wait until they make it official."
"When is that going to be?"
"I think it's supposed to be a Christmas surprise."
Sam leaned back in her chair. "Boy, there were years when I thought this day would never come."
"Tell me about it." Mona rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
"I wish we could just tell them that it's okay. That they don't have to pretend. I mean, you and I, we're in their corner, right? And remember when Jonathan set them up for dinner on Valentine's Day at that super expensive place, Chez René? He wanted Dad and Angela to get married when he was just a little kid."
Mona winked at her. "I've been around the block a few times, and I don't think this is about us – or you kids – at all. Not anymore. The two of them have to figure some things out, and we are going to let them."
"What … things?" Sam made one more attempt at a fishing expedition, in case Mona knew about the baby, too.
But either she didn't, or she didn't want to talk about it.
"That's between your dad and Angela. You know me, Sam – far be it from me not to pry! But I think in this case, hands-off is really the best approach. When our lovebirds finally decide to tell us, or – well – the two of you … you'll act shocked and surprised, not too little, not too much, and then we can all live happily ever after."
ooooooooo
"My feet are killing me," Angela moaned as she sat down on the sofa in her office.
"I know what you mean." Sam was lounging in Angela's desk chair, having toed off her own kitten heels only minutes ago. They were nowhere near as high as Angela's, but she was glad to be rid of them, too.
It was past ten p.m. The last of the guests had finally left, and catering staff was cleaning and packing up the rest of the food.
Mona had excused herself to help a handsome male guest hail a cab. Or so she had said when she followed him out the door with her coat in her arms and her purse slung over her shoulder.
"Hi, Carrie," Sam heard her dad's voice in the hallway. Then he stuck his head through the half-open door into Angela's office.
"There are my party girls. Your chauffeur has arrived."
"Hey, Dad."
"Hi, Tony," Angela said, her voice all soft and … something else that Sam couldn't name.
"Don't you two look beautiful."
He came in, and immediately Sam could tell that he didn't know what to do with himself. Clearly, he wanted to go sit next to Angela on the sofa.
"I'm going to go and see if Carrie needs any help," Sam said and slipped back into her shoes.
On her way out, she drew the door to Angela's office shut, but the lock didn't catch, and the door ended up standing open a crack. At first, she wanted to be strong and grown-up and keep walking, but after a couple of steps she gave in and stopped to listen.
"Hi, sweetheart," her dad said in a low voice, and to hear him call Angela that felt all kinds of weird. Not bad. Definitely weird, though.
"Hi yourself," came Angela's reply.
"How was the party?"
"I think everybody had a nice time."
"That's good. And how are you feeling?"
"I'm exhausted." Angela paused. "And I'm sorry. About before, on the phone. I shouldn't have told Sam she could go out with that boy. Not without talking to you first. It's just- I promised her that I would, but with everything else …"
"I'm sorry too," he said. "Hey, it's going to be fine. He picks her up here, you take a good look at him, it's the same thing."
Sam's heart started to beat faster. At the same time, the din of the cleanup going on in the other rooms was getting louder, and she had to strain to hear what was being said in Angela's office.
"Are you sure?" Angela asked.
"I'm sure."
"Still, I didn't mean to go behind your back. Sam is your daughter."
"True. Although I'm thinking, maybe it would be a good idea to start making these types of decisions differently. This isn't going to be about 'yours' and 'mine' much longer, is it?"
Then someone somewhere plugged in a vacuum cleaner. But Sam was almost relieved. She had heard enough.