AN1: This week's chapter is 99.9% written by TerryJ (ffnet/u/391966), author of the amazing series "I have your back, you have mine..." and has been a huge help in this series for me. So that's the good news. The bad news is that you're stuck with my writing next week, although I think what I have should be a fun twist on Sunday Dinner. If you ever have an idea or a chapter you want to add, please feel free to DM me. :)
"Bum, bumdity-da, da-de, da, bumpity, da, daaa…"
Frank Reagan hummed and sang to himself as he dropped the coffee grounds into the filter. He flicked a few stray grains off his slacks and tapped his fingers on the counter, continuing to hum as the warm aroma began to grow.
The sound of the back-patio door unexpectedly slapping open had him jumping in a way he rarely had over the course of his life.
"Morning!" Linda called entering the kitchen, a heavy-laden crockpot in her hands. She paused, looking over her father-in-law with a raised eyebrow, "Slow start this morning?"
A flash of self-conscious discomfort crossed Frank's face as he stood in front of her in his bare feet, khakis, and exposed torso, "Uh. Somewhat."
Linda shrugged and moved to put the slow cooker on the counter and clear the way to the outlet. "That's good Frank; you don't sleep enough."
"Right." He shifted back and glanced in the direction of the stairs before looking back to Linda, attempting to casually cross his arms over his chest. "You're here early."
Linda looked over her shoulder as she continued to fiddle with the timer of the cooker, "Didn't Danny tell you? He had an overnight tour up in East New York so I thought we'd come to church with you and Pop here in Brooklyn." Finishing setting the dinner to cook, she turned back to face him, wiping her hands, "Where's Henry?"
"Uh…" Frank swallowed his wince, looking back to the stairs, "He went to Atlantic City with his RDNY pals. I was going to meet him at the church."
"Oh." Linda tilted her head, "You want to ride with the boys and I? They're playing Gameboy in the car; we were going to stop at Stevie's for a quick breakfast but we can wait for you to get ready."
He rolled his lips, glancing to the side again, "Um, well…"
"Frank?!" A feminine voice came from the front hall, causing Linda's head to swivel in the direction of the stairs while Frank's eyes clenched closed.
"Did you hear me say no sugar?...Oh." Melanie stepped into the kitchen, stopping as she noticed Frank wasn't alone.
"Hello." She greeted, her confidence and affect not acknowledging there was anything unusual about her presence nor the fact she was dressed only in a red robe that was conspicuously too big for her.
Linda bit her lip, holding back a wide grin. "Hello, Ms. Maines, it's wonderful to finally meet you."
"Finally?" Melanie raised an eyebrow at Frank.
He exhaled through his nose, his shoulders caving, "Melanie, Linda. Linda is my son Danny's wife."
"Ahh." Melanie nodded, gesturing for Frank to pour a mug of the coffee, "Well, it's good to meet another member of the family."
"Danny mentioned he worked your case last year." Linda nodded, "I'm so glad that incident didn't turn you off New York for good." She smirked in Frank's direction.
Melanie followed her gaze and her lips turned up amorously, "The city continues to have some appeal…"
Frank cleared his throat and busied himself with the coffee.
"Something wrong Frank?" Melanie grinned at him.
"Nope. No. Nothing." He handed over the coffee and stepped back in the direction of the doorway, "I'm going to get dressed and head to church with Linda and the boys. Take your time; no one should be back here before noon, just flip the lock on the back door when you head out."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Linda stepped forward, looking between the two paramours.
"Linda…" Frank warned, his jaw tensing.
She ignored him, focusing on Melanie, "You should join us for dinner. I'm making my grandmother's chicken cacciatore and there's plenty of it." She smiled warmly.
"Oh, well, I don't know…" Melanie looked over her shoulder to Frank who was standing in the doorway readjusting his arms.
"Why not?" Linda pushed, "Do you have a flight to catch? We eat early on Sundays, you'd have plenty of time to catch anything that's out of JFK after 6."
Frank straightened, "I don't think Melanie wants to subjugate herself to all of that."
"I don't?" She raised her eyebrows, "Since when do you know what I want to do?"
He rolled his eyes, "Melanie…"
"Are you afraid of me meeting your family?" She cut him off.
"What?" Frank blinked, "I didn't say…No….I just meant…"
Linda raised her eyebrows smirking at the inarticulate stammering.
Melanie bit the inside of her lip and considered Linda for a beat, "I suppose thanks to your husband my presence wouldn't be too much of a surprise to the rest of the family?"
Linda's smirk turned into an encouraging smile and she stepped forward, "It will be fine. Seriously."
Melanie leaned back against the counter, sipping her coffee, eyes landing back on Frank. He stared blankly back and her eyes narrowed. He gave a miniscule shrug.
After a protracted silence, she put the mug down and smiled broadly at Linda.
Frank exhaled, "Okay. Well. Then. Okay…."
"120 seconds to change your mind about this." Frank announced as he entered the kitchen, pulling off his jacket.
Melanie looked up from where she had been writing at the table. "100 seconds for you to honestly tell me you're uncomfortable with this."
"Would it change anything if I were?" He countered.
She shut her laptop and stood, "Not likely." She smiled, approaching him and reaching up to stroke the side of his face.
He grimaced in resignation, though his eyes were warm as they stood toe to toe.
The front door opened and the thumping sounds of children's feet careened through the hall. Frank stiffened and took a step back, "Here we go." He muttered.
"What'd your mother tell you about running in the house?" Danny shouted from the front entrance.
"We want to ask Grandpa if we can watch the game!" Jack shouted back.
"Go ahead." Frank gestured to the sunroom and the boys stampeded through, not stopping to notice the stranger in the kitchen.
Melanie raised an eyebrow and he just shrugged, checking his watch then opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of beer.
"Sorry about that, Dad..." Danny stopped mid-stride, immediately registering that they weren't alone in the room.
"This is what had Linda all buzzy and texting Erin this morning." He mumbled mostly to himself.
"Buzzy? What do you mean buzzy?" Linda brushed past, moving to inspect the contents of her crockpot, "I'm just excited to have a guest at dinner."
"Uh-huh." Danny glanced to his father, gesturing with his hand as he pieced together the events leading up to the moment, "Pops had that thing down the shore last night, right?"
"Danny…" Frank warned.
"Understood, Sir." He held up a hand and looked to Melanie, taking in a deep breath, "Nice to see you again Ms. Maines."
"You too, Detective." She smiled tightly.
Danny lips firmed into a grimacing grin and he nodded, standing in the center of the kitchen for a beat, rocking on his feet and looking between his father and his guest.
"Okay, so I'm going to need one of those…" He pointed to the beer in his father's hand.
Frank stepped away from where he had been leaning against the refrigerator door and Danny retrieved a dark bottle, twisting off the top. He gestured to the sun room, "And I think I'll go watch the game with the boys."
The back-porch door banged open as Danny was leaving the room,
"I don't get what the rush is." Henry grouched.
"I'm not rushing, Grandpa." Erin defended, entering the kitchen and pausing in the doorway, scanning the room. Her eyes immediately located the non-Reagan, her broad smile speaking to her anticipation.
Henry came in behind her, pausing and taking note of the guest with a purse of his lips, "Aha."
He glanced to his son, "Mhrm." He huffed with a shake of his head, a knowing smile pulling up for a beat before he turned back to Melanie with his most charismatic smile, "Ms. Maines, what a pleasant surprise."
Whatever tension she had used to brace herself relaxed in the face of the older man's charm, "You must be Henry."
She extended a hand and if possible his grin grew wider, "I am." He glanced to Frank, "But don't believe anything you may have heard about me."
"Nothing but good things." She assured.
"Mhrm…" Henry snorted.
Erin stepped forward, hand extended to catch a shake as soon as Henry stepped back, "I'm Erin."
"Of course." Melanie nodded, "Nice to meet you." She looked over Erin's shoulder, "And you must be Nicky?"
Nicky looked up, head tilted, eyes narrowed, "Aren't you a reporter?"
Melanie nodded, "I am."
Nicky looked up to her grandfather whose eyes were focused on his beer bottle. She looked back to Melanie, "You're joining us for dinner?"
"She is." Frank confirmed, pressuring the inside of his cheek.
Nicky frowned back at him, "I thought you hate reporters."
"Is that so, Commissioner?" Melanie bit her lips, unsuccessfully trying to smother her amusement.
"I don't hate all reporters." He tried, "Ms. Maines isn't local."
"Right." Linda interrupted, grabbing a bag from Erin and pressing a bowl of lettuce and salad tongs into her hands, "She's a friend of your Grandfather's and I invited her to stay for dinner since she's in town."
"That makes more sense." Henry nodded, pulling out a basket and a loaf of Italian bread.
"What's that mean?" Frank looked up.
Henry tilted his head, "It means, if left to your own devices, it's not likely Ms. Maines would be joining us this afternoon...Or ever."
Frank huffed and took a sip of his drink.
"Did you offer the lady something or you just going to leave our guest fend for herself?" Henry reprimanded.
"I've got wine." Erin interrupted. "Melanie; white or red?"
By the time dinner was on the table the three ladies and Henry had finished the first bottle of wine and the anecdotes and laughter were pumping from the kitchen.
"Dinner's being served!" Erin leaned into the sun room, pulling the attention of the rest her family who had escaped to celebrate* over the Yankees / Sox game.
"Where's Uncle Jamie?" Sean asked following his father in to the dining room.
"And who's that?" Jack asked pointing to Melanie who was still sharing a laugh with Linda.
"He's on his way." Danny assured Sean, "And this is Melanie."
"She's going to sit there?" Nicky asked, watching Erin put a new chair between herself and Frank.
"Melanie?" Jack repeated.
"Of course." Erin shrugged.
"Is that the lady Mom was talking about in the car?" Sean looked up to his father.
"Don't worry about it." Danny patted his son on the head, "Sit down." He stepped around his youngest and took his seat.
Melanie blinked at the cross chatter. Frank tilted his head, watching her.
She pulled on a smile and waived at Jack and Sean, "Hi boys." She hesitated behind the chair and turned her attention to Nicky, "I'm sorry, did you want to sit here instead?"
"No." Nicky shook her head, "I was just surprised."
"And why is that?" Melanie asked, sitting down.
Nicky shrugged, "Gramma used to sit between Mom and Grampa."
Melanie's mouth opened and the rest of the table looked down at their plates, shifting awkwardly.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late." Jamie announced entering from the front door and tossing his jacket aside. "Would have been here a while ago but made a felony collar 20 minute before the end of tour. Vinny's stillfinishing the paperwork."
He dropped into his chair, not noticing everyone's attention on him.
He unfolded his napkin on his lap and looked at his niece, "Nick, can you move over a little?"
"No can do, Uncle Jamie." She looked at him pointedly.
He frowned for a beat, looking around her and finally noticing there was a 4th chair on their side of the table, "Oh, Hi, I'm sorry…" he leaned forward and then pulled back, "You're Melanie Maines!" He blinked stupidly.
"And you must be the Harvard grad." She smiled back.
The previous tension broke and the family chucked.
Jamie shook his head, "I'm sorry, it's just I'm used to seeing you on the TV on every Friday night, didn't expect you at the dinner table."
"You're on TV?" Sean sat up.
Melanie didn't reply to him as she pinned Frank with a look, "Every Friday night?"
He rolled his eyes, "Some. Not every."
"Every Friday night I've come by." Jamie corrected.
"Me too." Contributed Erin with a smirk.
"Come to think of it," Henry's eyes were dancing as he painted his son into a corner, "Any Friday you've been home before 9, CNN's been on the television."
Frank rolled his eyes.
Jamie shook his head, smiling, "It's a great to meet you, I've been a fan ever since you did that story on Bear Sterns." He looked to his father with incredulity, "Dad, all those Fridays I came over after Syd and I broke up and you never mentioned you knew Melanie Maines?!"
"Gawd, Kid, just let it drop…" Dannie pleaded under his breath, pinching at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
Melanie didn't hear Danny, she tilted her head, grin growing, "Yeah Frank, you never mentioned?"
He shifted in his seat, mouth opening then closing.
"It's okay." Melanie straightened, releasing him from their teasing. She pat his hand, "It's actually kind of sweet that you watch and manage to refrain from sending me an argumentative email every week."
Jamie and Nicky's eyes both zeroed in on Melanie's hand movement and their brows furrowed in an identical manner, Jamie's head tilting, "So….Melanie, you never did say what brought you by today andhow you know my Dad?"
Frank glared at his youngest and Danny made an exaggerated cough into his hand, "Alright! Who's saying grace?"
"I think it's probably your turn Francis." Henry grinned from across the table.
Frank redirected his glare from his son to his father and the two shared a silent exchange.
"Alright." Frank finally relented, still glaring at the other end of the table as he put his hands together in front of him.
Melanie looked around the room and quickly mimicked the motion.
"Bless us, oh Lord for these gifts we are about to receive from thy bounty, Amen."
"Amen." The table echoed, "…Amen" Melanie a beat late.
"Moooom…" Sean picked up a piece of asparagus with his hands, "Melanie didn't cross herself."
"Shush." Linda quieted her son. "Here. Eat your chicken." She dropped some cut pieces on his plate.
For a little while the table was focused on the business of passing plates and filling glasses.
"How's Detective Curatola?" Melanie tried to engage Danny who had yet to make eye contact with her.
Danny winced, "Uh, actually Jack took a leave of absence last fall."
Linda gave her husband a glance and silently covered his hand with hers, giving it a squeeze.
He flipped his hand over and returned the grip, "But she's doing well last I talked to her. She moved in with some friends in Jersey and has been doing a few different jobs looking for the right fit."
"Oh, well, I hope she lands on her feet." Melanie nodded.
"Me too." Danny looked at his plate, stabbing the asparagus with unnecessary force.
Jamie frowned, "Wait…How do you know Jackie too?"
Melanie smiled, "Your brother and his partner worked the case last year when my producer hired someone to attempt to assault me with acid."
Jamie frowned, "How'd you end up picking up an attempted assault case, Danny?"
"It was a special request…" Erin smirked around a bite of food, ignoring her father's glare.
"From the Commissioner…." Henry smiled.
"Wait…" Jamie leaned forward, looking around Nicky, at his sister, "You knew about this? For more than a year?"
She shrugged, "If you had used that fancy law degree to become a prosecutor instead of a cop maybe it would have been you Danny went to for a warrant."
Jamie's shoulders stooped, "Am I the only one who didn't know?"
"Didn't know what?" Jack looked up, his glasses falling down his nose.
Nicky huffed, "Not the only one, but apparently not by much" She tossed her napkin on her plate. "I'd like to be excused."
"What's wrong, Nick?" Frank frowned at his granddaughter.
She didn't reply, just glared back at him as she stood from the table, not waiting for permission before she turned and stalked into the kitchen.
Erin winced.
"I'm sorry…" Jamie frowned, "I shouldn't have kept asking questions. I'll go talk to her."
"Wasn't your fault." Frank sighed, pulling his own napkin off his lap, "I'll talk to her."
Jamie blinked, then shrugged, "Yeah, it's not like I have any clue what's going on anyway."
Frank smiled and bounced his eyebrows at Melanie as he stood, "Good luck while I'm gone."
"Stop your worrying Frank," She smirked, "I've dealt with scarier groups than this."
"Boy, you really don't know this family then…" Jamie joked as Frank followed Nicky's path to the kitchen.
The 16-year-old was washing her dish at the sink, her back turned.
Frank buried his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. "What's bothering you, Nicky?"
Nicky wiped at her eyes but didn't turn around, "Are you dating her?"
"What?" Frank's eyebrows rose.
Nicky turned around, revealing red eyes and damp cheeks, "I said; Are. You. Dating. Her?"
Frank frowned and took a few steps forward, coming to a halt at the edge of the island, "Would that be a problem if I were?"
Nicky rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink.
"Nicky..." Frank pushed, "We don't do this. Talk to me. Answer my question."
She shook her head, turning back around, "How could it not be?"
"Not be what? A problem?" Frank didn't move.
Nicky looked down at the embroidered dish cloth in her hand, "What about Gramma?"
Frank took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. He rolled his lips and looked over his granddaughter before his eyes also landed on the embroidery. He took a step and sat on one of the kitchen stools.
"You know I loved your Grandmother; still do." He took the towel from Nicky's hands, his thumb rubbing the hand stitching, "It's been 7 years, 6 months and 8 days since she died and not a day goes by that I don't miss her."
He put the towel down on the counter, patting it with his hand for a moment before he looked back to Nicky, "And no one is ever going to replace her. I'm never going to fall in love like that again." He bit his lip, "But sometimes it's nice to have a friend. I'd like to think your grandmother wouldn't want me to be lonely."
Nicky looked him in the eye, her stance softening, "You're not lonely. You have us."
"I do." He nodded, then shrugged, "But there are somethings I'm not going to talk to my granddaughter about, nor my children or even your great-grandfather."
Nicky frowned.
He looked away, "Sometimes…" He pursed his lips and looked back to Nicky, "Sometimes it's nice to just be 'Frank'. Not 'Dad', or 'Grampa', or 'Francis' or 'Commissioner'."
He frowned at the hurt in Nicky's eyes and he sighed, "Not all the time. Not even very often…but your Grandmother was my partner and my friend and since she's been gone I've missed that." He looked down, "We're all human. Even me. Wanting to have that kind of connection with someone doesn't mean I miss your Grandmother any less."
"And you have that connection with her?" Nicky looked back in the direction of the dining room.
Frank inhaled, nodded and shrugged, "We're friends."
"Just something simple…?" Nicky surmised in a quiet voice.
"Something like that." Frank nodded, "But for the record, we are not dating."
Nicky looked up, "Why not? I thought you liked her."
He smiled, "I do. But she lives in Atlanta and we both work far too much to be anything more than friends who exchange emails and see each other when she happens to be in the city."
Nicky nodded slowly, "Is there anyone who lives closer who you can be friends with?"
"Don't you be worrying about that." Frank shook off her question.
"I want you to be happy…" Nicky looked down, pulling at her fingers.
Frank smiled and leaned forward, pulling her against him, "I am sweat heart; I promise you I am."
Nicky fidgeted for a second before looking down, hesitation in her voice. "Why does Ms. Maines make Uncle Danny so uncomfortable?"
Frank's mustache fluttered as he released a long exhale. "That's just your Uncle Danny proving his immaturity." He pushed back and started to stand, "What'd you say we head back?"
Nicky held her ground, head tilted, "Why is Uncle Danny being immature?"
Frank sighed, "Because boys never grow up. C'mon, let's go."
"But he met her last year, right?" Nicky continued, pouting, "Does he not like her or something?"
Frank rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, "Nick, remember that bit about somethings I'm not likely to talk to my granddaughter about?"
Nicky blinked and frowned, "What? Why not? You said you're not dating…"
Frank winced.
Nicky blinked again and then her eyes widened, "Oh." her face shriveled and crinkled sourly, "Oh...", she repeated herself, turning her face away.
Frank tilted his head, waiting, "You okay?"
She grimaced, "I think you're right;" She nodded, "There are somethings we don't need to talk about."
"Sounds good." He agreed with a wide smile, grabbing a new plate from the shelf. "Now, let's go eat before your cousins get all the garlic bread."
Nicky nodded, letting Frank guide her back.
Melanie was telling Sean and Jack about what television studios were like when Frank and Nicky returned to the table and the rest of the dinner progressed smoothly.
As an investigative reporter, Melanie could hold her own in topics from healthcare, to the law, to the armed forces so the conversation was full and insightful as it circled around everyone at the table.
Eventually, after the coffee had been finished and dessert cookies enjoyed, Melanie looked at her watch and Frank nodded in understanding. He called a cab as she said her good-byes and thanks to the rest of the family.
"I'll walk you out." He offered.
"Always the gentleman." She smirked, following his gesture out the door and down to the driveway.
Hovering by the curb he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet as she looked up at him.
He sighed wistfully and looked to his toes, "This isn't what you want."
She shook her head, "Not now…" She agreed. She frowned and moved to look him in the eye, "But it's not bad."
He picked up his chin, eyes tracing her face, "It didn't diminish anything for you?"
She pulled back, brow furrowing, "What on earth are you talking about?"
Frank shrugged, his hands still in his pockets, "To you I've always been the Police Commissioner; a relatively powerful public figure at who attends Manhattan dinner parties and spends the evening in fancy Mid-Town hotels." He looked to the house, "Not this domestic, homebody, Bayridge grandfather in a cardigan."
Melanie's smiled widened and she rolled her eyes, "First of all, you are still the powerful, New York City Police Commissioner. Not sure what makes you think you ever shut that off."
He huffed, "And second of all?"
"Second," Her smile darkened, and she leaned in wolfishly, "You are the sexiest Grandfather I know…even with your cardigan." She tugged on the edge of the wool sweater.
Frank cleared his throat, dimples deepening and blush rising.
Melanie continued to lean close, hand on his chest, "To be honest, I'm glad I saw this side of you." She shrugged, "I have to admit, I've wondered about 'Frank, The Patriarch.'"
He rolled his eyes and she looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house, "What you have here; this family that's in everyone's business and talks over one another and is simultaneously wary and welcoming of newcomers…that eats together and prays together and laughs together…" She sighed, "I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did."
She looked back to him, "Because I did. I really did, Frank."
She sighed and stepped back, reaching down for his hands, "So no. It's not what I ever thought I wanted. And it's not what I want right now." She pursed her lips, inhaling, "But there's a part of me that's jealous, maybe even regretful that it's not what I have."
She sighed, "Someday, when I'm tired of bad airline food and hotel mattresses and chasing stories that don't want to be chased…maybe I can see myself wanting something like this."
Frank looked her over, waiting a beat, "I certainly won't discourage you."
She looked up with a tilt of her head, "In the meantime, I can continue to call on the Commissioner when I'm in town?"
"I'd hope you would." He smirked, tightening his hold on her hands.
"And you won't read too much into it if I don't come to Sunday dinner every time?" She winced.
"No pressure, no regrets." He echoed the boundaries they had set for themselves with an understanding smile.
She frowned, eyes flicking over his face, "Maybe some regrets."
"No regrets." He repeated. "You love the life you have." He smiled, "It's one of the reasons why I like you."
She sighed and smiled at him, a fond shake of her head, her attention pulled by the approaching taxi.
"But…" He rolled his shoulders back, ignoring the arrival of the car, "The invitation is always open. Any Sunday. There's always room at the table."
She blinked and stood on her toes to plant a kiss on the side of his lips. He moved, deepening it for a moment.
Pulling back he grinned, a spark in his eye, "Alright; Keep chasing those unchasable stories. You'll always know where to find me; I'm not going anywhere."
Melanie's smile faltered and she reached up, wiping away a smudge of her lipstick. Her hand lingered and trailed down to tug lightly at his collar and then lay flat over his heart. "Frank Reagan." She sighed with a shake of her head.
She bit her lip and smiled up to him, "Tell the family next time I'm in town I'll bring the wine and dessert."
AN2 - * - Theeeeeeee Yaaaankkkkkeeeeessssss Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiin! Right, Terry? Mwahahahahahahaha