21
Tony looked at his two daughters. He beamed at them with pride. He loved to go on little excursions with them once in a while; just the three of them. They would take the ferry to Ellis Island and have a look at the Statue of Liberty, or watch a ballgame at Citi Field. He would take them out to the movies and pizza afterward, or to a Broadway show followed by a fancy dinner. Today, they had spent the day at the old neighborhood, had paid Mrs. Rossini a short visit, trying to keep her from feeding them a veal cutlet with vegetables and mashed potatoes - in vain. To wrap the whole day up, Tony took his girls to the roof garden of a nice little Italian restaurant before they returned home and treated each one of the desserts the pastry chef of the place was so famous for.
Samantha ordered zabaglione, and Lynnie couldn't resist the cannoli she loved so much, but her father was incapable of doing right. He could make the most delicious Italian dishes, and that included desserts, could bake mouth-watering cakes and cookies, but his cannoli never tasted the way they should.
Tony observed Sam and Lynnie as they savored their respective delicacies. Sam had a glass of prosecco along with it, Lynnie a San Pellegrino Limonata, a famous Italian lemonade. Tony had ordered an Italian beer. It tasted so much better than the American brands, but it also was much stronger.
His eyes traveled from one girl to the other and back. They couldn't be any more different.
Samantha was petite, her fine facial features were framed by the shiny brunette hair of her elegant bob. She had inherited the olive skin and dark brown eyes from both her parents. Her lashes were long and perfectly done. A light lipstick accentuated her lips, matching the polish on her manicured nails and her feminine wardrobe. She wore a cute, tight black skirt with white polka dots and a white blouse. She was elegantly leaning back in her chair, her hands resting on her crossed legs.
Lynnie obviously was the younger of the two sisters. Whereas Sam moved and talked like a woman, she fidgeted around and babbled like a teenager - well, she was a teenager. She had tamed her wavy long blond hair in a ponytail. Her bright blue eyes were brought off by her light complexion. Tony couldn't see so much of his looks in her face, but she had an athletic appearance just like himself. The many years of playing soccer on a competitive level had strengthened her body. She was tall for her age, had muscular legs and broad shoulders for a girl. If not told otherwise, she would wear some sporty shorts and a comfortable shirt every day, mostly from some kind of sports label. But today she had chosen some casual slacks, a blue polo shirt from the U-17 youth team's outfitter, and a pair of sneakers. Tony was glad she had taken off the shinguards and soccer socks she had worn this morning for practice. Lynnie was sitting comfortably with her legs apart - not very womanly, unlike her sister.
Looking at his offspring, Tony wondered what kind of a child Angela and he would've gotten - if they had been blessed with one. Probably a redhead with curly hair, green eyes, and freckles. Mona's genes might have come through, following Mendel's law of skipping a generation. He took a deep breath. He would never forgive himself for having let Angela's childbearing years lapse away because of a relationship which had always meant to be more than just a friendship and a marriage which had mainly existed in name only. They would've made gorgeous children, and Tony would've loved to co-parent a baby with Angela.
They would be able to make up for the loss partly with their grandchildren one day although he knew that he would spoil them rotten instead of disciplining them. But that was what grandparents were entitled to do. With Alex, they would carry on the tradition of caring for an adopted child, but Tony also hoped for Sam to find her Mr. Right in the not too distant future she would start her own family with. And in a few years time, Lynnie would also start dating seriously. He almost choked at the thought.
"Dad, are you going to give a speech at Jonathan's wedding?" Sam asked, now that her plate was emptied. "As his long-term fatherly friend?"
"Better not. It's Michael's privilege. He's the groom's father." He pursed his lips.
"I bet he doesn't really know what to say. He hardly knows Jonathan."
"Hmmm, I'd knew exactly what to say." Tony looked down on his hands absentmindedly.
"You'd made us all cry, Dad!" Lynnie interjected.
"One thing is certain, my dear daughters, no one will keep me from delivering a heart-warming and tear-jerking speech at your weddings."
Tony grinned, but Sam's next remark instantly erased the grin from his face.
"If I ever get married," she said, gulped down the last sip of her prosecco, and waived the waiter to bring her another glass.
"What do you mean if you ever get married? Of course, you will!"
"How can you be so sure, Dad? I'm not!"
"You're a wonderful person, Samatha. The man who eventually leads you to the altar is a lucky man!"
"And where is this man? Huh? Any idea where I can find him?"
"I don't need a man," Lynnie once again threw in just like that. "Only if he's also a soccer player. We could both go to Europe and play professionally. Maybe in Italy or England. Or Germany. Women's soccer is very successful there. It's called football. Which makes kind of sense because we play the ball with the foot."
"Are you crazy? That's much too far away!" Tony pressed his right hand on his chest as if the mere thought of his daughter migrating to another continent made his heart arrest.
"But, Dad! Men's soccer is much more professional over there than it is here. My husband will earn a lot of money."
"Your husband? What husband?" Tony gasped.
"Dad! Relax!" Sam was glad that her sister had drawn the attention away from her. "She's talking about an imaginary husband. I don't think she's secretly engaged and planning to elope to Germany."
Lynnie giggled.
"Waiter! Grappa, please! Make it a double!"
The weeks after Jonathan's proposal were filled with a frenzy of activity. Angela, in particular, was sedulous as a bee. Because her own recent wedding had been rather small and intimate, she enjoyed planning a lavish event. Half her staff was involved. If Tessa hadn't kept an eye on business, the agency would've suffered from a remarkable slump, for Angela was so focussed on her son's wedding that she hardly participated in the daily business anymore. That she had always hired only the best people paid off now.
Emily's parents hadn't been sure what to think of their daughter's wedding plans.
On the one hand, they were glad that she would be cared for in a decent relationship with a reliable man. In their eyes, having been knocked up by a second-class football player had signified her lack of judgement when it came to finding herself the right person to go through life with. But they had gotten to know Jonathan as a polite and well-educated young man with good manners who obviously even forgave their daughter her indiscretion with whatshisface. So they were very pleased with Emily's choice; or you could say rather thankful to Jonathan for having chosen her.
On the other hand, there was his family. Although the family history of the Bowers, Micellis, and Robinsons had been given to them only in homeopatic doses at a time, they had more than once swallowed down what they thought of what they heard. Once in a while, you had been able to literally read from their faces that they had to bite their lips in order to not make a sarcastic or judgemental comment. Mona, on her part, loved to push them to the limits.
"Helen, did you know that Tony and Angela have once been caught by a camera team together in their nightwear? I think it was in Tony's first year here, wasn't it, Dear?" Mona's smug grin betrayed the innocence in her voice.
"Mother!" Angela shot her a glaring look. If looks could kill, she'd be an orphan.
Helen, Emily's mother, straightened her back and looked at her husband struck with horror. "I beg your pardon?"
"Look, it wasn't what it seems like," Angela started to defend herself. But no matter how hard she tried to explain what had happened that night and how they had ended up in front of Bobby Barnes' camera in a live coverage the following morning, leaving the impression they had spent the night together, Helen didn't show the slightest sign of comprehension.
Maybe it was too much to ask for anyway. How could someone who had not experienced it, understand what their relationship had been like? It had been unique, unorthodox, matchless, crazy, bizarre, and unconventional at any rate. It was hardly possible to prove to an outsider's reasonable satisfaction that both Tony and Angela - and even Mona - had always stood on decency and propriety. Their conduct, however weird and unbelievable it seemed to others, had never been morally offensive.
Of course, Mona had a different opinion of what was 'morally offensive' and what wasn't. Or more specifically, she didn't care so much whether other people thought her behavior was morally offensive. She would've loved if Tony and Angela had acted morally offensive more often in their early years than they actually had. And because she found great joy in upsetting others, she took every opportunity which came her way to tell Jonathan's future uptight and bourgeois parents-in-law an anecdote of the frustrating Tony-and-Angela-years before they had gotten together. Helen seemed to be the kind of woman who kept a small bottle of smelling salt in her purse, and Mona tried her very best to make her take it out.
Helen had been so piqued a few days earlier when Mona had dropped a remark about the night Tony and Angela had spent at a motel near Jonathan's summer camp, dressed in nothing but bedsheets, that she decided to up the ante.
"Milton, say, wouldn't you also be thrilled to see your female boss getting out of the bathtub? Completely naked? I mean, if you had a young, healthy, good-looking female boss. Tony might've enjoyed it even more if his hadn't been so flat-chested."
Mona held her tummy, her body shaken by laughter.
"Angela got wonderful boobs!" Tony blurted out in a reflex.
"Tony!"
Now Angela could've used some smelling salt. She almost fainted because of her mother's ineffable gossip, and even more so because of her husband's awkward attempt to put in a good word for her body - or rather particular parts of it.
"But they are gorgeous, Babe! Like small, firm, juicy app-"
He held out his hands in front of Angela's upper body, as if cupping the 'apples' he had just been picturing, then he suddenly became sorely aware that they weren't alone in their bedroom but downstairs in the living room, having quite an audience.
"I don't believe this!" Angela muttered, pacing through the room, massaging her temples.
Helen pinched her husband's arm with one hand, putting the other over her mouth. Silence had fallen onto the setting. Milton couldn't help but stare at Angela's breasts who instantly crossed her arms in front of them. Emily's jaw dropped and a stifling cry could be heard. Tony blushed, and Angela looked as if she was going to kill both her mother as well as her husband. Her face was red like Tony's, but not from feeling awkward like he, but from being so angry. She simply was too angry to be embarrassed.
Mona, on her part, was observing the whole scene with a great deal of satisfaction now. She loathed uptightness, and even more so bigotry. And the lustful stare of Emily's father combined with the hypocritical consternation of her mother showed so well that even the so-called upper class, the people who elevated themselves above others, who claimed to be able to control themselves any time, had a proclivity for raunchy details when it came to other people's lives.
Making fun of Tony and Angela, turning their yearslong to-ing and fro-ing game into ridicule, sure was one reason for Mona's selected little tales. On the other hand, she wanted to expose the alleged perfection of Helen and Milton Campbell as a myth. They were slaves to their feelings and underlying desires like anyone else. Milton, who had almost imitated Tony's gesture defining the size of Angela's breasts had he not promptly hidden his hands behind his back, was the best example. Instead of only bewilderment, one had been able to see fascination in his eyes as well as the wish to hear more; and probably even the wish to have the sensation of small, firm, juicy 'apples' in his hands himself once again.
But Mona wasn't willing to give him what he wanted. Neither were Tony and Angela understandably.
Angela wanted her son's inlaws to understand that Jonathan had been raised in a household full of friendship, trust, and love, no matter how uncommon the structure of their family had been. It had taken a while, but after having spent several evenings together, Milton and Helen relaxed and started to understand the particular quality of Tony and Angela's relationship. Even more so as they noticed the devotion and love their marriage was full of now.
So, the Micellis and the Campbells eventually made friends with each other, much to the joy of Jonathan and Emily. One evening, Emily's parents had been invited to Oak Hills Drive for a homemade dinner, Tony brushed away the very last resentments with his delicious chocolate cake, the one with the molten core. Helen literally fell on her piece of cake, scarfing the first followed shortly by a second serving, picking the last crumbs from her plate and licking her lips in delight.
"Tony," she eventually breathed, "someone who's able to produce such a delicacy can't be a bad person."
She raised her glass, elbowed her husband in the side, and brought out a toast.
"To Jonathan, Emily, and Alex. Milton and I are pleased with our daughter's choice. May their marital bond last eternally and may we as parents unite in guiding them through the ups and downs of the holy state of matrimony."
'This woman is nothing compared to Miss Stick-in-butt of 1984,' flashed through Tony's mind, 'But like her, she melts like butter in my hands as soon as I serve my chocolate cake!'
He secretly squeezed Angela's hand under the table and answered, "We love your daughter, too. And your grandson."
From this night forward, nothing and no one stood in the way of a harmonic expansion of the Bower-Micelli-Robinson family.