May 1979 – St. Charles, IL

It was a short drive to her in-laws' house, but Angela noticed Michael went a good five miles under the speed limit. He got even slower as he rounded the corner into a truly gorgeous neighborhood. Quiet and vast, she smiled delightedly as they passed each acre-spaced house.

"So, my dad is now an Econ professor at UIC," Michael mentioned.

Angela nodded, "Yes, I remember him saying that at the wedding."

Michael nodded back. "Okay, so I don't know what they told you, but here's a quick run-down: They also own a multi-location office supply store called 4 Quarters, and my mother runs it." Angela nodded again. "Ben and Cheryl are here with their two kids, Daniel and Amy." He shook his head, and shrugged. "I don't remember how old they are, probably around 4, or something." Angela nodded again. She'd remembered most of this from the wedding, but a refresher course was good. His family hadn't occupied much of her headspace since she'd last seen them, and she internally kicked herself thinking about it. "There's extended family I'll introduce you to later, but Ben's family is going to be staying here, too." He shrugged. "Big house. Hard to find an excuse to go to a hotel." She was used to being briefed before a meeting, but this still seemed weird.

Angela nodded again, and rubbed his shoulder, "Got it."

They pulled in a long driveway, and curved slowly along the grass-lined macadam. Michael parked in a larger area, off to the side, and looked over at the house.

"You ready?" she asked gently.

He sighed, "It's not gonna get any better if we wait."

Angela held Jonathan's hand, and grabbed her purse. "Do you want to just leave the luggage in the car for now?" Walking up to the door to say hello to near strangers, laden with four large bags, felt imposing.

He let out a sharp laugh, "Yeah, good idea. I may need a reason to go to the car later."

Angela glanced at him cautiously. She wasn't really nervous about seeing them again; she was in tricky meetings all the time. But she was increasingly worried about how this was affecting Michael. He really didn't look well. They walked up to the door and rang the bell, its echoey sing-song reverberating throughout the large house.

An older woman opened the door. "May I help you?"

Michael sighed. "I'm Michael Bower, Steven and Elaine's son. We just called," he said with pained patience. "We're here for the party?"

"Yes, please come in."

"Michael?" Elaine came into the foyer. "Angela!" she said delightedly, and walked up with arms outstretched.

Just playing everything by ear, Angela received the hug with one grateful arm.

"You look beautiful!" Elaine said.

"Why, thank you. So do you," Angela said, regaining her wits. "I don't think I've ever seen an Elsa Peretti I didn't like," she said, nodding to the woman's pendant necklace.

Elaine smiled in acknowledgment.

When Angela pulled back, she squatted a little to pick up Jonathan. "This," she said, propping him on her hip with effort, "is Jonathan." Angela turned a little to include Michael, who was watching silently a couple of feet back. "Michael and I want to thank you for sending him those bonds. That's a wonderful gift."

"One never can start saving too early," she said smiling, still trying to coo over her grandson, who was turned into his mother's shoulder.

Giving up for the moment, Elaine looked up to Michael. "Michael. We're glad you could make it."

He nodded. "Thank you for the invitation," he replied a little stiffly.

Elaine turned back to Angela, and put her hands together into a single clap. "Well, let's get you all settled, shall we? Steven isn't due back from a lecture for another hour, and Ben's flight was delayed. They'll get here later tonight," she smiled, then frowned. "Michael, don't you have luggage?"

He nodded blankly. "I'll go get it."

"Alright. We'll put you in the west end. I'll show Angela and Jonathan around," she said, patting Angela's unoccupied hand.

They followed her though the vaulted living room with a climbing, tiled fireplace. Dark wood paneling was everywhere. She walked into the simple but spacious kitchen with pea green appliances, and pointed out the back sliding doors.

"You see that, Jonathan? There's a big backyard to play in," she said animatedly. Jonathan, who had been looking around with interest, curled back into Angela.

Angela smiled at him, and bounced a little to get his attention. "I bet we'll have a good time." Elaine looked a little bit sad, but turned to continue the tour. Kissing his cheek, Angela followed her up the staircase to the second floor.

Elaine led them down a long, dog-legged hallway into a large bedroom with floor-to-ceiling mirrors covering one wall. A pink velvet, button-tufted, accent bench sat at the end of the king size bed.

"Oh, Elaine. Everything is so trendy! What a treat!" Angela said, running her free hand along the curves of the large TV cabinet.

Michael plodded into the room carrying all the bags, and dumped them by the door. Elaine jumped, and looked back at him, perturbed. He just looked at her expressionless. Shaking herself out of the moment, Elaine looked to Angela. "That door leads to an adjacent room for Jonathan, and over there is your bathroom. We can show you the rest of the house later. Why don't you get settled in, and I'll see you at dinner?" She touched Angela's arm. "Steven will be so happy to see you again." She turned around, eyeing Michael as she left.

Michael scowled as he shut the door and locked it. He slumped to the bed, and flopped frontwards onto it. "Only 71 more hours to go," he muffled into the comforter.


Steven passed the rolls to Angela. "You've got to try these, Angela. Dorothy makes the best bread!"

Angela smiled politely. "Oh, yes, please." She took one out, and handed the basket to Michael. He took one and passed it to his mother, opposite him.

"Oh, no, thank you. I'm trying to watch it before the party."

Michael paused a beat, but then lowered the basket to the table.

Steven spoke up loudly. "So, Michael? What is your job looking like these days? Any upward mobility on the horizon?"

Angela thought she tensed before Michael did, and her eyes flickered down to Jonathan on her lap. Michael stopped chewing, and looked up at his father. "Same as ever, Dad. Animals. Film. You know."

The air was getting thinner by the second, and Angela took a sip of her iced tea.

Steven's voice quieted just a little. "Yes, yes I do."

Elaine looked up to Angela. "And how is your work, Angela? You're a vice president now? I'll bet you're signing clients left and right."

Angela glanced quickly at Michael, before answering. "Um, yes, it's going very well. Thank you. We're both doing very well," she said looking carefully between her in-laws, but still trying to smile.

She saw them looking at her with their eyebrows up, waiting for her to continue. She was nervous, but felt like she should keep treading. "Um, we cater to various industries. Everybody needs someone to help them spread their message, so they can concentrate on fulfilling their mission." They nodded enthusiastically. Angela was trying to smooth things out, but felt Michael tightening with every syllable.

"That sounds fascinating, and probably quite technical," Steven noted.

"Yes. Yes, it is. There is a lot of planning and numbers, regardless of whether a campaign is serious or light-hearted." She laughed a little, "For example, we recently signed a donut chain, and the string of commercials we have lined up will mostly be animated and silly. But I've spent more time trying to get that budget approved than I ever did on the Xerox account."

Elaine and Steven nodded, captivated.

Angela felt a little guilty, realizing after she'd started that she was name-dropping. But as strained as this all was, she couldn't help but feel validated in front of her husband. At least he can see that other people think what I'm doing is worthwhile. But she could feel the heat radiating from Michael, and she looked down to cut her steak into bits for Jonathan.

"Yes, the process is an intricate ecosystem. We all rely heavily on each other to do our part. The animators, directors, actors, and musicians are the hands and feet of the operation. I couldn't do a thing without them," she said shaking her head, and taking a bite of potato au gratin.

"That's very gracious," Elaine said, taking a bite of salad.

Angela looked up quickly. "Oh, not at all," she rebutted seriously. "I can make proposals and yell one-liners into Madison Avenue traffic all day long, but they're just ideas until someone makes them happen. I've sat in on many an art session, and what they do with our stick-figure ideas is phenomenal. They make them flourish into reality right before my eyes. I'm glad that's not on my shoulders."

Steven made a flat smile. "You sound like an excellent person for whom to be working."

Angela smiled slightly, and her eyes flickered to Michael. I'm not sure I'm going to recover from this.


Angela gently closed the door into Jonathan's room. It took almost an hour and a half to get him to fall asleep, even with the time difference. Angela was exhausted, but tried to be quiet. She turned around to see Michael lying on the bed, facing the door. Her head tipped in sympathy. I really messed this one up. That wasn't the time.

She walked softly to the bed, and lied down near him. She trailed her hand from his shoulder to his wrist, "Hey," she whispered.

He didn't move or say anything. Her mouth twitched. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Angela briefly closed her eyes, and decided to go for the throat. "I'm sorry I was showing off."

He turned toward her, glaring. "Oh?"

"Yes," she said softly and shrugged a little. "It felt good to have your parents think what I do is important."

"Oh, I know you were showing off. I just was curious as to whether you were actually sorry."

She took a breath. Okay, I deserve that. "I am."

"You know, my father caught up with me in the hall when you went to put Jonathan down. Do you know what he said?"

She shook her head, more than a little nervous.

"He said they didn't know how I managed to get someone like you, and I'd better not screw it up."

Her eyes flashed, "That's preposterous!"

"Is it, Madam VP?"

"Michael, I was bragging to them because what I really want is for you to think I'm important, not them. I already think what you do is incredible. I just want you to think the same about me."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, "Ah, yes, and I so appreciate the pity train you tooted around the table – that ridiculous schpeel about the importance of the lower classes." He scrunched his face, mockingly. "Thank you so much!"

"Do you actually believe that?"

"What's important is, you do."

"No. I don't," she said definitively.

"You know, you only have to insist you are something that you aren't."

"No, you only have to insist you are something you think you aren't. I don't think you or they truly understand the importance of every piece of the process. So, if I pushed too forcefully, it was because I knew I was up against a massive obstacle, not that I didn't believe in it myself. Every time I see your work, I'm amazed."

He looked at her, expressionless. "You really are good at advertising." He got up, went into the bathroom, and slammed the door. Jonathan started to cry, and Angela slugged into his room, trailing a throw blanket behind her.