September 20, 1984 – Fairfield, CT
Angela dug through the closet in Jonathan's still-darkened room, and found an outfit for him. Yes! "Jonathan, wake up!"
Jonathan squinted as he sat up. "Mom?"
Angela laid Jonathan's clothes on his desk. "I'm sorry to rush you, baby, but I'm running late. Get dressed, wash your face, brush your teeth, all that stuff, then go get yourself some cereal, okay?" She finished the last of her orders on the other side of the door frame. "I've got to go get a shower!"
Finding her own clothes proved to be more difficult. She had plenty of clothes that hadn't even been worn since Mrs. Hiller quit, but finding a professional outfit that didn't require nylons actually took some thought. This is not the week to look like a bum! Grant made it very clear this was go-time. Why didn't I prioritize my laundry!?
Grant had told her he was going to keep his distance this week so she could concentrate, and he had. Now all Angela needed to do was keep up her end of the deal. She had a presentation this morning and had worked on it privately all week. Grant hadn't even seen it yet, and she was excited to show the clients what she'd come up with. Digging far into her top dresser drawer, she found a pair of dark dress socks she never wore. That'll work! It'll go with my black pantsuit and red blouse.
Angela scuttled to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. Where's my shower cap? She twisted around like a dog chasing its tail.
It wasn't anywhere. Arrgh! Snagging a hand towel, she wrapped up the hair she'd blown out the night before. This'll have to do!
Angela stepped into the steamy shower. I really wish I had some coffee brewing!
Angela toweled off and slipped into her bathrobe.
Ding Dong
The doorbell? Who shows up at someone's house before 7:30 in the morning!?
Cinching her belt tight, Angela made tiny, hurried steps under the long, pink robe to the hallway upstairs. What am I doing!? I can't answer the door this naked!
"Is somebody getting that?" My cosmic wish to the universe: can I not be alone in EVERYthing!?
"No…" Jonathan's sweet voice carried.
Okay, I can see how my nonchalance could be irritating, at times… Angela strove for patience. "Jonathan, will you please see who's at the door?"
There was a pause, but then relief filled her when she heard him say, "Alriiight, I'll see."
Angela admitted to feeling a fiendish satisfaction that she was not the only one who seemed slightly onery this morning. She waited.
"Who is it, sweetheart?" I don't have time for this!
"Oh, just some guy…"
My kid's poker face is better than mine… "Well, what does he want?"
"How should I know? He was just standing out there."
I'm losing it! "You mean you didn't even ask?"
"No, you just said to see who was at the door. You didn't say open it."
If he wasn't so cute… Angela hustled down the stairs. Well, whoever it is, is going to get an eyeful, I guess.
"Jonathan, I'm warning you, Joan Crawford is my idol."
Sometimes, it's nice to let off steam in a way that goes over his head…
She rushed to the door and opened it to see a gigantic smile on a beautiful, but still bothersome, Mediterranean-looking man.
"Morning!"
The what? "Mor- …may I help you?" What's he doing on my doorstep? On some colleges, this is still the middle of the night!
"Well, if you're Angela Bower, I'm here to help you!"
The man's smile didn't quit …among other things…not the TIME, Angela! But she gave herself a break, as his sport coat and sweater did little to hide his athletic frame. And seeing as she was standing in front of him with nothing but a layer of terrycloth between them, she figured she could extend his wayward glances the same grace.
Regroup! "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm Tony Micelli. I'm here about the job?"
"Ohh!-" Phew! Wrong number! "I'm sorry, there must be a mistake; this job is for a housekeeper." Angela started to close the door.
"That's me, Mr. Goodmop!"
Once again, her eyes dropped down over him.
I don't understand. How could he have gotten my address?
"Well, uh… my mother's screening everyone. Did you meet her?"
His bubbly personality had no trouble making itself heard. "Yeah, yeah- yesterday! You know, she gave me the once over: kicked me on the tires, put me up on the rack…"
The more he explained, the more confused she got. For crying out loud; I'm late!
But she did make time for a few more once overs of her own. MY, that's distracting...
Alright, fun's over, Angela. "Well, she should've checked under your hood, 'cause you're the wrong sex." Angela closed the door a little farther this time.
The man shook his head in rebuttal, and she stopped closing it.
"Wait a minute… She said that wouldn't be any problem," he contended with discernable fear in his voice.
Of course, she didn't… Either out of pity for him or irritation at her mother, Angela gave the man some lead. "My mother didn't think World War II was a problem," she said dryly, admittedly getting a little kick out of their banter.
There went another eye sweep…
All of a sudden, he motioned inside her house, "Oh, that must be Jonathan!"
Aw, he knows his name! "Ye-"
"Cute kid!"
The pretty man walked into her house as she was trying to climb out of her enchanted state. "Yes, he is!" …Wait- What's happening? "W-" she stuttered.
"You must be Jonathan!"
He's talking to my son.
"That's right; how'd you know?" Jonathan said like he was talking to Santa Claus.
In my living room.
"Uh, your grandmother told me. You're King of the Reptiles, right?"
I'll kill her.
"That's me!" Jonathan piped up more excited than Angela had seen him… well, probably since his 5th birthday…
Angela shook off the sadness with the practical. I'm still naked under here… "Uh, excuse me! I'm in a terrible rush. I've got to get Jonathan to school, and I've got to catch a train."
"Well, I could take him."
"No- No, thank you…" Angela drifted off. That stupid snake Michael gave Jonathan is down here again! Every time she saw that thing, she thought of Michael gaining the upper hand. "Jonathan! Didn't I tell you to take the snake out of the living room?"
His sweet little face was fresher than ever. "Not today you didn't."
Angela could've sworn she felt her fingernails grow. How cute is he, really?... She grasped at logic. "Must you be so literal?"
"Yes."
Does he get this from Michael or from me… Either option is terrible. Arghhh! "Jonathan, I don't know what to do with you!"
Just then, the pretty man interrupted her.
"Uhh-"
Feeling a sense of support to which she didn't feel entitled, she, apparently, let the man step past her and continue his welcome intrusion. Walking over to the couch, he sat down next to her son.
"Uhh... Hey, Jonathan? Why don't you, uh, hustle your little buddy upstairs?"
What's happening?
"Aw, what's the big deal?" Jonathan whined.
I can't decide if I'm more embarrassed or curious…
"Well, the big deal is, it looks like a showdown between your snake and your mother. Remember, the snake doesn't pay your allowance."
And then something amazing happened: Jonathan's stubborn wheels started turning.
"Good point…." Jonathan allowed. "Well," he got off the couch, "sorry, Wilbur; money talks, and you don't." And just like that, Jonathan was carrying that hideous souvenir up the stairs.
This man just met us, and he speaks Jonathan's language! "Th- thank you…" She was a little thrown. "Uh, where were we?"
Ironically, Angela found herself looking down at this strange man to gather her bearing, and that gigantic smile was back and ready for his applause. Get a hold of yourself! She turned back to the front door. "Oh, yes! You were at the door, and I was about to close it."
"Whoa-wait, wait a min- You know, I gave up my apartment; I drove all the way up here. Your mother said I had this job, except for a small formality."
"What formality?"
His practiced grin returned, "You sayin', "Yes."
Cheeky.
"No!" she defended.
Shedding his bravado, the man sunk back onto her couch. "Can we talk?"
I always was a sucker for an honest appeal. She met him halfway, taking the towel off her hair and shaking it out. I've got to finish getting ready! *sigh*… maybe I shouldn't be so hasty… I really do need help. "W- Do you…do you have any references?"
"No."
Seriously? "Do you have any experience?"
"None," he admitted.
"How many jobs have you had as a housekeeper?" Okay, now I'm just making my point.
"One, if I get this," his pained smile was trying so hard to hold out.
Don't fall for the eyebrows, Angela, you aren't interviewing for a companion…
Just then Mona walked her bicycle into the foyer. "Ahh, Mr. Micelli! Here you are! And right on time!" Mona looked back sheepishly at Angela. "What a reliable person!"
I cannot believe her gall! She knew I wouldn't be okay with this.
Mona kept trying, "So, how are things going with you two?"
Angela cast all her executive powers onto her mother. "In the direction of the door."
"Door?" Mona tried to pacify the man's anxiety with a quick touch toward his chest. Why is she comforting him! I'm the one being compromised, here! "Uh-"
Mona stepped toward Angela, insisting on confabbing without even minimal privacy. "Angela, what is the problem?"
Oh, I'm not being bullied like this. "The problem is, Mother, you sent me a man for a housekeeper."
"Oh, don't be sexist. A man can do meaningless, unproductive work just as well as a woman."
"Mother," Angela strove to bring perspective to this technical sideshow. "Mother, the housekeeper's room is very close to mine." Please don't make me say it!
Then the talking grin interjected on his own behalf, "Oh, hey! Don't worry about me. I keep a can of mase by my bed!"
Mona laughed out loud.
Of course, she would.
Mona kept pushing, "He's got a sense of humor!" She even looked back toward him in encouragement, "A regular Henny Youngman!"
"What a zany guy," Angela retorted dryly. I can't believe I'm having this conversation... The pretty man must leave. She tried to nail this coffin shut. "Nevertheless, it doesn't look right or feel right for a man to be living here alone."
"But he's not alone!" Then Mona turned to the man and asked, "Didn't you tell her about Samantha?"
Wait! A married couple? This might work! "You're married?"
Curiously, that's when the man's vulnerability resurfaced. "Oh, no. No, Sam's my daughter. Uh, you're gonna love her! She's in the truck. I'll go get her!"
And then he left.
What the-?
Angela ran after her control in the direction of the door. "No! No, wait!"
I can't even say no to my own kid, let alone someone else's!
Angela stood outside her front door with her conniving mother, awaiting more awkwardness as he went to bring his daughter into this mayhem.
"Well," Mona toed the line, still entirely pleased with herself. "…isn't he perfect?"
Angela was still trying the hold the line, but it was obviously costing her her breath. "No."
Angela watched him hurry to his van and felt herself voluntarily losing ground. He's certainly able-bodied, and my mother is pushing for this left and right. I did want her blessing on this. …What is it about him that's even making me consider such idiocy? A young…very attractive… man moves into a soon-to-be-divorced woman's house? Accompanied or not, the gossip writes itself! But he's… what is he? While she thought, her mother talked.
Mona cozied up next to her daughter, plying her with both logos and pathos. "He loves children, Angela. And children love him. I got that from the Director of the Brooklyn Y. See, my instincts tell me, this is the man for my grandson…and it doesn't hurt that he's a hunk!"
THERE it is! "Mother, I'm not looking for a hunk for a housekeeper," Angela insisted as levelheaded as she could get away with.
Why is she pushing this?
"Why not? He'll do floors, he'll lift furniture…can I come over when he lifts?" I am not paying for my mother's seedy entertainment. I'm trying to fill a legitimate need here!
"Mother, I don't know anything about this man." She walked into the house, content with her final word. She walked toward the staircase. I have a meeting to get ready for.
But her mother kept pressing. "Angela, I checked him out thoroughly. And it's a story you won't believe…"
Angela felt herself weakening already but was regrettably curious. "Oh! One of those!" she said, drawing out her audience with as much dignity as possible.
"I got it from his parish priest."
He's religious?
"See, he's an ex-jock, and he played in the major leagues for a while," Mona walked away from her daughter, weaving her web, "'till he got hurt and then they dumped him - the swine. And it was just about that time that his young wife died," Mona looked off to the side to see if her plan was working.
Oh, she is good. Angela walked toward her, trying to break the spell. "Mother, don't do this to me."
That was all the encouragement Mona needed. "They were childhood sweethearts, Angela. And since that time, well, he's been working at odd jobs, you know: uh, a young widower, trying to find himself and support his little girl."
The woman should've been an actress.
I should've gone back upstairs…
"You did it to me," Angela plunked down onto the couch in defeat. Great, even if I didn't want to employ him for us, now I want to employ him for him. Not a great bargaining position…
Mona walked over to Angela on the couch as she continued to plead with logos, "Angela, even the child psychologist said that Jonathan has to have-
"a male role model," they both mimicked together. I KNOW!
"And this Tony? Is he male or is he male? I mean, we are talking mucho macho, here!"
Oh, brother.
Just then, this Tony walked in, proudly shuffling in a spunky, pretty, little tomboy. "Well, here she is. This is Samantha." In startled preemption, he rushed, "Oh, oh, she got that shiner stealing third in Little League."
Mona looked delighted; Angela was charmed. Aww! How scary can this guy be if he's got such a sweet little girl? Jonathan was coming back down the stairs, taking in the updated meet-and-greet from a safe distance.
Tony looked down to address his daughter. "Uh, Sam, I want you to meet some real nice people. This is Mona Robinson."
"Nice to meet ya," Sam said holding out her hand to Mona, who shook it happily.
"And this is Angela Bower."
Sam stepped toward Angela on the couch and, again, held out her hand. "Oh, I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bower. You have a lovely home and you're so pretty!"
Oh, my goodness! Angela's heart fluttered. "Thank you! I'm very flattered!" Is this what it's like having a daughter!?
Sam turned back toward her dad and spoke a little too loudly under her breath. "That's the idea…"
…Come again?
But Mona was already on it, appreciating the little girl's wit with an amicable shove back toward her dad.
Tony kept trying to keep up the palsy charade, and motioned Sam toward where Jonathan was on the stairs. "And, uh… Oh! And this is, uh, the snake keeper, Jonathan. Jonathan, this is Sam."
Jonathan and Sam took stock of each other and said their obligatory hellos. She was bigger than he was, but this was his territory. She looked like she was trying extra hard to look like she was being polite. That's actually quite relatable, sweetie. Jonathan looked like this wasn't his favorite part of the introductions, either, but he was making a purposeful effort. That says something, I guess.
Tony flapped his arms out in overly insistent chumminess. "They love each other, already!"
That might be a bit much, buddy… but you do make an impressive case.
Again, Mona tried to help, "Sooo, shall we wrap this thing up?"
All eyes went to Angela, and she wished with all her might that she could bring her professional decisiveness into her homelife.
She shook her head, "Gee- I, I don't know…" All these cute people want me to say, 'Yes'!"
Mona leaned down to look Angela in the eye and spoke low. "Angela, Albert Schweitzer is dead. This is the next best thing!"
Angela rolled her eyes.
But then that Tony put his arms around both kids' shoulders and paraded up to her without an ounce of bluster. "Hey, look, uh, all I can say is I need the job." He snuggled Sam closer on one side of him. "And my daughter needs a good place to grow up." He looked down at Jonathan briefly, then back to Angela and patted Jonathan's shoulder. Finishing softly, he braved, "And I got a feelin' …maybe you need us?"
The crescendo came from the tiny voice of her son, "It's okay with me, Mom."
Angela could almost see her resolve drifting away. I would give anything for Jonathan to be happy.
Mona stuck her nose back in. "There ya go: there's the deciding vote!"
Then, in some sort of bold cutesiness, Tony squatted down, hugging the kids like they were trying to squeeze into a photo. He must've been the baby of the family…
But then Angela looked at her baby, and he…wanted this. She couldn't help but smile, herself. Could this really be a happy thing for us? Trying to maintain some level of authority, Angela stood as she capitulated, "I guess we could give it a try."
Tony picked up both kids by the waist and bounced them up and down, "Alright! We got ourselves a new pad!" he sang.
What the-? He's so cute!
Sam piped up, "Wait! Do I get my own room?"
"Oh, yes. You can have the sewing room," Mona commandeered.
Angela was past putting her foot down and let it fly. I guess that's the best option, anyway.
Tony rushed out, "I'm gonna get our stuff; it's in the van."
Done with her grandma job for the time being, Mona returned to normal. "I think I- I'll just go watch him unload…"
Jonathan grinned hopefully up at Sam and spoke excitedly. "Are you afraid of snakes?"
"Afraid? I had a boa constrictor when I was a kid. He'd swallow live mice. And, once, he ate a kid bigger than you? So, any more questions."
This girl is going to be good for both of us.
Jonathan's tiny voice shied away from the mini-Amazon. "Yes:" He looked back toward his mother for help. "Is it too late to change my vote?"
Angela wasn't falling for it. "Yes!" She smiled at him. I think he was right the first time.
"So, uh, Mr. Micelli," Angela extended her arm toward the open door of the housekeeper's room.
Even hulking a giant cardboard box, he popped his head out from behind it and looked her seriously in the eyes. "Oh, hey, yo. Please, call me, Tony."
Angela liked that. It's like he cares. Already. I didn't get that much heart form Mrs. Hiller the three months she worked here.
Her extended hand found stability on her neck, and she felt the pads of her fingers drag slightly down the side of it. She smiled nervously and spoke quietly, "As you wish…" Increasing her volume and her confidence, Angela hugged herself briefly and then tensely shot out a hopefully solidifying palm. "Then, please call me, Angela."
Tony grinned and strained, "Angela, it is…Do you mind if I…?"
Embarrassed at having prolonged his agony, Angela collected herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. Yes! Here," she moved out of the way. "This is your room."
Tony was leaning back to steady himself as he walked. Her eyes flickered to the way his shoulder blades fought for space in his sport coat, and she threw her chin in the air to look at the ceiling. He dumped the box onto the bed. The way it fell, she could only imagine it was extremely heavy, and she decided she ought to get out of there before she noticed anything else.
"Well, Mr,- uh, Tony, I need to finish getting ready. If you don't mind, I'll take you up on your offer to make sure Jonathan gets to the bus stop? It's just on the sidewalk, at the end of the street."
"Oh, sure thing, Angela. What time does he need to be there?"
She looked at her wrist. No watch. Oh, yeah: naked. Angela hugged herself again.
Tony looked at his own wrist. "It's 7:44," he offered.
"Oh, shhhhhoot!" Angela said, spinning on her heel. She called over her shoulder during her brief time in the hallway, "Please, take him now!" Racing into her room, she shut the door.
Wrapping her hair up into yet another towel turban, Angela hopped back in the shower for a quick rinse of her most recent sweat.
I'll drive today.
September 20, 1984 - Wallace & McQuade, NYC
Angela ducked into Grant's office right as she came in that morning. He looked up in question as she shut the door.
"That's a great suit," Grant said quietly as she walked toward him.
Barely able to contain her excitement, Angela came right up to him and whispered very near his ear, "I got a housekeeper. Take me out again."
Grant's smile grew to a grin. "Tonight?"
She flicked her eyebrows up and nodded exaggeratedly as she backed away, "You'll want to celebrate after today."
His grin became charmed as he watched her flip her briefcase over her shoulder and walk out.
A/N: Obviously, the script from the first scene with Tony and Sam in the living room is taken straight from what aired in the pilot. Not mine. And don't worry, I won't be combing through every scene like that, but I thought that first one was important. Anyway, I've got some shoring up to do, but we're just about there, folks!
