Tony flew into action. He dropped the complaining kids off at the Fairfield Market with his grocery list and a blank check, and he drove almost 45 minutes to a turkey farm that he had heard still had fresh turkeys available. It had taken about 12 phone calls, but he had finally found out a place that would take his order and promise to have a turkey available when he arrived.
He went into the farm store and gave his name, and they brought out his order. It was a much larger turkey than he had wanted, but all the smaller ones were long gone, sitting in people's working refrigerators all over Connecticut, and beggars can't be choosers, he thought to himself. He paid for his 26 pound turkey and was back on the road a few minutes later.
He arrived back at the Fairfield Market to find the kids sitting on the curb outside, bags all around them. They had been whining when he dropped them off. Now that he was back, they picked up right where they left off.
"Get in, kids, let's go!" he said, silencing them, piling the bags into the back of the van, and ushering them in.
At home, he got everyone involved. He paired up Angela with Sam, and Mona with Jonathan, hoping that Sam's common sense could balance out a little of Angela's cluelessness in the kitchen, and that Mona, who lived alone and therefore must know a little something about cooking – though come to think of it, she was always eating HIS meals so maybe he was giving her a little too much credit – with Jonathan, who being so young needed a lot of assistance.
Armed with the recipe and ingredients, Mona and Jonathan were put on cranberry sauce duty, in Mona's apartment, while Sam and Angela were put in charge of freeing up space in Mona's fridge and making sure all the new groceries were put away safely to stay cool. Tony started at once with the lasagna in the kitchen of the main house.
Angela had come through with the appliance repair company. They had an appointment for Monday to get their fridge looked at, but in the meantime, she had been able to get a rental of a minifridge. That, along with Mona's fridge, should be enough space to tide them over, Tony thought.
Once the lasagna was in the oven, and Mona and Jonathan were done with the cranberry sauce, and Angela and Sam were done setting up Mona's refrigerator and the mini fridge, Tony rallied them all together in Mona's kitchen.
"Dad, I'm exhausted," Samantha said, flopping down on one of Mona's stools. "It's so late." She pointed over at Mona's couch, where Grover was collapsed in a furry heap. "Even Grover is done for the day," she said.
"No time for exhaustion, Sam," Tony said. "I've got a list for each of you," he said, and started to pass out papers. Grover lifted his head, but when Tony didn't hand anything over to him, he barked once and then dropped his head back down to his paws. Everyone turned to Angela.
"Angela," Mona accused, eyes narrowed.
Angela raised her hands up in defense. "These aren't my To-Do lists, though Tony, I do have to say they are very thorough. I love the way you listed each person's name along the top and then our tasks—"
"Mom!" Jonathan complained, at the same time that Sam said, "Dad!"
Mona made a disgusted sound.
"Oh! I've got to go check on my lasagna!" Tony said, and he ran out the door.
As soon as the door closed behind Tony, everyone started talking at once.
"Angela! Have you seen my list?" Mona said.
"Yeah, mom, this is crazy. I don't even know what half these words mean! Julienne? What is that?" Jonathan said.
"No way am I peeling three pounds of potatoes! That will ruin my nails!" Sam said.
"Listen, you guys. Tony is really upset over what happened. He worked so hard to cook us an amazing Thanksgiving dinner, and everything was ruined through no fault of his own. It's not going to kill us to help out a little more to make this dinner perfect, for Tony."
"But we've already done so much!" Jonathan said.
"I'm so tired!" Mona said. "And I was supposed to go out on a date tonight!"
"Think about everything that Tony does for us every day. Does he complain about his nails"—she eyed Sam— "or how tired he might be, Jonathan? Or how he's missing out on a date by cooking for us?" Her gaze landed on Mona.
Everyone shrugged, but Mona piped up, "Well, I'm the only one in this house who ever has a date…."
Sam said, nudging Mona, "Hey, what about me, Mona?"
Angela said, "That's enough! We are all going to support Tony in this, and that is final!"
Tony burst back in, "Alright, alright! Who's ready to wash, chop, and dice?" He looked around expectantly. Three glum faces and one enthusiastic face looked back at him.
"We are, right?" Angela asked, and then gestured with her hands for everyone to join in and conjure up some enthusiasm, no matter how fake.
"Yeah," said Jonathan, with a grunt.
"Bring it," said Sam with zero inflection.
"Ugh, alright," said Mona, with a pout.
"Well, gee, don't knock yourselves out with excitement, guys," Tony said.
He started rooting around in Mona's fridge, pulling out celery and carrots, green beans, broccoli, onions, and garlic. He lined everyone up with a cutting board and a vegetable and a knife, except for Jonathan who got off easy snapping off the ends of green beans. He wanted a knife, but Tony wasn't taking any chances.
Tony put on some music, and despite the late hour, everyone got into it, even the kids, and they all got to work. Everything was going well, and Angela was really getting into a rhythm, chop, chop, chopping away. Tears were streaming down her face thanks to the onions she was chopping, but that was a small price to pay. She was moving so seamlessly and got into such a groove, that when the blade sliced the palm of her left hand instead of the edge of the onion, and she felt searing pain, she didn't even register what had happened.
"Ow!" she shouted, looking down in shock and then gripping her hand to her chest.
"What happened?" Tony was by her side almost immediately.
"I think I cut my hand," she said, a little dazed, trying to wipe the tears from her face and put pressure on her hand at the same time.
"Let me see," Tony said, grabbing her hand. The kids and Mona gathered around.
"Oh, that doesn't look good at all," Mona said.
"It's bleeding a lot. I'm going to take you to the ER," Tony said.
Angela wasn't going to complain, and she let Tony tie a clean dish towel around her hand and usher her out of Mona's apartment. He called some quick instructions to the kids and Mona to put everything away, and clean up.
"We'll finish tomorrow!" He called over his shoulder as he pulled the door closed behind them on their way out.
xxx
Eight stitches and two hours later and Tony and Angela pulled back into the driveway. Angela's hand was all wrapped up in gauze and thanks to some pain medication, she was feeling much better.
"I'm so sorry, Tony," she said.
"Ay oh, oh ay, what do you got to be sorry for?" he said. "It was an accident, and I'm just glad you are ok. "
"I know, but the Connecticut klutz strikes again. I really wanted to help."
Tony gave her a sincere smile. "Hey, you did help. You helped me get moving earlier when I was upset about having to throw everything out. You helped with the To-Do list, you contacted the repair company, and before you nearly cut your own hand off, you were doing a damn fine job of slicing those onions."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Now, let's go inside and get some sleep. Tomorrow's a big day."
Angela unbuckled and started to open her door. "I'm going to help you Tony, as much as I can." She looked down at her bandaged hand. "Well, as much as I can do, one-handed."
"I got it," he said, motioning for her to wait, and then quickly scooting out his own door and coming around to her side to help her out. He took her by her good arm. "Watch your step," he said, as they walked to the front door. "I appreciate that you want to help, but I think what would be best is if you would rest. The doctor said you have to be careful. You don't want the wound to reopen."
She nodded, disappointed, but she did agree. It was hard enough for her to help out in the kitchen when she was in one piece. She had no idea how she would go about helping out in the kitchen one handed.
The house was dark and quiet, everyone already asleep after the very long evening. Tony and Angela said goodnight at the bottom of the stairs. Tony wanted to help her up to her room but she assured him that she was fine. He headed into the kitchen for one last check before going to bed himself.
"If nothin' else, I wanna make sure that the oven turns on, that we still have water, and maybe that a sink hole hasn't opened up in the middle of the floor, the way this day is going!"
xxx
The next morning, Angela came downstairs to find Tony already hard at work in the kitchen. He was peeling what seemed like twelve pounds of potatoes, and paused when she came in, wiping his hands on his maroon apron.
"Good morning, Angela! An orange and some coffee?" he asked, and then whipped a napkin off a tray on the table to reveal a premade cup of coffee and a couple of orange slices. "Sorry, the juice is in Mona's fridge. I figured an orange is the next best thing."
"Thank you, Tony." Angela took a swig of the coffee. He was always so thoughtful. In all the rush and bustle of Thanksgiving, and this crazy Thanksgiving in particular, he still spared a thought for her and her usual breakfast, making sure it was ready for her when she came down.
"Up so early?" she asked, taking a seat. She felt guilty, but what he had said about her not helping and needing to rest, was absolutely the truth. She could feel her hand throbbing underneath the bandaging.
He picked up his peeler and resumed his work. "Lots to do, lots to do!" he said, as he looked over at her briefly. She saw him do a double take, and he put down the peeler again.
"Hey, you feelin' ok?" he asked coming over closer and dropping into the chair next to her.
"My hand is a little painful."
"Well, no wonder, you sliced it right open like you were butterflying a breast."
"Huh?" she said.
"Why don't you take this here ice," he got up and grabbed a napkin, and then as he was talking pulled out the ice cube bucket from the fridge and poured some in the napkin, "go sit with this in your hand, and take some Tylenol."
"Thank you, Tony," she said softly, taking the ice from him. "I feel guilty leaving you all alone to all this, though."
"Oh, I won't be alone," he said. He grabbed her mug of coffee. "Come on!"
He held the swinging door for her and followed her out into the living room. She settled in on the couch, tucking her feet up under her and Tony went off in search of the Tylenol in the bathroom under the stairs. He came out holding the bottle and handed it to her.
"Sam, Jonathan! Get your butts down here!" he yelled up the stairs.
A moment later the kids skulked down the stairs.
"See, told you I wouldn't be alone." He said, slinging one arm over the shoulder of each reluctant, glowering kid and leading them into the kitchen.