A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who has read and commented so far, you guys are awesome!
Chapter Two
The day after Christmas was always a bit of a downer, in Angela's experience. The presents were opened and scattered to the winds, the treats were devoured, and the beautiful tree was shriveling into a fire hazard. All that was left was a mountain of bills, a growing pile of ugly brown pine needles on the living room floor, and a mild case of indigestion.
And, to top it all off, today the magical scent of pine, woodsmoke, and pumpkin spice had been replaced with the unmistakable stench of rotten eggs. Angela nearly gagged as she entered the kitchen. "Tony, no offense, but whatever you're making for breakfast, I don't think I want any."
"Ay-oh," her housekeeper protested, brandishing his rubber spatula like a knight drawing a sword to defend his honor. "My chocolate chip pancakes ain't taking the fall for this one."
Indeed, the mixture dripping from the spatula smelled heavenly. The smell appeared to be coming from elsewhere. Nostrils twitching, she traced it to her son, who was slumped at the breakfast table as if he were trying to make himself smaller. "Jonathan, give me the stink bombs."
"I didn't make any!" he protested. "Honest!"
"Only because you were too dumb to keep the mixture from blowing up in your face," Samantha taunted between bites of maple-drenched pancake, studded with warm gobs of melted chocolate. Damn, but she was making those look good…
"Aw, what do you know?" Jonathan tried to sneer, but the quaver in his voice clearly confirmed the girl was on to something.
Angela took his chin in her hands and tilted his face upward, trying to make him look her in the eye, but that ended up being unnecessary. His entire face, save for a raccoon-like mask of normal pink flesh around his eyes, where his safety goggles must have been, was stained an unnatural mustard-yellow. He tried to cover the evidence with his hands, but it was no use. There were stains on his fingers as well. "Jonathan!"
The boy's eyes darted around as if he was looking for an escape. "Mom, I know I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to worry you. I think I might have malaria."
"Malaria." She leveled her best intimidating stare, the one she usually reserved for business matters or boxing matches, at him. Really, was that the best he could do?
"Acute liver failure?" He tried, withering under her gaze.
"It must be very acute, since you looked fine yesterday," said Angela. Across the table, Sam snickered into her plate.
Jonathan racked his brain. She could see the wheels turning behind his round, dark eyes—the mirror of her own. "Would you believe non-alcoholic cirrhosis?"
"No."
"Alcoholic cirrhosis?"
He must have checked the encyclopedia for a list of diseases that caused jaundice and memorized it. Well, at least he was learning something in the course of his lie. Tony was less impressed. "Give it up, buddy, you're only digging yourself deeper," he advised Jonathan, pulling out her chair and setting a glass of orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee on the table. "You've been caught yellow-handed. Your only hope is to throw yourself on the mercy of the court."
Jonathan heaved a defeated sigh. "I plead guilty."
"Good choice," said Angela, shooting a grateful look over her son's head at Tony. He had shaved several pointless, and undoubtedly infuriating, minutes off of this conversation. "And because you heeded the advice of counsel, I am only going to lock up your chemistry set instead of grounding you for life."
"For how long?" her son whined.
"Until you prove you're mature enough to use it responsibly, or that horrible smell wears off. Whichever comes last."
"I really hope the smell wears off first. It's sure not doing much for my appetite," said Sam, pushing her barely-touched pancakes aside and rising from the table. "I'm going to go take in a little MTV. Jonathan, don't join me."
"Hey!"
Angela swallowed a laugh. It wasn't a nice thing to say, but she could hardly blame the girl. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted him on the furniture in this condition, but she didn't have the heart to tell him so. She stroked his hair, which was stained quite a bit blonder than usual. "Did you try a good scrubbing with soap and water, honey?"
He nodded miserably. "Three times."
Tony poured him a glass of milk and straddled the seat opposite Angela. "You know, I think I might have a cure. You're not going to like it though."
She raised her eyebrows. "A cure for a face full of concentrated stink bomb? Do I want to know how you came by that knowledge?"
"Actually, it's a surprisingly boring story. Nana Mae, you know, the Windhams' housekeeper? The older lady with the frou-frou hair?"
"Did they even have stink bombs in her day?" Jonathan asked.
"Be nice," Angela admonished, though she had been silently wondering the same thing.
Tony didn't miss a beat. "I don't think so, and they didn't have washing machines either, which is why she had to use water from a sulfur spring that stank like an old gym sock to do her family's laundry growing up. Whenever I complain about our washing machine acting up, she gives me the same endless speech, about all the crazy stuff she had to do to get them presentable again afterwards. And lucky for you, I'm a good listener." He made a face. "But it ain't pretty. Not for nothing, but it's gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better."
A faint spark of hope entered her son's eyes. "I'll try anything!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you, buddy." Smiling ruefully, he rose from his seat and removed his apron. "Angela, can we use your tub? I promise I'll have it pine-fresh again by your usual bathtime."
"I'm not worried about that. Whatever you think will help.
"Great. Jonathan, head upstairs and fill the tub with ice-cold water."
The spark in his eyes went out. "Can't we just use hot water?"
"If you want to move in with a family of skunks," said Tony.
"I love skunks!"
"Yeah, well love them from afar." Tony playfully swatted at him with a dishtowel. "Go put on your goggles and your swim trunks, smartypants. Bring your earplugs and your nose clip, too. I'll be right up."
Jonathan took a long gulp of his milk as if to fortify himself for the ordeal to come, and slunk off to his fate like a condemned man going to the gallows. It wasn't until they heard his footsteps thudding gloomily up the stairs that they allowed themselves to share a laugh at the child's expense. "Poor kid!" said Tony.
"Serves him right," said Angela halfheartedly. "It sounds like this is going to be a big job, do you need some backup?" From the sound of it, the quicker they could get this over with, the better.
Tony waved her off, gathering up two boxes of baking soda, a massive jug of vinegar, a couple of Scotch Brite pads, some ancient dishwater-grey towels, and…a box of bendy straws? "No, you'd better let me tackle this alone. The kid's embarrassed enough as it is without his mommy scrubbing him like he's a baby covered in spaghetti. Better if it's just us guys, like we're hanging out in the locker room." He wrinkled his adorably-crooked nose. "A frilly pink locker room, but hey, you work with what you've got." He rolled up the sleeves of his long-sleeved tee shirt, showing off his muscular arms. Her mind went blank, the roar of blood in her veins drowning out anything else he had to say. Part of his tattoo was peeking out from under the wrinkled cuff now, as if daring her to come and find out what else he was hiding underneath.
A strong hand landed gently on her shoulder. "Angela, are you okay?"
She blinked rapidly, trying to bring her brain back online. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I asked if you're going into the office today."
"Oh." Right. Yes, that was something she normally did at this time of day. She took a sip of coffee to steady her nerves. "Just for a few hours this afternoon. I don't expect a lot of action today. Everyone's still sleeping off the holidays, half the businesses in town are closed outright, and most of my employees are on vacation."
"Well, this is just a suggestion, but you might want to clear out for the morning, too," he warned her grimly. "Or at least give the bathroom a wide berth. Like I said, this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." He squeezed her shoulder in what was likely an innocent gesture of friendly sympathy, but it sent an electric jolt down her spine nevertheless.
Yes, he was right. Given the mood that had come over her, it was probably best to avoid the house while Tony was going to be hanging around it in a wet tee shirt. "Duly noted." He gathered his implements of torture and cleanliness and turned to leave. Mm, the view of him from the back was nice, too. Get ahold of yourself, Angela! her mind scolded. Her hands were ready with a distraction, grabbing Sam's abandoned pancakes and shoveling a massive, gooey, delicious bite into her mouth. Mm. If Tony made this kind of stuff for breakfast more often, I might eat breakfast more often, she mused, cramming in another bite before she'd finished swallowing the felt the tension melt from her body and relaxed back into her chair.
Naturally, her mother chose that moment to show up, barging in without so much as a greeting, as usual. "Really, Angela? You were so desperate to put off going to the dating agency you're actually eating breakfast?" she snorted, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "This is the lamest excuse you've come up with since the dog ate your homework."
"It wasn't homework, it was a vetting form for a very important client, and it was your dog who ate it!" Angela fired back at her, wiping maple syrup from the corner of her mouth.
"Don't split hairs. It's not Grover's fault you left it out on the counter, right next to the bacon." Mona sat down and helped herself to a bite of Angela's stolen pancakes. "Are you chickening out already?"
"No. Sam didn't finish her breakfast and it's a sin to waste food." Angela took another bite.
"Hm. How very pious of you," said Mona skeptically.
"Fine, I'm going." She gobbled up the last few scraps of pancake and rose from the table. "If they're even open. But I'm warning you, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, especially Tony, I'll give Jonathan back his chemistry set and turn him loose in your apartment." The last thing she needed was for Tony to find out exactly how low her love-life had sunk. Oh, she knew she could trust him not to laugh at her, or gossip about her. He was her friend, and he was a good one. It was his pity she was afraid of.
"I can keep a secret."
"You can, you just don't often choose to."
"I waited until we were alone to give you the gift certificate, didn't I?" said Mona innocently. "I respect your privacy, dear."
The latter point was debatable, but she had to give her mother credit for the former. "All right, fair enough. I'll be back to pick you up for work at one."
"I thought we were closed today," Mona whined.
"We are, but there will be messages to return, and there's a stack of filing on your desk from the two days you took off right before Christmas, and I need to put the finishing touches on my presentation for our big meeting with Fancy Lads Snack Cakes on Monday. One o'clock, be there or be square." She fled the room before her mother could start bartering her silence for the afternoon off. She stopped by Jonathan's room and locked his abused chemistry set in her office safe. As she passed by her bedroom, she was met with a horrible, acrid smell. It was as if the rotten eggs she had detected earlier had been thrown into a blender with a jar of kosher pickles and a cake of lye soap. She gagged a bit, bravely making her way to the half-open bathroom door.
She found her son waist-deep in a tub of sickly-yellow water, his upper body caked in a thick layer of white paste. Only his eyes were still visible behind a pair of swim goggles. "This is gross, Tony!" he exclaimed with relish.
"Thanks, I try," replied Tony, rubbing more of the paste into Jonathan's neon-bright hair. Bare handed, no less. He was a brave man.
"Are you guys sure you don't need any help?" Angela offered again. She didn't feel right about leaving Tony alone with this horrible mess. She paid him well, but not enough for this.
"Mo-om!" Jonathan protested, stretching the name into two syllables. "I'm in the tub!" Tony chuckled and shielded him with a ratty towel, though it was riddled with so many holes that it wasn't much help.
He was wearing his bathing suit, as Tony had instructed. It must just be the principle of the thing. Angela humored him by shutting her eyes, which had the added benefit of blocking out the sight of Tony, his wet shirt plastered to his chiseled chest and washboard stomach like a second skin.
"Relax, we've got this. You've got the morning off, don't waste it." He made a shooing motion with his paste-encrusted hands. "Go catch a movie or something, unwind. Do something nice for yourself for a change. You work too hard."
Angela tried not to feel disappointed. Truth be told, she would have much preferred a quiet, if messy, morning at home with her three favorite people (and also Mother), to the pointless ordeal ahead of her. Best to get it over with, though, or Mother would never let her hear the end of it. "All right. I'll see you boys tonight."
"Don't be late, I'm making spaghetti with clam sauce."
"Mm, can't wait!" She licked her lips in anticipation.
"Oof! Bye, Mom," Jonathan grunted as Tony attacked his shoulders with a scrub brush. "Get out now, before it's too late!" Whatever was mixed into the water began to fizz ominously when it made contact with whatever was plastered on his skin.
With that, Angela finally had the sense to listen to them and flee. She found Samantha in the hall, turtleneck pulled up over her nose and mouth, eyes watering profusely. She mumbled something that sounded like a question, but Angela couldn't have begun to puzzle out just what she was asking. "Sam, I know this is a big ask, but I'm afraid I'm going to need you to come out of there for a minute."
Samantha emerged with a painful-sounding wheeze. "Angela, I think I'm old enough to know the truth. You guys are hiding a dead body in there, aren't you?"
"Not at present, but if Jonathan does this again, we might be," she replied darkly. "I don't know what your father is slathering him with, but whatever it is, a growing girl shouldn't be exposed to it. I've got some, uh, errands to run this morning, and I'm going to be driving right past the mall. Why don't you let me drop you off? There are bound to be all sorts of great clearance sales going on right now." It was a shame, really. Her family could have had twice the presents for half the money if she'd been able to wait and do her Christmas shopping after Christmas. Oh well. She dug into her purse and handed the girl a crisp twenty-dollar bill. "Pick yourself out one last Christmas gift from me." She thought a moment, and added a ten. "And get yourself something to eat. You barely touched your breakfast." Angela was doing her best to assuage the guilty feelings that came with secretly devouring a growing child's meal, but it wasn't working.
Sam seemed pleased enough with her efforts, though. "Really? Thanks, Angela!" she squealed, stuffing the money in her pocket as though she feared Angela might come to her senses and snatch it back. "Do I have time to call Julia and Bonnie before we head out and see if they can meet me there?"
"I'll wait for you as long as our oxygen holds out. Tony!" Angela called over her shoulder. "I'm taking your daughter someplace where the mad science experiment you two are conducting can't hurt her anymore."
"She means the mall, Dad!" Sam hollered from halfway down the stairs.
Tony poked his head out of the bedroom door, towel draped over his shoulder. "The fumes made it all the way downstairs? Yikes, it's worse than I thought. Okay, have fun sweetie!" He gave Angela a smile. Not the broad, cocky grin he wore when cracking a joke or meeting someone new. This was the more sincere smile he saved for her and the kids, gentle and full of warmth. "Thanks, Ange, you're the greatest."
Her stomach fluttered, and she laughed it off. "Says the man who's up to his elbows in a tub full of toxic waste, trying to help my son."
"Point taken, we're both amazing." Tony preened dramatically for a moment, then returned to his task.
The drive to the mall was a bit more challenging than usual. Sam, eager to flee the noxious fumes that had taken over the house, had chosen to bring her makeup with her and apply it on the way over. She kept tilting the rearview mirror away from Angela to check her makeup. After the third irritated driver zoomed around her, honking his horn and making a rude gesture out the window, Angela handed the girl her purse. "Here, sweetie, I've got a mirror in here you can use. It's black and it's in the pocket under the front flap."
"Thanks, Angela." In her quest for the mirror, Sam pulled out several odds and ends, among them the embossed envelope containing the gift certificate. "Another Christmas card? How come you didn't put it on that stupid card tree Dad made, with the rest of them?" By the time Angela realized her mistake, it was too late. The girl's eyes popped wide. "Video dating? Seriously?"
"Would you believe I'm holding it for a friend?"
Judging by the look on her face, Sam clearly did not. "Come on, Angela. These places are for people who are desperate, antisocial, or desperately-antisocial!"
Angela's cheeks had turned uncomfortably hot, and she wondered if it would be a faux-pas to start blasting the air conditioner in December. "Don't look at me like that. It was a gift from Mother."
"Yeah, but…well, you haven't thrown it away. Or burned it like you did that magazine subscription she gave you last year."
"I thought we all agreed never to speak of the magazine subscription again," said Angela. Sam wasn't laughing, though. In fact, she seemed rather sad. Angela was getting worried. As pathetic as her love life may be, it certainly didn't warrant the kind of misery that was written all over the girl's face. "Samantha, what's wrong?"
"It's just…what about Dad?"
Angela felt her heart leap into her throat. "Don't you dare tell him about this."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Angela, please, give me a little credit. I just meant…well, I guess I'm just surprised to see you dating again. I always assumed you two would end up together."
"Oh, sweetheart." Angela didn't want to have this conversation again. Having this talk with her was going to be even worse than giving it to Jonathan. Then, Tony had been there to back her up, and he was a lot better at hard conversations like this than she was. "That's not going to happen. Your father's not interested in me."
The mask of unhappiness on Sam's face gave way to a muted smile. "He's not interested in you, you say?"
"Yes, why do you look so happy about that?" She was definitely getting mixed signals from this kid today.
"Because you didn't say that you're not interested in him." The hopeful smile gave way to a full-blown smirk.
"I…?" Oh, dear God, she hadn't. And, well, she couldn't. Not honestly, anyway. She decided to try a limited version of the truth. "Oh, Sam, even if I was, it wouldn't matter. Things are good between us the way they are, and I would never jeopardize that, and neither would he."
"Weak, Angela, weak," Sam teased.
"You're just saying that because you haven't thought it through."
"Aha! That means you have thought about it." Sam pointed at her like a cop with a gun, cornering a criminal.
"Of course I have thought about it. How could I not? Everyone is always bringing it up." She turned into the Fairfield Mall's south driveway, briefly shifting her eyes away from the crowded parking lot to give Sam a pointed look.
"All right, all right, I get the message. But if you ask me, you've been thinking about it a little too much. Try feeling instead."
Angela pulled her Jag into the drop-off zone and shifted into park, regarding her young passenger thoughtfully. "Have I told you lately that you're just like him?"
"Yep!" Sam giggled, giving her a clumsy side-hug. "I'm a chip off the old block. And I love you. So what does that tell you?" Sam opened the passenger door and hopped out, cutting off any chance Angela had at making a comeback.
Angela shook her head ruefully and said the only thing she could to Sam's retreating back. "I love you, too, smart aleck."