Chapter Fifty-Three: Vagabond

Late Saturday night, Mona sat up in bed stretching after her latest intimate workout. She desperately wanted her boyfriend to wind down and go to sleep, but he seemed to be in a talkative mood.

"Would you ever consider getting married again, Cassie?"

Damn. She needed to shut this line of questioning down fast. "I'm a free spirit, Ricky. A vagabond," she said, hands flying around like little birds. "You can't tie me down."

"You also said you didn't believe in monogamy. I'll eat my hat if you can produce one other lover you've taken since we met," he challenged her.

"Not for lack of options," she said defensively.

"That's my point, sugar. You've been faithful by choice, just as I have."

"I love you. Isn't that enough?"

"Not for me. Every time I see you, I think about how nice it would be to share a life. We're not twenty anymore, or even forty. Why should we waste the time we have left being apart?"

He had a point. Alone is bad, together is good, her daughter had told her when they were deciding to maintain a single household in witness protection. Unfortunately, she wasn't really available for marriage. "Does nobody realize I am the cornerstone of this family? I have responsibilities. I can't just run off with you!"

"Which is it, Cassie? Are you a vagabond or the cornerstone of your family?"

"Both, alright? The truth is that we're all running away. I can never tell you the whole story."

"Did you lie to me?"

"I lie to you every day," Mona said, turning away and pulling a nightgown over her head. Ricky put on his boxers and stood to block her path to the door.

"About what? Does it have anything to do with the envelope you mailed?"

"Everything, Ricky!" She was exasperated. "The envelope was important to Bobby and Jess. That's all I'll say."

He'd been suspicious for some time, and he let all of his theories fly. "They weren't really married before, were they? And Jen and Chris aren't siblings. Were they kidnapped? Do they have parents who are looking for them?"

"They weren't kidnapped, and I'm being honest with you about that."

"Look, is it a money thing, or are you in trouble with the law? Maybe I can help."

"Neither. There's nothing you can do. I'm just stuck," she said, pushing past him and opening the door.

"Should I call the airline and change my flight?" he called after her.

"Be my guest. I'm going to sleep upstairs."

x

After enjoying a room service dinner in their huge white robes, Tony closed the drain stopper on the jacuzzi tub and started running hot water. He tuned the clock radio to the classical station with the volume high enough to hear but low enough to easily talk over. "Come over here and waltz with me," he said.

Angela didn't hesitate. She placed one hand on her husband's shoulder and held the other hand up. He met her free hand and put the other hand on the side of her waist. "One two three, one two three," she counted as they moved in a basic box step. The water continued to run loudly into the extra-large tub. "Am I doing it right?" she asked.

"Why are you asking me? I know you've taken dance lessons," he said, drawing her a little closer.

"Yeah, but then I went years without a date. Your movements are so fluid. You must have had more practice than me."

"This isn't exactly the kind of dancing I was doing with my dates," he teased, "but even if I had more practice, you have.…" He spun them around. "…talent."

The compliment gave Angela butterflies. Tony could be so seductive. She moved her hand to his neck. "Did I tell you that I like your hair this length?" she asked, threading her fingers into the thick, silky hair.

"No, you didn't, but I could tell. You're always putting your hands in it. I like it," he told her. His heart was pounding. How could someone be so familiar and so thrilling at the same time?

She kissed his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down and dipped her hands into his robe to grasp his shoulders. He pulled the robe off and let it fall on the floor, then surprised her by stepping into the tub. The water was still low enough to handle the displacement of their two bodies. She grabbed her claw clip off the nightstand and threw her robe on the bed while he turned off the tap. He watched intently as she arranged her hair on top of her head, then held out a hand to help her into the water with him. They settled down with her in between his legs, and she leaned back against his chest, twisting to kiss him.

"I haven't taken a bath in so long," she said. "It's nice, especially with you."

"I like a good bubble bath, but those showers we took together when I was recovering from surgery were pretty great, too." He rested his hands comfortably on her thighs.

"I think you almost pulled a stitch the first time I took care of you, Tony. It was way too soon."

"It had been too long! Don't you remember what I was doing to you before we went to the hospital?"

"We really need to go back to that spa before our next anniversary. A massage table is so much more comfortable than a desk."

"So, are we going to celebrate in June or September?"

"Both. Even if we go home, we can celebrate June twenty-eighth as the day we got engaged."

"And if we stay, we renewed our vows on September twentieth."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, baby."

"Do you feel like we really had a proper wedding ceremony? I mean, our vows were in our own words, but not our own names."

"We can do it over. Right now." Tony pulled up his knee and Angela turned halfway to face him. "I, Tony, take you, Angela, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, till death do us part." His lip quivered as he gazed at her with glassy eyes.

"I, Angela, take you, Tony, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, till death do us part." She smiled and shook her head. "That was it. We're really, really married now."

"Not until you kiss me," Tony said. They entwined themselves in a reasonably comfortable position and kissed until they were out of breath and the water was cool.

"We should get out of the tub," Angela said, pushing herself to standing and grabbing a folded towel. She had goosebumps from the combination of cold water, strong air conditioning, and the makeout session. Tony pulled the plug.

"Don't laugh," he said, covering his privates with one hand while he reached for a towel.

"I'm not going to laugh. Not when I'm walking funny thanks to that thing," she teased.

"You love it," he insisted, drying himself off.

"I love it. And I love you," she told him with a peck on the lips. "My husband."

"My wife. I think I'll keep her," he said.

"That was a terrible commercial," she said, scampering away. He chased her onto the bed and pinned her down.

"You're so sexy when you're criticizing other people's work," he told her.

"You would like that," she said with a grin. The towels fell away and then it was just their bodies against each other again.

x

"This was the biggest, floppiest hat I could find in the gift shop," Tony said, coming back into the room. Angela was all packed, just waiting for a disguise. She pulled the hat low and added sunglasses.

"It'll do," she said. They walked down the hall with their bags and waited for the elevator. When the doors opened, one man was already inside. They joined him and turned to wait in silence.

"Congratulations, you two," he said. Tony looked at him agape. "I saw you in the lobby yesterday, fresh from your vow renewal. Actually thought you were a Tony Micelli for a minute."

"Who?" Tony asked. He was going to need anxiety meds if this kept up. Angela ducked her head low and bided her time until they could escape the metal box.

"Tony Micelli played for the Cardinals about five years ago. My dad and I were season ticketholders until I moved to Seattle. Anyway, the guy didn't last long. Got hurt and washed out. Now that I see you close up, you're much better looking than him."

"Thanks, I guess." Tony muttered. The doors opened and he dragged Angela through the lobby, dropping their keys in the express checkout box while the man from the elevator stood in the long line for the front desk. When the valet pulled the Mustang around, the man was still waiting to be assisted.

"He didn't think it was really you, Tony," Angela assured her husband. "Shirley knows me. Knew me."

"And she told you you were dead. I don't think either one of us has anything to worry about," he said, but there was an uneasy knot in the pit of his stomach.

When they arrived home, Sam met them inside the garage. "Oh my god. I'm so glad you're home. Ricky left and Grandma is acting like everything is fine. I'm scared, and the dweeb has been hiding out with Ronald Reagan all morning."

Angela went in first, while Tony and Sam dealt with the bags. "Mom?" she called. Mona was whipping egg whites to a stiff peak by hand. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making meringues, dear."

"Is everything alright?"

"Uh huh," she answered, sweat beading up on her brow.

"Where's Ricky?" Angela asked with concern.

"We broke up last night and he left this morning."

"Left this house or left the state?" Tony and Sam went up the stairs as quietly as possible, letting the two women have their one-on-one discussion.

"He's on a plane back to Chicago!" Mona informed her daughter, throwing the whisk into the bowl and backing away from the counter.

"Mom. What happened?"

"It was getting too serious. I'm not cut out for relationships. You know that. I told him that."

"Is that really what's going on here?" Angela asked. She knew her mother would crack after a few repetitions.

"He wanted to talk about marriage. How am I supposed to marry someone who doesn't even know my real name?" Mona tore off her apron and stormed into the living room. Libby was in her lap the moment she sat on the couch, as if she knew her adoptive mother needed calming.

"I'm so sorry, Mom."

"Yeah. Well, what are you gonna do? I'll be fine."

"It's OK to be upset about this. It was your most serious relationship in years."

"It was my most serious relationship since your father." Mona dissolved into tears and Angela put an arm around her. They hugged awkwardly, neither wanting to disturb the pug. "He started asking too many questions that I couldn't answer. It would have been dangerous to stay together."

"Oh, Mother," Angela said, holding Mona's hand. Mona rested her head on Angela's shoulder for a while, then decided to go back into the kitchen to see if her meringues were salvageable. The egg whites had already deflated, and she tossed the bowl into the sink.

"Best way to get over a man is to get under another man," she said. "I'm going out. Don't wait up."

x

"A taxi picked him up at eight this morning," Sam told her father. "We didn't get to say goodbye. He just waved up at us."

"Well, what happened? I thought they were really crazy about each other."

"I think he got suspicious. He asked about your first wedding and the pictures in the car, and then he got weird about stopping to mail your marriage license. He really wanted to know what it was, and Grandma wouldn't tell him."

"Oh." Tony felt guilty. Mona was in a horribly unfair position, all thanks to him. While he had been enjoying his honeymoon, his good friend was giving up on a promising relationship to protect their family. "Go put on your shoes. We're going to run an errand," he said, walking over to his son's room.

"My tux is ready to go back to the store," Jonathan said proudly. "I packed it up myself."

"Good job, son. I've got mine here. Let's run over and return them, and then we're going to stop at the new Italian foods store."

"For what, Dad?" Sam had her shoes on and her little purse slung over her shoulder.

"Pastina."

x

The first thing Shirley did when she got home was pull out the obituary she'd clipped from the New York Times. "Angela Bower, President of Wallace and McQuade, the twelfth-largest advertising agency in the country, died in a car accident at the age of thirty-five on Saturday, December 7, 1985. Her eight-year-old son, Jonathan Bower, and fifty-five-year-old mother, Mona Robinson, were also victims of the fatal crash. One adult male, Ms. Bower's employee, and his minor daughter lost their lives in the same vehicle, which went over a cliff near Ms. Bower's Fairfield, CT home. Ms. Robinson's mother, a UK resident, survives the family. Jonathan Bower is also survived by his father, Michael Bower, a documentarian."

It wasn't very helpful. She dialed 411. "What city, please?" the operator answered.

"Fairfield, Connecticut."

"How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Angela Bower."

"No such listing."

"How about Mona Robinson?"

"No such listing."

"Tony Micelli?"

"No such listing."

"Thank you," Shirley said, hanging up the receiver. She couldn't very well call Phoenix and ask for a Jessica and Christopher M. Perhaps another approach would come to her.

x

Tony sat with his US History textbook and supervised while Angela prepared dinner. "Do you think Mom's going to find some rebound guy tonight?" she asked.

"I don't know. Wouldn't blame her for it," he said, looking up with a finger holding his place in the reading.

"She was really upset. I've never seen her like that. Not since Daddy died, anyway."

"I think it's best we don't say or do anything else to stress her out." The implication was clear. No talk of Shirley Grant or the Cardinals' fan.

"You're right."

Mona called at ten, unable to drive home from a local bar. Tony woke Sam to let her know that she and Jonathan would be alone in the house for a short time while their parents picked up their grandma. After getting Mona settled, Tony and Angela trudged upstairs.

"She's a wreck, Tony. I'm going to take the kids to school tomorrow and let her sleep it off."

"Alright," he agreed.