A/N: This chapter requires a strong stomach. Keep the saltines and ginger ale handy.

Chapter Fifty-Six: Rossini's Fish Market

Shirley fixed her hair and makeup in the office restroom. She was meeting Jack Ballantine, a fellow creative, for drinks. They had seen each other around Madison Avenue, but only really met in Phoenix. He was one of the Adweek Symposium attendees who knew Angela only by reputation. During their Sunday morning chat, he slipped his card into her hand and told her that he would love to talk more once they were back in New York. After weeks without a date, she was lonely and in need of a conversation partner.

Two drinks in, Jack had Shirley doubled over with laughter. He was cute, she realized, and goofy in a Harry Anderson sort of way. After he produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his pocket square and presented them to her, she decided to give him a test of compatibility.

"What's the craziest thing you believe?" she asked.

"Like a conspiracy theory?" he clarified, leaning over the table

"Yeah." She finished the last of her wine in one gulp.

He looked around to make sure nobody was in earshot. "The moon landing."

"You think it was faked? A lot of people would agree."

"No, I think it was real. Why? What's the craziest thing you believe?"

"Angela Bower is alive," she said impassively.

He laughed at her deadpan humor. "Like Elvis? Did you see her at the bodega or something?"

"No, I saw her at my hotel in Phoenix and get this: she was with Tony Micelli."

Oh, she was serious. He recalibrated to keep the date on track. "Tony Micelli the baseball player? He died almost a year ago."

"December 7, 1985," they said in unison.

Shirley had a sudden need to draw Jack in and convince him of her theory. "Do you want to come back to my place and look at the evidence I've collected?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Jack said, downing his drink. He wasn't a good-looking guy, but he had managed to snag his share of invitations to ladies' homes. They were almost always indirect. He learned over the years to never pass up an offer from an attractive woman because it was likely to end up in bed. He stood and put on his jacket. "Walk or taxi?"

"Taxi," she said. He was out the door hailing a cab in record time.

When Shirley showed Jack the photocopied newspaper columns and school pictures, he studied them with interest. "The obituaries certainly line up," he conceded.

She was excited to find someone who took her seriously, since the last few people she had graced with her theory told her she was crazy. She handed him a magnifying glass when he got to the picture of the four girls. He immediately noted that the jag's license plate was visible except for a single character. There were plenty of places they could turn for more information, but he kept them to himself for the moment.

"That really does look like Jonathan Bower in the background, and it could be Angela and Tony playing basketball," he said.

"Who else would it be? The librarian confirmed that the four of them were a family," she argued.

"Where's the fifth person, though? Mona Robinson?"

"The grandma? She probably didn't get out much. I doubt we'll find anything on her." She looked at him hopefully after dropping the hint that they could continue the investigation together.

"Next weekend, we could go to Rossini's Fish Market, and then back to my place for dinner. If you're interested in seeing me again, that is."

"Oh yes," she said, throwing her arms around him. It wasn't long before they moved to the bedroom.

Afterward, the conversation continued. "So she faked her death and married her housekeeper? Why?" he asked. "Men marry their secretaries all the time."

"I don't know," she mumbled against his chest.

"Well, I'm sure there's a good reason. They wouldn't run off with their kids like that unless it was serious," he said.

"You're probably right."

"Let's keep this between us for the time being, ok?" Having a secret was a surefire way to advance a relationship, and he liked her. She was kind of crazy, surprisingly dumb, considering her talent, but great in bed.

x

Angela scheduled the kids' doctor's and dentist's appointments all on one Wednesday afternoon. She could have tried for a Friday, but Tony had midterms and papers, and she didn't want to compromise their weekend family time. The pediatrician had a double timeslot available, but she needed to circle back to the dentist.

Jonathan went first. He had developed one small cavity since his last visit in the Spring, which the dentist filled without bothering to numb him. Angela watched nervously as her child braved the drill. Afterward, he got to pick a toy from the prize chest. It was a contest between the eye patch and the rubber snake, but the eye patch won out. He put it over his head immediately, while Angela ushered him out of the building.

"See you in two hours, Mrs. Moretti!" the receptionist called.

Next, they picked up Sam from school and went to the pediatrician. She wanted to go back alone, and Angela agreed to it, not having any particular concerns over her health or her ability to stick to Jen's life story. Next, Sam stayed in the waiting room while Angela and Jonathan went back together.

"Christopher Moretti. Nine and a half," the medical assistant said, knowing the importance of recognizing that half year. She tilted her head and looked the boy over.

"His eye is fine. He got that patch at the dentist earlier," Angela said, snatching the toy off her son's head.

The MA weighed and measured him, then frowned, finding a number on a table and writing it down in his chart. He was in an awfully low percentile for nine-year-olds, and he was within a few months of turning ten.

"He's always been on the small side," Angela remarked.

The doctor was kind and efficient in conducting his exam and pronouncing Chris healthy. He suggested the boy wear his eye patch for Halloween, and Angela realized she hadn't considered the upcoming holiday at all. Everyone seemed slightly concerned that the kids had no documented medical history, despite Angela's explanation that their old pediatrician had retired suddenly and made no arrangements for parents to retrieve files. "We hear excuses like that in kidnapping cases, Mrs. Moretti."

"Well, that's unfortunate, but it's not the case with my family," she insisted.

"What's your blood type, ma'am?" a nurse asked casually.

"O-positive." They weren't going to get her that easily. The kids both had Type A-positive blood. As long as Tony wasn't questioned, they'd be fine. He was O-negative, a universal donor.

As the family got ready to leave, a child projectile vomited against a bank of chairs in the waiting room. The smell was vile, and all three clapped their hands over their mouths and noses. "Let's get out of here," Angela said, pushing them out the door.

Jonathan didn't make it far, stopping to throw up just outside the entrance. Angela plugged her nose and poked her head back into the waiting room to let the staff know, while Sam ran to the car. The receptionist assured her that it happened all the time and they would "sawdust it." Both Angela and Jonathan needed to walk it off in the fresh air before they could head to the dentist. It was still pleasantly warm, in the 80s on that mid-October afternoon.

Sam had no cavities and no need for braces, to her relief. The appointment went quickly, with just a cleaning after the x-rays and exam. She declined to take a toy from the prize chest until her brother whined that she was passing up a great rubber snake, which she immediately handed over to him.

"See you in six months, Mrs. Moretti!" the receptionist called.

Angela waved and opened the door for the kids. It was just past four, and she had been up for twelve hours already, in an attempt to fit a full day's work in before her lunchtime departure. She was exhausted from all of the driving around, and her stomach didn't feel great after the puking incident. Sam turned the radio up, and nobody spoke on the ride home.

To everyone's surprise, there was a familiar black Mercedes parked in front of the house. Angela asked the kids to be respectful when they saw Ricky, but he left through the private entrance while they came in through the garage. Mona was just entering the living room from her suite. "You look awful," she told Angela at first glance. "Eww, the boy doesn't look so good either. Are you coming down with something?"

"Hey," Sam interrupted, "there happened to be a very disgusting situation at the pediatrician's office, and these two have sensitive stomachs."

"Thank you, Jen," Angela said.

"Well, I feel bad about running away when Chris puked. I should have helped," Sam admitted.

"It would be a huge help if you could make dinner tonight. Something simple and bland while your brother is queasy." Angela was in the mood to delegate. "Chris, go brush your teeth and do some reading in your room. Mom, we need to talk."

Mona led Angela into her suite. "I didn't expect you home so early."

"Is this why you've been doing better lately? Because you're seeing Ricky again?"

"He came back for the winter last weekend, and we're keeping it casual this time."

"Is that a good idea?" Angela was concerned that her mother was setting herself up for another heartbreak.

"We missed each other, OK? He's willing to lay off the love and marriage BS and stick to the fun stuff."

"How do you tell someone you love them and then sleep with them and pretend you don't have feelings?"

"It's called compartmentalizing. You managed to pretend you didn't have feelings for Tony for a whole year."

"How did that work out? Another year on, and we're happily married. Is that what you want?"

"What if I do?" Mona blurted out.

"Mother, do you want to get married again?"

"Maybe. But for now, this is all I can manage. You have everything, Angela. Please just let me have this."

"Alright," she sighed, knowing it was a difficult predicament for her stubborn mother to be in.

"I need to get ready for work now."

"Fine. I'll see you later tonight, maybe."

"Maybe," Mona echoed.

Angela went upstairs, telling Sam that she was going to take a nap. Jonathan was reading quietly in his room. After such a stressful day, it was a good thing that Tony was going to be home for dinner. She wanted to talk to him about the situation her mother was in.

x

Tony walked into the bedroom carrying a bowl of buttered noodles. The smell of food woke Angela.

"Here you go, sweetheart. It's seven. I didn't want you to sleep too long and be up all night."

"Why didn't you wake me when you got home?" she asked, sitting up in bed and accepting the dish.

"I tried, but you told me to go away," he chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Tony. It was a crazy day."

He sat on the bed and let her lean back against his chest. "You should have let me take the kids to their appointments, honey."

"No, I was happy to. I just shouldn't have tried to work a full day before lunch." Angela took a bite. "Shit, I never ate lunch. That's probably why I felt so nauseated."

"Sam said it was like a horror movie, but with smells." He pulled her hair back behind her shoulders.

"How is Jonathan?" She was wolfing down her pasta now.

"He feels fine."

"Really? Because sometimes he says he's fine, and the next thing you know, he's throwing up on you." The bowl was empty, and the gnawing hunger had started to go away.

"You said you were fine at that carnival right before you threw up on my shoes, baby," he said, kissing her cheek. She remembered the cotton candy coming up after their roller coaster ride, and suddenly needed fresh air again.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked.

"Sure, honey. Why?"

"I just feel like going for a walk with you," she said.

He couldn't resist shirking his studies for some quality time with her. They put on appropriate clothing for the cool night and headed out the front door, passing Sam as she went upstairs to do homework. She was pleased to be left in charge of her brother, even for a short time.

"It was nice of you to offer, but you actually can't take the kids to the doctor going forward. They asked my blood type today."

"And?"

"They would be expecting a Type-A father. You're an O."

"So they'll think you cheated on me," Tony teased. He was surprised that the joke didn't come with a pang of jealousy. It was a sign that the incident with Nate was truly in the past.

Angela smacked him on the arm, then slid her hand into his. "Ricky is back in town and my mother has been seeing him casually."

"Ah, that's why you wanted to walk."

"She's madly in love with him. What if this is it for her? How many second chances do you think she'll get?"

"As many as she wants. She's the one who decides to keep her relationships superficial."

"Don't you think Ricky is special?"

"I think he's a great guy. But he's also the first one she really got together with when we got here. He bought her things when we were broke, and he was there for her when she was lonely and lost."

"Doesn't that just mean he was the right guy at the right time?"

"Under the right circumstances," he added.

"What are you getting at?"

"Sometimes, it doesn't matter how much two people love each other if the situation doesn't allow their relationship to progress."

"Like when we were stuck just being friends?"

"Yeah, kind of like that."

"You know what she told me earlier?"

"What?"

"You have everything."

Tony swallowed. "Well, do you agree?"

"I do. Great job, nice house, good friends, two beautiful children, and the man of my dreams."

"She has a lot of the same things. What she doesn't have is the freedom to be herself with her partner."

"How long do you think Ricky is going to put up with seeing her casually before he wants more and breaks up with her again?"

"The benefit of not being together is in not needing to break up."

"Whatever you call it, she's going to be devastated if he stops seeing her."

"She knows that, and she's choosing to take the deal."

x

On Saturday afternoon, Shirley and Jack went to Rossini's Fish Market. The windows advertised whole fish and live oysters and crabs. Inside, it was a typically outdated Brooklyn shop. The walls were light blue and plastered with handwritten sale signs. Behind the counter hung pictures of men holding their catches. A pair of louvered swinging cafe doors hid the office. Jack took a number and looked at the products.

"It smells gross in here," Shirley said. "Oh, Jack! Look!"

A picture of Angela's family hung on the wall. She wore a high-necked blouse and had her voluminous hair styled neatly with bangs almost obscuring her eyes. Jonathan wore a gray sport coat and sweater with a button-down and bow tie. Samantha was in a grey dress with a peter pan collar. The man she assumed was Tony wore a dark suit and tie with a light pink shirt.

"That's Tony Micelli, alright," Jack said.

"Angela looks so uncomfortable," Shirley said.

"Number ten!" a man called. His nametag identified him as Joe.

"Two haddock fillets," Jack said. "Hey, I noticed that you have a picture of Tony Micelli on the wall."

"Tony was a neighborhood kid. Like a son to Carmella and me. Shame what happened."

"What happened?" Shirley interrupted.

"Well, if you ask me, it's got something to do with his father-in-law, Nick. The guy died in prison and it was only a few days later that Tony and Samantha went off that cliff."

"What about the other two in the picture?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, they passed, too. Tony's boss and her son. That picture is from Thanksgiving at our place last year."

A dark-haired woman passed through to the office carrying a jug of cleaning solution. "Are you talking about Tony?" she asked.

Joe handed Jack his wrapped fillets and a complimentary lemon, giving him the price.

Shirley spoke up while Jack pulled out his wallet. She had a feeling this woman would be more talkative. "I'm an old friend of Angela Bower's. It seems like she and Tony were close."

"Very close," Joe muttered.

"Very close like something was going on between them?" Shirley demanded.

"Something is probably too strong a word," the woman explained. "He was sweet on her. I tried distracting him with a gorgeous, available Italian girl at Thanksgiving. Even cleared out and let them use our apartment that weekend, but he ended up going home to Angela and the kids."

"Carmella, can you quit gossiping and get back to work?"

"Shut up and help those customers, Joe."

Shirley was lost in the potential love story, but Jack had the wherewithal to get more useful information. "Did you ever meet Angela's mother? Was she a shut-in?"

"Ha! Hahahaha!" Carmella dissolved into laughter. After a minute, she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Mona was the opposite of a shut-in. She only missed Thanksgiving because she was a sexy elf in the Macy's parade."

"So, you and Mona were friends?" Shirley asked.

"Personally, I wasn't a fan of hers, and the feeling was mutual, but Tony and Samantha loved her. He was elated when she moved into the apartment over the garage." Carmella leaned close to Jack and Shirley. "Tony lost his mother when he was just a kid, and he always liked having an older woman around to talk with after that. I think Mona was just a poor substitute for me."

"Did any of them have a connection to Arizona?" Jack asked.

"Arizona?! No. Why?" Carmella looked alarmed.

"Just wondered," Shirley mumbled.

"What was Nick's last name? The father-in-law?" Jack asked.

"Milano." Carmella narrowed her eyes. "Who did you say you were?"

A/N: Sorry, but there will not be an M chapter for Shirley and Jack. More Tony and Angela M chapters will be coming, but I want to push as much of the main story as possible for Thanksgiving travellers who use FanFictionDownloader or another service to save the story as pdf for their flights.