Chapter Three : Another Thanksgiving at Mrs. Rossini's
Thursday, November 27, 1986
Tony and Sam walked purposefully through the cemetery to the car as drops of rain began falling. They had each talked to Marie and Nick separately, expressing in their own ways how much they missed their loved ones and explaining how life had moved forward in their absence.
The strangest part of the visit was seeing their own headstones, marked with their birthdays and December 7, 1985 as their shared date of death. Their plots were right next to each other in the same section as Marie and Nick's. Tony regretted not purchasing the spot next to Marie, where her father could have been laid to rest. He simply could not afford it at the time. It was hard enough to scrape together the funds to give Marie the funeral she deserved.
"Thanks for bringing me here, Dad," Sam said, putting on her seat belt. "It was good to finally say goodbye to Grandpa Nick. Did you break the news to Mom that you remarried?"
"Of course, baby. I gave her a full update," Tony said. It wasn't his first time mentioning Angela to Marie. He'd related the story of his first kiss with Ingrid early in their relationship. After discovering that Angela was Ingrid and spending the night together, he'd worked through his conflicted emotions graveside. This time around, he expressed his hopes and fears about becoming a husband and father again. It wasn't as difficult a monolog as he expected it to be. Marie was kind and generous in life, and he knew she'd be happy for him.
"I'm ready for some grub!" Sam said. Tony put the car in drive and started down the familiar route to Mrs. Rossini's. The light rain stopped, and they were lucky to find a parking space only a block away. Charlie Briscoe was leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette.
"Holy shit. Sam?" she said. "Nice wheels!"
"In the flesh," Sam said, doing a little spin. "Dad, can I hang out with Charlie for a little bit?"
"Just until everyone else gets here. And no smoking, either of you," he said, giving Sam a stern look.
Charlie stubbed out her cigarette and put it in her pocket. She was eager to find out why her friend had faked her death and disappeared, only to return in an ostentatious red luxury vehicle.
Tony kissed Sam's cheek and continued on to Mrs. Rossini's second floor walk-up. He wasn't thrilled to leave his daughter with such a juvenile delinquent, but she needed a social outlet after a whole day without Jonathan, especially since she'd lost her phone privileges for saying that Michael was "a dick."
Joey answered the door with a baby on his hip. "Let me guess, Joseph Rossini IV," Tony ventured.
"We call him Jojo," Joey said, handing over the eight-month-old boy. "Theresa's in the kitchen with Ma, so we're babysitting."
"Joey, a father doesn't babysit his own child," Tony lectured.
"That's what I told him," Joe said, "but he likes spending time with the kid."
The baby started to grunt and turned red. "You giving the little guy enough fiber?" Tony asked, turning Jojo's back to his chest and rubbing his tummy gently. A piercing cry emerged from the baby and Theresa came out of the kitchen with her arms out.
"I'll change him," she said, taking her child. "Welcome back to Brooklyn, Tony."
"Theresa, pregnant again? Way to go, Joey!" Tony said, giving the younger man a punch on the arm.
"They'll be a year apart," she said, rubbing her belly.
"I'll help Mrs. Rossini while you're doing that," he said, heading to the kitchen.
"Tony! The prodigal son has returned!" Mrs. Rossini attacked him with hugs and cheek pinches. "Didya see the baby? Isn't he adorable? Doesn't it make you want another one of your own? You know that Francesca Candino really made something of herself. She went to Harvard Law! And she's quite a beauty. Perfect bone structure! She's still looking for the right man to settle down with. You know, she called her dad as soon as she got home from her business trip. Such a good daughter. Family oriented, not just a career gal. Anyway, she's very interested in getting reacquainted with you. Didn't you have a crush on her back in the day?"
He tried to object. "I'm not looking to date. In fact, I—"
"Nonsense! You must have gotten so lonely in Arizona with no female companionship. It's time to get back out there. "
"I wasn't lonely," he started to say. He had given only the broad strokes of their time in witness protection, telling Mrs. Rossini that he and Angela had posed as a married couple who shared two children. He wished he had just told her over the phone that they were in a real relationship. There would be hell to pay for getting married without her present, but first he needed to get her to understand that they were together.
"You brave, brave man. I know Angela must have been a comfort, but your best friend can't meet your needs the way a woman can. Francesca lives alone in a penthouse apartment, nobody around to interrupt the romance."
Tony was overwhelmed by the sheer number of words launched at him and uncertain of how to begin correcting the record. Before he could respond, Mrs. Rossini asked another, easier question, this time pausing her chatter to listen. "Can you give me the scoop on Michael? I thought he wasn't much of a family man."
"I guess he's done some thinking about what's really important and changed his ways." It was too soon to tell, but he was hopeful for Jonathan.
"That's good to hear. Angela must be relieved that she doesn't have to do all the parenting anymore. She's not very maternal. Now Francesca is more the nurturing type."
"Mrs. Rossini, I need to tell you—"
"Oh, I'll stop harping on you. Just let me know when you're ready and I'll give you her number."
Theresa walked into the kitchen, relieving Tony of his obligation, though he'd never actually started to help with anything. When he went back to the living room, there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," he said to the men and baby slumping back on the couch. Mrs. Rossini emerged from the kitchen just in time to see Angela leaning against Michael at her door.
"What happened?" Tony asked, clocking his wife's obvious discomfort.
"I stepped wrong at the top of the stairs," she whined.
"Let's get you onto the couch and elevate that leg," he said, taking over from Michael.
"Welcome! I'm Carmella Rossini, and you must be Michael Bower."
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Rossini. I've heard so much about you. Thank you for including me in your holiday celebration." He offered a handshake.
"So formal, so handsome," Mrs. Rossini said, going for a hug. "Ooh. I see where Jonathan gets his good looks," she said, pinching his cheeks.
"Angela warned me about that," he said, rubbing his palms across the mild injuries.
Mona, Jonathan, and finally Sam made their way inside and she closed the door behind them. Mona handed a bottle of wine to her nemesis, leaving her only one hand to pinch Sam and Jonathan.
"Come on, squirt. Let's go out on the fire escape," Sam said.
Once Angela was seated on the couch, Tony put her left leg up, took off her shoe and prodded at her ankle. "It's fine. I barely twisted it," she said.
"Sometimes you can walk off an injury and later you find out you shouldn't have," Tony protested. "Lemme get you some ice."
"We don't have any ice," Mrs. Rossini said. "The freezer is full of veal."
Jojo crawled across Joey's lap and started reaching for Angela. "Look, he likes her. Must be because she put on some weight," Mrs. Rossini observed. Angela turned and shot her a look. "It's a good thing, sweetie. Nobody wants to cuddle up to a skeleton."
"At least keep it elevated for a while," Tony suggested.
"I'd love a glass of wine," Mona prodded.
"So would I," Michael said under his breath.
Tony felt for the two novices. Even he was no longer accustomed to the chaos of a Brooklyn holiday. His desire for control kicked in. He held out his hand and took the wine bottle. "Mrs. Rossini, you might wanna make sure the kids didn't let the cat out. Michael, sit down and don't let Angela get up. Mona, help me with the wine." He glanced over to see his wife having a quiet exchange of nonsense words with Jojo on her lap, as Michael stepped over her propped-up leg and squeezed in next to Joey on the couch. "Angela, you can keep making funny faces at the baby," he said, as if anyone could stop her.
Theresa was salting a large pot of water when Tony and Mona walked in. Dinner would be ready soon, he figured, since ravioli were always the last dish to be cooked. "We need six wine glasses," Tony said, opening a cupboard and starting to pull them out two by two.
"Don't we need eight?" Mona asked.
"Angela and I will be designated drivers. That way you and Michael can drink as much as you need to get through this," Tony offered, finding a corkscrew.
"Maybe Angela wants to drink," Theresa said. "I haven't had a drink in a year and a half."
"Oh, she's not a big drinker," Tony said. He picked up the open wine bottle and two glasses and started for the door.
"Not lately, anyway," Mona added over her shoulder, picking up four glasses and following. She poured the bottle into the six glasses at the table while Tony went to the window and called in the kids, who were leaning over the railing and talking to Charlie.
Mrs. Rossini and Theresa started bringing dishes to the table. After a couple of trips, Theresa realized that Jojo was asleep against Angela's chest. "Oh, I'll go put him down in the other room," she said.
"They're so cute at that age," Michael said. "I wish I'd been around more when Jonathan was a baby, but all I can do is be here now," he said, getting up and offering to help Angela to the table.
"I'm good now. Thank you," she said, walking carefully in her bare feet.
Jonathan told everyone where to sit. He put Tony, Angela, and Michael on one side of the table with Joey. On the other side, he put Sam, Mona, and himself with Theresa and Mrs. Rossini. Joe and Joseph sat at the ends. While they enjoyed the meal, Mrs. Rossini shared all of the neighborhood gossip for the past year. She opened a second and third bottle of wine before asking about the family's time in Arizona. They glossed over the issue of Nick's death.
"We were living in Mesa, which is a suburb of Phoenix, so we had a nice big house in a quiet neighborhood," Tony explained. "I was a warehouse supervisor. Angela worked in finance at the school district to start and ended up as Chief of Communications for the state department of education," he said proudly.
"I remember you saying you type fast," Theresa said to her.
"That's not exactly…you know what? Never mind. I do type fast," Angela said.
"Way to go," Michael said quietly.
"I played basketball and softball," Sam said.
"What did you do, Jonathan?" Mrs. Rossini asked.
"I took computer classes and started playing clarinet. Oh! And I had a gecko named Ronald Reagan."
"Could have warned me about the clarinet," Michael muttered to Angela. Jonathan had subjected him to over an hour of practice the day before.
"Mona, how did you keep yourself busy?" Joseph asked.
"I took care of the kids, worked at a restaurant, and spent time with my boyfriend Ricky," Mona said. "In fact, I'm going back for a few months soon."
"Oh dear. So the men of New York and Connecticut will continue to go unentertained?" Mrs. Rossini joked.
"We went to the Grand Canyon," Tony interrupted. "It was our first family vacation." He thought he'd be able to segue into an announcement about their family being official, but the words didn't come to him.
"Hey Michael, Ma says you make stag films," Joey said.
"Nature documentaries," Michael corrected.
"Oh, too bad."
"I love the work, but it took me away from my family for too long," he said, looking over at Jonathan. "Fortunately, I was able to get out of the field and into a desk job so I can spend my time with the people I love." He gave Angela a soft smile, which she returned.
"What happened to your wife?" Mrs. Rossini asked, not bothering with tact.
"Oh, our divorce was finalized over the summer. Heather was too young for me. It turns out she didn't really want to settle down. She just wanted adventure."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Mrs. Rossini said. "Well, Angela, did you ever expect to get remarried?"
"I hoped," she responded, "but I never thought it would happen like this."
"Check out this great ring," Michael said, holding up Angela's left hand.
She giggled and wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "It's not the size that matters. It's the thought that counts."
"Absolutely!" Michael said. He was doing his best to be supportive in his tipsy state, but every time he opened his mouth, Tony wished he could shove a sock in it.
"Tony, could you help me get the dessert?" Mrs. Rossini asked. "What are you gonna do?" she demanded once they were in the kitchen.
"What do you mean, what am I gonna do?" he asked.
"Are you and Sam going to keep living in Connecticut?"
"Yeah, of course we are."
"And Michael doesn't mind?"
"He's the one that's new in town," Tony said. "Besides, everything is going well between us so far."
"You're so openminded," she said. They brought the dessert and small plates to the table.
"So, Angela, have you set a date?" Theresa asked.
"We kind of eloped," Angela blurted out. The table erupted in a cacophony of loud discussion, utensils dropping on plates, and glassware bumping around. Jojo began crying in the other room and Theresa ran to pick him up.
"They didn't really elope," Sam insisted, standing on her chair. "It was a proper wedding. They just didn't invite anyone from around here."
"Yeah!" Jonathan said, backing her up.
"I'm like the mother you never had, Angela," Mrs. Rossini cried. "How could you not invite me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" a drunken Mona yelled. The two women started swatting at each other and pulling hair.
"Hey!" Tony yelled. "Hey!" Slowly everyone stopped their tantrums, including Jojo. "When Angela and I got married, we didn't know if or when we'd be coming home."
"What?" Mrs. Rossini asked, dumbfounded. "You and Angela?" She made her way over to the couple and wedged herself between them. "You, Tony, and you, Angela? You got married?"
"Yes," they responded in unison.
"Why?" she asked, stepping back.
"Because we realized that we weren't pretending to be a couple. We were really in love with each other," Angela explained, looking over at Tony.
"That's right," he said, getting lost in her eyes. He put an arm around her waist.
"They do this all the time," Jonathan complained, earning a smack from his grandmother.
"Kiss," Theresa said, holding the baby. Soon, everyone was chanting the word.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The wine rippled in its glasses as Joey and Joseph pounded on the table.
Tony and Angela mirrored each other, one arm around the waist and one hand gliding up the other's jaw and to the back of their head. The kiss was restrained by their standards, but full of passion nonetheless. The room broke out in applause and cheers.
"We have to have a big wedding," Mrs. Rossini said, already planning the reception in her head.
"No, we've already been through the stress of organizing a wedding once this year," Tony said. "We need to work on the day-to-day stuff now. Did I mention I started going to college?"
The topic of conversation moved to Tony's education and career aspirations. Once dessert was gone, he tried to help clean up, but Mrs. Rossini shunned his offer. "Go back to Connecticut with your new wife, and get rid of the redhead and the third wheel," she said, gesturing toward Michael and Mona, who were performing an exaggerated tango behind the couch. The six of them left Brooklyn before sunset.
"Can I stay with Daddy again tonight?" Jonathan asked from the back seat as they entered Fairfield.
"Sure, pal. If it's alright with your mom," Michael said.
"You don't want to go Black Friday shopping?" Angela teased her son.
"No way, Mom! I can't believe you'd fall for those door busters and loss leaders. It's all bait and switch!"
"He's your kid," Michael said.
"We can pick him up around 9am, on our way home from the mall," she told him.
Angela parked Michael's car and kissed Jonathan goodbye, getting into the back seat of her jag with Samantha for the short ride through town. Mona was passed out in the passenger's seat.
"Pretty good Thanksgiving," Angela said.
"Didn't have to cook, didn't have to clean," Tony said. "And we'll be home in time for Alka Seltzer and 'It's a Wonderful Life.'"
"Aww, do I have to watch it with you?" Sam complained.
"You're not even invited," Tony teased.
"I'll stay in my room and you two can make out on the couch."
"Sounds good to me!" he said.
Mona waited until she had sobered up before calling Ricky. "Happy Thanksgiving," she cooed.
"Happy Thanksgiving, sugar. How was Brooklyn?" he asked.
"A little crazy, but I still have most of my hair," she said. "How was your day?"
"Not bad. I watched the parade, talked to Kevin and Kelly and all the kids, and played a round of golf with my buddy, Max. We had dinner at the nineteenth hole."
"Do you miss me?"
"Of course I do. I'm glad we can talk every day, and I can't wait for those pictures you promised me."
"You should get them tomorrow."
"I won't look at them until I get you on the phone."
"Ricky, I was thinking. How do you feel about Christmas in Connecticut?"
"It's a good picture."
"I'm serious. Let's come back east a few days. There's a jacuzzi tub in my apartment. We can celebrate our anniversary and wake up together on Christmas morning, only this time, you won't have to sneak out."
"You're very persuasive, Mona."
"I know."
By the time Jimmy Stewart started ranting about how he just wanted to live again, Angela had dissolved into tears. Tony handed her a box of tissues and adjusted the blanket they were sharing. "It feels like we got a second chance to live, doesn't it?" he asked, muting the credits. The television was the only light in the dark living room.
"Uh huh," she sobbed. "I didn't know how much I missed home until we got back."
"Me too, but it's so much better now that we're together, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yeah, it is. I'm glad the Rossinis know about us now."
"So am I. I'm sorry I didn't manage to tell Mrs. Rossini sooner. It just felt weird. I always insisted that you were just my friendly boss."
"When we tell her about the baby, it will have to be over the phone. Less danger of cheek pinching and hair pulling that way."
"And no Michael to confuse her. This is a Micelli baby, and I won't let anyone forget it."
"Speaking of that. I think I should change my name now. Angela Micelli has a nice ring to it."
"Oh yeah?" Tony said. "I mean, yeah, it does."
"I was considering keeping my old name for Jonathan, but now that his dad seems to be sticking around, he won't be the only Bower."
"Then everyone will know you're my wife," he said, giving her a peck on the lips.
"That's what I want, Tony. I want everyone to know I love you more than all the stars in the sky."
"Oh, Angela. I want everyone to know, too, but we've got to be a little quieter. Poor Sam couldn't even look at me this morning."
"You're the one making me scream," she said in a low voice, leaning in to kiss him.
"One of these days, when we have an empty house, I'm going to make you scream right here on this couch," he promised.
"We could go in my office and…play secretary," she suggested.
"Alright!" Tony cheered as quietly as possible. He picked Angela up and carried her to the couch in the den, where they shed their clothes and kept each other warm without a blanket.
Friday, November 28, 1986
Tony, Angela, and Sam went to the Fairfield mall at dawn. All of the department stores were having huge sales, and the kids needed more winter gear. Sam was the first to spot Marci and say hello.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh. My. God." Marci was as white as a sheet. "We went to your funeral," she said.
"Yeah, we had to fake our deaths and move to Arizona after my grandpa got murdered by mobsters," Sam told her casually.
"Wow, that's so cool. Sorry about your grandpa."
"Thanks. Are you here with your dad?"
"Yeah, my dad and his fiancé," she said, rolling her eyes. She pointed at a couple in the next department. "They started dating just after you left."
"Whoa. Well, at least your dad's fridge won't be such a nightmare anymore."
Marci shielded her eyes from the overhead lights. "I see your dad, Sam. Who's the lady?" she asked, watching Tony interact with a slender, dark-haired woman.
"That's Angela. They got married."
"Huh. Just like you always thought they would. Where's Jonathan?"
Sam rolled her eyes. "He's staying with his dad."
"Oh, in California?" Marci confirmed.
"No, Michael Bower moved to Fairfield." She said the name with derision. Her friend already knew why she wasn't a fan of the guy.
"Oh. Well, we should hang out," she said, hoping to get the full story when there were no parents around. "Do you still have the same phone number?"
"Yeah, Marci. Do you?"
"Yeah. I can't wait for you to come back to school, Sam. You'll be the most popular kid in eighth grade. I mean, nobody has come back from the dead before."
"Your dad's coming over here," Sam said. "Is that Dr. Schaeffer?"
"Uh huh. She's actually really nice to me. I think it's because she's scared I'm going to ruin her relationship."
"Maybe she's just a nice person, Marci." Isabel had always been kind to Sam, even though she was just her friend's housekeeper's daughter.
"Your dad's coming over here, too. Angela looks good with dark hair."
"You think so, too? It's her natural color."
Tony and Angela spotted Paul and Isabel and the two couples began walking slowly toward each other. Sam and Marci ignored them and kept browsing the sale. Tony had a firm grip on Angela to make sure she stayed upright.
"You're alive!" Isabel said in shock, touching her friend's arm just to make sure she wasn't an apparition.
"Good diagnosis, Dr. Shaeffer," Tony mumbled. "Hi Dr. Ferguson," he said, offering a handshake to a silent Paul.
"You're together!" Angela countered. She clocked the engagement ring on Isabel's left hand.
"We're getting married on New Year's Eve," Paul said, finally finding his voice. "The invitations went out already, but we have a few extras. You have to come."
"I have one in my purse," Isabel said, finding an envelope and handing it to Angela.
"We'll be there. Right honey?" Angela asked Tony.
"Of course, sweetheart," he responded.
Alerted by the terms of endearment, as well as the familiar body language, Isabel realized that she wasn't the only one with a ring on her finger. "You're engaged, too?" she asked Angela. "To each other?" she verified, looking at Tony.
"We're married," he responded with a broad smile, causing Paul and Isabel to laugh in joyous surprise.
"Congratulations, Tony!" Paul said, giving his friend a slap on the back. "Best wishes to you, Angela," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"How wonderful," Isabel said. "You know, you two were really the reason we got together. It was so sad to think that you died without telling each other how you felt."
"I didn't realize you knew," Angela said shyly.
"I kinda spilled my guts to Paul after we kissed on your birthday," Tony confessed to her. "When we moved to Phoenix, we were only supposed to be pretending that we were together, but Angela pretends real good. I had to make an honest woman of her," he explained to Paul.
"Don't tell anyone, but we had to move up our wedding when I found out I was pregnant a couple of weeks ago," Isabel admitted.
"Oh, that's great, Isabel. I'm so happy for you!" Angela said, keeping her own pregnancy secret for the moment.
"Thank you. We weren't planning to have another so soon, but we're excited about it."
"Well, we have lots of shopping to do," Tony said. "It was great to see you two."