Chapter Eleven: Agency

Saturday, December 20, 1986

Once the kids were in their rooms for the night, Tony pulled everything out of the cardboard box Bambi had turned over to him and set it on the coffee table. "The entirety of Nick's estate was left to Sam," he had told Angela, "but I gotta make sure there's nothing inappropriate in there. You never can tell with a guy like that." It was mostly family snapshots and documents. He picked up a picture of Nick standing by a hospital bed. A very young woman sat holding a baby swaddled in a striped blanket. "Sam was two days old here," Tony said proudly.

Angela put on her glasses and studied the photo. Marie was stunningly beautiful, even without makeup. She had just been through a difficult birth, though, and there were signs. She was pale and worn, worried but proud. Sam was tiny, even compared to her petite mother, and she had an impressive amount of dark hair, but no discernable eyebrows. "How big was she?" Angela asked, clocking Tony's wistful smile as he looked on.

"Five pounds, two ounces, eighteen inches long," he recited from memory.

She tried to do a quick calculation in her head but got lost. The exact number of ounces didn't matter; Sam was much smaller than Jonathan had been, and she remembered being startled at how little he was the first time he was placed in her arms. "How early?" she asked.

"Nineteen days before her due date. Listen, Angela, I know you're curious, but can we not get into the details right now?" He was pained by the prospect of reliving one of the worst times in his life. More than that, he dreaded telling the story again. It was traumatic to hear, and his pregnant wife didn't need any more stress.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine, honey. I would rather just wait until we know Sheila and baby Simon are healthy before we have this discussion," Tony said. Angela had spoken with her friend earlier in the day and learned that she was being admitted for observation for the remainder of her pregnancy. A Caesarean was tentatively scheduled for a week from Sunday.

"Does Sam know everything that happened when she was born?"

He sighed. "No, and I don't think she'll be able to handle it until she's older. I'd like to wait until we're done," he said, referring to their vague plan to have more children. "She already worries about you."

Angela swallowed around the lump in her throat and picked up another picture. Sam was about four years old, sitting in Nick's lap as he read The Velveteen Rabbit. "He loved being a grandfather, didn't he?"

"He loved his girls," Tony said. "You know, he was on and off with Marie's mother for ages. She would break up with him over some indiscretion and then he would make it up to her with grand romantic gestures. And as soon as they were settled, he would do something else to land in the doghouse."

"How did she die?" Angela asked, unable to keep herself from bringing up another sad topic.

"Aneurysm. Sam was Jonathan's age, almost ten."

"She's lost a lot of people she loved. It's a wonder she's still so open-hearted."

"Yeah. Well, life goes on," he muttered, picking up a picture of Marie with both of her parents on the day of her high school graduation. He rifled through the rest of the items and determined that Sam could be shown everything in the stash. Angela looked on passively, afraid to push her husband any further.

"Maybe you should go through this stuff with Sam," she suggested. "She's going to have questions, and you can tell her some stories."

He nodded and changed the subject. "Can I see some more of Jonathan's pictures?" he asked, gesturing to the Robinson and Bower photo albums sitting on the desk. They had been brought down when the cello went back into storage, abandoned by Angela for more professional pursuits. The house could only handle one fledgling musician at a time, and Jonathan showed more promise with the clarinet.

All of the baby pictures he'd seen in the past were carefully curated. He knew one of the albums had to contain some outtakes, but he didn't feel comfortable looking at her memories alone. He was sure evidence of the Bower's happy times still existed. She didn't seem the type to destroy it.

"That light blue one," she said. He got up and pulled it out of the stack, opening the cover on his way back to the couch. A gorgeous image of Angela in profile with her hands under her belly greeted him. "I was six months along when Michael got back from Kenya," she explained. "He took that the next day."

"You look beautiful," Tony breathed. She had light brown hair in the photo, similar to Jess' first dye job, but it was much longer than he had ever seen it.

"Thank you for saying that."

"It's true, Ange." No wonder Michael wanted to document her that way. He must have been kicking himself for staying away so long.

"I felt like a walrus. It hadn't even been three years since I got down to a healthy weight. I wasn't really eager to be pregnant, to be honest. I certainly wasn't ready to be a mom. I just wanted Michael to stick around. It didn't work, obviously," she said bitterly.

Tony put the album in his lap and listened. He struggled to understand how anyone could resist Angela's magnetism. "Maybe he's not cut out for marriage," he thought aloud. "Heather sure didn't last long."

"No, he wasn't," she said, thinking back to their engagement with the benefit of her additional years. If only she hadn't gotten impatient and proposed, maybe he wouldn't have always been on the run. "He's a good person, though, and he loved me when nobody else ever had. I was scared to let go for the longest time." Her voice lost strength, since she was unable to take a breath. "Even after we separated, even when I hated him, I still wished he loved me more," she confessed in a whisper.

He put a hand on her back and circled his thumb on her shoulder blade. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. We all wanna be loved. And for what it's worth, I adore you. I always have, and I always will," he said sincerely.

"I know, darling. Gosh, I'm such a jerk," she said. "Why am I blubbering over some guy I don't even want to be with anymore?"

"I get it, baby. Michael is back in your life again, and he's been good to Jonathan. Of course there's a part of you that wonders why you couldn't make it work."

"Actually, I wonder why I couldn't keep him interested," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "Maybe you'll get bored with me, too,"

"Never," he said, lifting her chin and kissing her softly. "Tell me what Jonathan was like as a baby," he requested.

"He was so smart," she said, cheering up and launching into a soliloquy on her young son's brilliance.

Dear Seth,

I heard my mom talking to your parents on the phone. I'm sorry your mom has to stay in the hospital while she waits for the baby to be born. Did they decide on a name?

I'm not sure I want to be a big brother. My real dad says it's going to be fun, but not right away. Sam is excited about it. My mom is going to adopt her, so I guess she'll be my big sister for real.

It's good to be out of school for a couple weeks. My old friends are in another class now and I don't really know the kids in my new class yet. I have one friend from before, Jenny. She's a girl, but she's OK.

How is Ronald Reagan? I asked my real dad for a computer and a Komodo dragon for Christmas. He said he would have to talk to my mom and Tony about it. That's a no, I think. "Maybe" always means no. I'll let you know what I end up getting.

Sincerely,

Jonathan

Sunday, December 21, 1986

"Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Micelli," Tony whispered into Angela's ear. She had already been to the Social Security office to initiate her name change. He snuggled close behind her, kissing her neck and groping her chest through her poplin pajamas.

"Ah. Is this our anniversary?" she asked playfully, arching against him.

"We did start sharing a bedroom a year ago," he reminded her.

"That's true," she mumbled, "but I don't think that's the reason."

"No?" He deftly unbuttoned her top halfway so he could get more contact.

She giggled. "I remember waking up on our last morning in the motel with your hand on my boob and your morning wood poking at me."

"You liked it," he teased. "Your heart was beating as fast as mine," he recalled, sliding his palm up her chest to feel the thumping underneath. It was more subdued than a year earlier, when she felt as much fear as excitement.

"I loved it," she said, undoing her last two buttons and shrugging off her top as she turned over to kiss him, "but this is even better." She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and chest. "Wanna celebrate?" she asked, reaching down. His response was unintelligible, but they hardly needed words for what they were about to do.

"Sam, honey, can you bring these hors d'oeuvres out?" Tony asked, holding a plate of mini quiches.

"Sure, Dad," she said, carrying them through the swinging door. "I don't understand why we're trying to impress this guy," she complained to Jonathan.

"He probably has other options than working with Mom," he guessed. "And I heard them say he has money."

The doorbell rang, and Tony rushed past the kids. "Welcome!" he said, sweeping his arm out. "These are our children."

"Samantha and Jonathan," Jack said, stepping into the living room. "Hello. I'm Jack Ballantine. It's nice to meet you. Oh, what's that?" He pulled a ten dollar bill from behind Jonathan's ear and handed it to him.

"Whoa!" he said, checking the currency for signs of counterfeiting. "It's real!"

"Unlike some people, I wash behind my ears," Sam joked, slightly offended that Jonathan had gotten such a good party favor. "You can call me Sam," she let him know.

He made a fist and pulled a bit of colorful fabric from it. "This is for you, Sam," he said, offering it up. She tugged at the corner with two fingers at first. By the time she got to the end of the scarf, she was pulling hand over fist as the item kept changing color. Finally, a thin black dress sock came out. He pulled up his pant leg and revealed a bare ankle. "Oops! Can I get that back?" he asked her.

Sam rolled her eyes and handed Jack the whole wad of material. "That was pretty good," she conceded. "Better than my dad making a quarter disappear, anyway."

"Hey," Tony protested.

Angela applauded from the kitchen doorway. "Very impressive!" she said. "Salad is made," she told Tony. He gave her arm an affectionate squeeze as he passed by her to finish cooking. "Thanks for coming out to the suburbs, Jack. "

"Oh, it's good to get out of Manhattan once in a while. You have a lovely home. Great tree!" He appreciated how warm and festive the atmosphere was. The Micellis were a nice, normal family, just as he'd suspected from everything he'd learned while dating Shirley Grant. He was glad she had never succeeded in tracking them down and disrupting their life in Arizona.

"Dinner is served. Come on into the dining room," Tony announced.

By the time the meal was finished, everyone was thoroughly charmed By Jack. The kids were excused from the table, and the adults lingered to discuss the potential business partnership. Tony cleaned the kitchen while Jack presented name and logo ideas to Angela in her office.

Mona filed her nails as Ricky paced across the living room and attempted to impart advice to his daughter. "Kelly, she's taking advantage of you. I don't care if she's Chandler's cousin. Get him to kick her out!"

He caught her eyes and shook his head as he listened. "I know she said she would help with the baby, but it sounds like she's just in your way," he said, exasperated.

"Well, what did your mom say?" he asked, petting Libby in an attempt to calm himself, as she lounged happily on the arm of a chair.

"She's right, you know." Kelly had been trying to pit her parents against each other her whole life, and it rarely worked.

"We are not ganging up on you. We're trying to help. You know, I had to evict a lot of people from the hotel when you were a kid. I'm willing to come out there and deal with Trish myself, if Chandler won't."

"I thought so. Listen, I love you. Good luck with everything. Let me know if I need to talk some sense into your husband, ok? Give Baldwin and Cory hugs from Grandpa. Their Christmas presents should be arriving tomorrow."

"Bye, sweetheart," Ricky said, hanging up the phone. "Kids!" he complained to Mona.

"It's funny," she said. "My daughter had a sorority sister named Trish. The girl was a total maneater, and that's coming from me!"

"Oh, sugar, you're not a maneater. You just enjoy male companionship" he assured her, sitting down and putting an arm over her. "Kelly's Trish is a monster. She taps into people's insecurities and uses them to get whatever she wants."

"Well, I hope she spends Christmas alone like she deserves."

"Not a chance. She'll be holed up in a hotel room with some schmuck who thinks they'll still be together come New Year's," he predicted. "Speaking of which, should I bring my tux to Connecticut?"

"You bet. I've got a silver number that makes me look like a goddess."

"You always look like a goddess, sugar, because you are one," he said with an adoring gaze.

"Let's go in the bedroom," she suggested.

"To pack?" he asked.

"No."

"Knock knock!" Tony said, poking his head through the door of Angela's office. She and Jack were sitting on the love seat together laughing their heads off. "It's almost ten," he informed them.

"Where does the time go?" Angela mused. "We've been having the best brainstorming session."

"I should let you get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow," Jack promised, getting up and extending a hand to help her to her feet.

"Good night, Jack," Tony grumbled, showing him out the door.

"He really stimulates me," Angela said with a dreamy expression. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been so excited about advertising. It could be mundane work, contrary to its glamorous image. The prospect of working with startups and established organizations seeking a change was thrilling, though, and Jack had no problem understanding the economic concepts she'd introduced to him. He was surprisingly intelligent and had natural business acumen.

"He stimulates you?" Tony asked.

"I'm lucky he came along at the right time," she said.

He couldn't let go of his wariness. The man had been an accessory to a felony, with his wife as the target, and here she was singing his praises.

Monday, December 22, 1986

"Morning, Dad," Sam said, seeing a reddened, sweatsuit-clad Tony fiddling with the coffeemaker. "How was your workout?"

"Morning," he said distractedly.

"What time did Jack end up leaving?" she asked, getting the orange juice out of the fridge and sitting down to pour a glass.

He pushed the button to start brewing and joined his daughter at the table. "Ten-ish. So what did you think of him?"

"He's really nice," she said, taking a sip. "And Angela likes him. That's the important thing."

"You think he's cute?" he asked under his breath, looking away.

Sam narrowly avoided doing a spit take. "What?" she asked when she had recovered.

"I was just wondering," Tony said, trying to appear casual. "You think Jack's cute?"

"No way. Why would you ask that?" The guy was old and goofy.

"I dunno," he mumbled.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," she said, taking her dad by the shoulders. "Angela is madly in love with you. I know you know she dumped a glass of water on her old boss when he hit on her last week."

"How do you know that?" he asked, wondering why he had bothered bribing the bagger at the market to spy during his night job.

"Misty's brother's best friend's cousin is a valet at La Fleur. Everyone is talking about it."

"Oh."

Jonathan came through the door rubbing his eyes. "Mom wants you," he told Tony.

"What does she need?" he asked, hoping to save a trip.

"I don't know. She's still asleep," he said, sitting down at the table.

"Then how do you know she wants me?" he asked.

"She was saying, 'Tony, I want you!'" he said, imitating his mother's plaintive call.

"Oh my god," Sam snickered. "I'll make breakfast. You go do whatever you need to do up there, stud," she told her dad, getting up and patting him on the back.

He shot her a look but went with a grunt of gratitude.

"What's that mean?" Jonathan asked after he was gone.

"Nothing," she said. "Pancakes?"

Tuesday, December 23, 1986

"Congratulations," the banker said, taking his pen back from Angela after she signed the last form. She and Jack had secured a revolving line of credit, along with a five-year loan.

"Thank you. We need to get to our other appointment," Jack told him. The commercial real estate agent was meeting them at two-fifteen.

"I told Tony two o'clock," Angela informed Jack, on their way out. "He's probably already there," she said, checking her watch. "Do you mind walking?"

"Not at all. It's only four blocks." As a city-dweller, he was used to getting around on foot, or by subway.

"I'm glad we'll have a dedicated parking area," she said, taking his arm. It was a beautiful day, but she prayed the weather forecast was right about the cold snap and precipitation headed their way.

When the two arrived at their new office suite, Sam and Jonathan were slumped against a wall with their arms crossed, while Tony grilled the commercial real estate agent about maintenance and safety issues. "Hello again," he greeted Jack and Angela, relieved. "You're lucky my other tenant fell out of contract. As soon as you sign off on the walk-through, I'll hand over the keys and get out of your hair," he promised them.

Aside from a broken blind and scratched floors, the space was in good condition. Tony agreed that he couldn't find any major issues, try as he did. Angela negotiated a credit for the repairs and the partners applied their signatures to the lease and addenda. "I'll handle the workers and schedule the furniture delivery," Jack promised. "We'll be open for business on January second."

"Thank you so much," Angela said.

"It'll keep me busy," he replied, wandering over to look at the blinds again.

"Tony, would you mind if I invited Jack over for Christmas dinner?" she whispered. "I feel bad that he's all alone for the holidays."

"Go ahead. He can be Michael's date," Tony joked. The truth was that he was looking forward to hosting a big celebration, after the dismal Christmas they had had the year before. Thanksgiving had been fun, despite the chaos. Mrs. Rossini was still nursing a grudge against them for their lack of religious devotion, but he was sure she would drop it soon.

"Jack, would you like to join us for Christmas dinner? It'll be the four of us, plus my mother and her boyfriend and Jonathan's father."

"Really? Oh, that would be fantastic! Is there anything I can bring? My family's traditional mince pies are a real treat."

"Sure, but don't be offended if the kids refuse to try it. We'll eat at six," she let him know. "Oh, we need to go pick up my mother now. Tony!" she called.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"You're downstairs, right? I'm still parked by the bank. Could you drop me off over there, and I'll follow you to the airport?"

"Sure. Come on, kids! See you soon, Jack!"

"Bye! I'm looking forward to the festivities!" he said, waving from the doorway of the office. He went back inside and pulled a measuring tape out of his pocket, double-checking that the furniture he and Angela had chosen would fit well in the space. After he arranged the refinishing of the floors and the delivery of the furniture, he sat down at his drafting table with a set of colored pencils and began designing a greeting card promoting the new partnership. The press release had already been hashed out, and a temp firm was sending a clerical worker to help get them started. Three hours later, he had a collection of pieces ready. He checked the time and put on his coat. There were a few more things he needed to buy.

Tony took the kids to JFK in his Jeep and paused at the curb, saving two spaces. When Angela appeared in his rear-view mirror a minute later, he pulled forward enough to allow her to park behind him. "There they are!" Jonathan yelled.

Mona and Ricky had a luggage cart with a soft-sided dog carrier balanced on top of several suitcases. "Hello, family!" she yelled. Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around, and Angela handed her keys over to her mother.

"Be careful. It's a very expensive car," she said.

"Don't worry, I'm driving," Ricky insisted. "If that's alright with you, Angela," he added.

"Sure, I trust you," she said. "See you back at the house."

"Awfully nice of you to let your future stepdad drive your jag," Tony joked.

"I'm an awfully nice person, if you haven't noticed," she said.

Libby flitted around enjoying the attention from her long-lost family. Eventually, she curled up on Angela's lap and settled against her bump. There was a fire burning and the tree was surrounded with an abundance of gifts, many brought in from Phoenix in suitcases. Mona played cards with the kids. In the kitchen, Tony gave Ricky the game plan. They would prepare the holiday meal in tandem.

"So, you're officially a Freshman at Ridgemont University, and Angela is officially a Micelli. What else did I miss?" Ricky asked after getting his side dish assignments.

"She's an entrepreneur! Wait until you meet Jack. I had my doubts about the guy, but it seems like he's the real deal."

"I'm looking forward to meeting Jonathan's father. Mona didn't have anything nice to say about him before you all came back to Connecticut, but she's changed her tune."

"Michael has been great. It's funny, I actually like the guy. He's real smart and has a good sense of humor. It's no wonder Jonathan idolizes him."

"You don't feel like he's poaching your kid?"

"Jonathan is his son. If anything, I feel bad for taking him away. They need each other."

"Hmmm," Ricky said. "You don't think he's trying to get Angela back?"

"Nah, they're past that. She got back with him once and they figured out it was over pretty fast."

"It's been nice having Mona in Phoenix, but I can tell she misses her family. I don't know what we're going to do in the spring."

"You thinking about making it permanent?"

"I want to. But she's a little hard to pin down."

"No kidding," Tony chuckled. "She did spend a bundle on that watch of yours, though. That's not her usual move. It's gotta mean something."

"Where did you get your wedding rings? I'm thinking she'd appreciate one more dash of sparkle."

"Fairfield Jewelers, but they're closed on Christmas Eve," he said, remembering the special holiday hours posted in the window.

"There's no rush. I'm thinking New Year's Eve."