Chapter Twelve: Christmas at the Micelli House
Wednesday, December 24, 1986
After passing Libby off to Tony for an early morning walk, Mona and Ricky lounged in bed working on a crossword puzzle together. "Pulitzer winner of 1958 James, four letters," he said, tapping his pen absently with his index finger. "Last letter is an E."
"Agee," she replied confidently.
"What do you know? It fits," he marveled. "Next one: Flier, eight letters."
"Handbill. Bulletin. Pamphlet," she rattled off.
He shook his head. "There's a U in the middle."
"Aeronaut," she guessed, switching definitions.
"It's the fifth letter," he clarified.
"Hmmm, try 'circular.'"
"Wow, you really are sharp," he said, filling in the last few squares and putting the paper aside.
"Thank you, dear," she said, sliding across the satin sheets and cozying up to him.
He took her hand and held it against his heart. "I've been meaning to ask you something, sugar," he said, looking deep into her eyes.
"Yes?" she said, a little too eagerly. She wondered if he had heard her breath catch in her throat.
"Mona, you're an amazing woman. There's no limit to the things you're capable of achieving. But how did those footprints get on the ceiling?"
She released a shaky huff, nearly laughing. "Some things are better left to the imagination," she teased. Her heart started to return to its normal pace as she let her guard down.
"And some things are better than anything I could have ever imagined," he said seriously, turning toward her and pushing her hair back. "When Cassie Walsh invited me back to her place a year ago, I never thought it would lead me here."
"Hey, I was just in it for the gifts," she deflected, sinking back against the pillow and pulling him to kiss her.
"I've spoiled a lot of women over the years, but nobody's ever shown their gratitude quite the way you did," he said earnestly.
"What can I say? I wanted something from you that money can't buy." Her leg wrapped over his to signal her intentions.
"Oh, is that so?" he asked, repositioning himself. "I was going to suggest we have some coffee, but I'd rather have you."
"Again? Why not?" she giggled, thankful that she had found someone she adored who could actually keep up with her.
Angela sat on the couch with her feet up and Libby snoring on her lap. She flipped through the January issue of AdWeek wondering if it was too late to try to get publicity for the new agency in the February issue. It was a long shot, but maybe she could have a brief profile written before she was too obviously pregnant. Wallace and McQuade was a big player in the industry, or her death would never have been newsworthy. Her legal resurrection was surely of interest, though, wasn't it?
Tony came through the door with a cup of herbal tea and a couple of shortbread cookies on the saucer. "Here, honey," he said, setting it down on the coffee table. Libby hopped down to the floor and sat expectantly. "And this is for you," he said, giving the dog a bone-shaped treat.
Angela put the magazine down. "Where is my mother? She never sleeps this late."
"I don't think she's sleeping, sweetheart," Tony said, patting Libby's side gently.
"She's with Ricky all the time. I thought she would want to see her grandchildren while she was here," Angela complained.
"And she will," he assured her, declining to mention that said grandchildren weren't even home. He knew how attached Angela was to her mother. "They're here for ten days. You'll have plenty of chances to spend time with her."
"What do you think they're going to decide about where to live? I want her to be nearby when the baby comes."
"I dunno. If you want her here, why don't you tell her that?" he asked.
"Oh, I couldn't. What if she says no? I think she still resents how much I needed her when I had Jonathan."
"Come on, Angela. You really think that? Maybe she was just pissed that Michael wasn't around for his wife and baby."
"Good morning!" Mona called. She led a shivering Ricky through the back door. He carried a paper grocery bag full of packages and set it down on the floor between the tree and the hearth. Libby ran to greet him and he picked her up for warmth.
"We're ready to get busy in the kitchen," he announced.
"But first, what's for breakfast?" she asked.
Tony chuckled. "You missed breakfast. I was about to start lunch."
"More gifts?" Angela asked in disbelief, walking over and peeking into the paper bag.
"Something fun for everyone to open tonight," Mona explained.
"Why don't I help you with lunch, Tony?" Ricky offered, letting the restless pug go free.
"Could you bring me a cup of coffee first?" Mona requested, sitting in a chair. Libby immediately jumped into her lap.
"Of course, sugar," he obliged, following Tony into the kitchen.
The front door opened, and two bundled-up young people entered. "We got Christmas movies!" Jonathan announced, unzipping his jacket while Sam took off her hat and scarf.
"Which ones?" Mona asked. "You better have picked something good."
"Gremlins, A Christmas Story, and The Shop Around the Corner," Sam said.
"Not bad," Mona judged. Ricky walked back in and handed her a mug of coffee.
"I love The Shop Around the Corner," Angela remarked.
"I figured you and Dad would watch that together," Sam responded.
"I wanna watch Gremlins tonight!" Jonathan said.
"We'll join you, but I have another tape to show Ricky later," Mona said, giving her boyfriend a wink.
"Mother!" Angela yelped. Ricky turned red and began to back away, disappearing into the kitchen without another word.
"The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!" Mona said. "Get your mind out of the gutter, dear."
After hours of cooking prep and baking, Mona, and Ricky collapsed on opposite sides of the couch, while Angela and the kids went into the kitchen to make noodles au gratin. "I should confirm the plan for tomorrow," Tony said, picking up the phone in the living room and dialing from memory. "Hey Mike. They let you go early today, huh?" He glanced over at Michael's stocking, which was hung on one end of the mantle, next to Jonathan's. Ricky's was on the other end, with the core of the family in between.
"I'm thinking six-thirty. We'll let the kids know they're not allowed downstairs until seven. Jonathan tried to get up at four last year, but we made him go back to sleep," he laughed. "Yeah, I'll make coffee, and if you want to Irish it up, be my guest."
"I never thought I'd see the day," Mona whispered to Ricky while Tony finished his call and hung up. "Michael barely showed up for Christmas when he lived here," she said quietly.
"He's gonna film the kids coming downstairs and opening presents. Not for nothin', but it's our first Christmas together as a real family, and I don't wanna leave anyone out."
"If he were still talking to his parents, he might have a family to go home to," she pointed out.
"Didn't you stop talking to your mother?" Ricky asked her.
"That's different," she objected.
"The way Angela tells it, it's pretty much exactly the same," Tony said.
"Well, I hear you're persona non grata at Mrs. Rossini's," Mona shot back. "What's that about?"
"You may not remember Thanksgiving, but Mrs. Rossini wasn't too thrilled about Angela and me getting married in front of a bunch of strangers," he said. "No offense, Ricky."
"None taken."
"I wasn't that wasted. I remember her pulling out a chunk of my hair," she fumed.
"Anyway, Angela and I went to see her after we told her we're expecting, and she had plenty to say about us not raising the kids Catholic," he summarized.
"It's a wonder someone who looks like her believes in God."
"Dinner's ready!" Jonathan announced. Libby ran right up to him and sat, practically salivating at the prospect of food.
"I'll take her out and feed her at our place," Mona said. Ricky smirked at her slip of the tongue. "Be right back."
Immediately following the meal, Tony and Angela cleaned up together while Mona and Ricky let the kids open their gifts. "Matching pajamas?" Sam said, looking at the red Stewart plaid with disdain. "All year, I do my best to avoid putting on anything the dweeb would wear, and this is my reward?"
"Come on, Sam. It'll be cool," Jonathan advocated.
"You clearly have no idea what cool is," she told him.
"Your parents are getting their own sets," Mona informed them.
"Oh boy!" Jonathan cheered.
"Oh boy," Sam deadpanned.
"Go put them on, before we start the movie," Mona ordered. The sullen teen and happy-go-lucky boy went upstairs, returning in their generously oversized pajamas. They'd be able to wear them the following year, possibly even the year after that. A six-to-nine-month version had already been purchased, as well.
"Popcorn and caffeine-free soda," Tony said, carrying a tray of drinks while Angela handled two large bowls. "Jonathan, would you do the honors?" he asked. Sam took one of the side chairs, while all four adults sat on the couch.
"Yeah!" he said, jumping up to put the movie in. The audio-visual squad would be accepting new members after the holidays, and he figured he'd be a shoo-in. He took the side chair opposite Sam. Ninety minutes later, he was in Tony's lap, hiding from the scariest scenes and clutching at his mother's arm.
"You gonna be OK by yourself?" Ricky asked him when the movie was over. "Or should we bring Libby back in to protect you?"
"I'm not afraid!" he said heading upstairs and hoping Sam would leave her door open in case he needed help.
"Good night," Sam said, following him.
Mona pulled out the two remaining packages and handed them to her daughter and son-in-law. "I expect you to be wearing these in the morning," she said. "Come on, Ricky. I'll show you what a sexy little elf I was last year," she flirted. He followed her as if under a spell.
Tony and Angela stuffed stockings, then changed and brushed their teeth before cuddling under a blanket and watching The Shop Around the Corner. They gave into their fatigue and tried to finish the movie while spooning, his arms tucked securely around her and his head on a throw pillow. He woke only long enough to turn off the TV and go back to sleep.
Thursday, December 25, 1986
It seemed as though mere minutes had passed when there was a quiet knock on the door. "Mmmmph," Angela groaned, wiping the drool off her face. Tony's bicep had caught the bulk of it.
"Honey, we fell asleep," he told her, stating the obvious. "Go up to bed. I have to let Michael in," he said as he climbed around her and draped the blanket over the back of the couch.
"Mmm-kay," she mumbled, scrunching her nose and sitting up. "Ow, my neck," she complained, getting to her feet and feeling her way along the couch to the base of the stairs while he went to the door.
"Hey," Tony said, swinging the front door open. "Come in. I'll get that," he offered, taking a large bag full of gifts.
"Morning, Tony. Morning, Angela," Michael said, wheeling in a large, hard plastic case. She only grunted in return from halfway up the stairs. "Cute jammies," he said dryly.
"Thanks. I'll make coffee," Tony said, setting the bag down near the tree and turning the colored lights back on.
By seven, the video camera was set up on a tripod and Michael was ready to capture stills. He took a sip of whiskey-and-whipped cream-fortified coffee. Tony set his mug down and turned on the stereo. Bing Crosby's Christmas Classics rotated as he lowered the needle. Within five minutes, Jonathan ambled down the stairs, delighted to find both of his dads waiting. Sam followed shortly, refusing to smile and sticking out her tongue for photos. "Can we look in our stockings?" she asked, fully aware that they wouldn't be allowed to open presents until everyone was assembled.
"Go for it," Tony said, watching them pull out oranges, chocolates, erasers, stickers, and assorted trinkets as Michael documented the discoveries. "Hot cocoa?" he offered, killing time so Angela could get a little more sleep.
"Yeah!" the kids said, running into the kitchen. While they sat at the table waiting for their beverages, Mona and Ricky brought Libby in.
"It just started snowing," she announced, prompting Sam and Jonathan to peer out the windows in the door.
"We should have a snowball fight!" he said.
"Prepare to be annihilated, dork," she warned.
Angela came down the stairs about twenty minutes later, still sleepy, but excited to open presents. Michael snapped several stills as she descended. "Don't waste your film on me," she protested.
"Come on, show me your tummy," he prompted.
"Excuse me?" she said indignantly.
He put the camera down and spoke from the heart. "There aren't any pictures of you three months along with Jonathan. Don't you want to be able to look back on this pregnancy and remember how happy you were?" he asked sincerely.
"Michael…," she said, biting her lip. Tears shone in her eyes.
"You're not jinxing it. Everything is gonna be fine," he reassured her, reaching out to wrap one arm around her shoulders. "You deserve this," he said softly. "Now let's see your profile."
She stood at the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the front door. There was really nothing to see so early in her gestation. Her red pajamas concealed any hint of a belly, but she held both hands over the slight bump. Tony silently crept across the living room and slid one arm under the flaps of her top, pushing it up under her breasts. The other hand pushed her elastic waistband down slightly, showing off her taut, rounded abdomen. Somehow, it didn't feel awkward to have her ex-husband snapping rather personal photos of them.
"Thank you, baby," Tony said, letting her cover herself again.
"Mom's up!" Jonathan said. "We can open presents now!" he told Sam. The family sat around the tree tearing open box after box, barely aware of the video camera trained on them. Michael stealthily continued taking stills. A large trash bag slowly filled with paper and tissue and ribbon. When they were finished piling up their new stuff, the kids brought it upstairs.
"Don't change yet!" Angela called. She managed to persuade even Samantha to smile as they posed together in front of the tree. Mona unfurled a red plaid onesie and handed it to her daughter. "Awww!" she cried out.
"It's pretty cute," Tony admitted. They held it between them and posed again.
"Give me that," Mona said, prying Michael's camera out of his hands. He looked at her, bewildered. "You want some pictures with your son, don't you?" she asked, rolling her eyes. Jonathan said cheese a dozen times, and he even got Sam to smile for a picture with him and his dad.
The video camera continued to record through the traditional Christmas Lindy. There were no flips or tricks this year. Tony and Angela paired off in a rather joyfully restrained dance while Ricky and Mona twirled directly to the mistletoe. Sam just swayed in place watching Jonathan attempt some outlandish choreography. Finally, after all the dancing, the entire family retired to the dining room for breakfast.
"Can we go skating tomorrow?" Jonathan asked his father. He was already becoming accustomed to being at his dad's apartment every other weekend. With the holiday, the upcoming visit would be three days instead of two.
"Sure, pal," Michael answered.
"Can Sam come?" he asked.
Angela halted before biting into her toast. "Darling, Sam might not want to—"
"Yeah, I do," Sam interrupted. "I wanna go, if that's alright," she said shyly. She and Jonathan had each received a new pair of skates, chosen with assistance from Tony, and she didn't want to seem ungrateful for the unexpected gift.
"Of course," Michael answered, "if your mom and dad don't mind, that is." He looked to Tony for approval.
"Sure, I trust you," he said, hoping he wasn't stressing his message to the point of Sam's resistance. Angela nodded in deference.
"Awesome," Jonathan said.
The television was tuned to The Disney Channel and Nickelodeon most of the afternoon, with a long break for outdoor play when the sun came out after several inches of snow had accumulated. A handful of neighborhood kids came out for a friendly snowball fight. Things had been calmer on Oak Hills Drive since Richard Welling moved away over the summer.
"Hey, would it be weird for you if I took the kids to Wollman Rink?" Michael asked Angela.
"No, I'm sure they'd love it. Jonathan's never been, and I don't think Samantha has either. You can park at the new office."
"Have you been back there, since?" he asked, referring to the last time they had been skating together, Valentine's Day 1975.
She shook her head. "No, it always felt like your place. Have you been back?"
"No." He shrugged. "I am looking forward to sharing it with Jonathan."
"You should show him where your grandparents lived. We don't really get out to the Upper East Side, and I wouldn't be able to find it anyway."
"That's a good idea."
Mona carried Libby out to join Angela and Michael in watching the young people's fun. The pug refused to step in the white stuff unless forced, preferring to do her business under the eaves of the house.
On the way in, everyone wiped their feet on the new "Micelli" doormat Michael had given the family. Ricky and Tony were busy inside, cooking up a storm. Sam and Jonathan needed warm showers after playing in the snow. Angela's neck had been bothering her since she woke up on the couch that morning, so she went for a bubble bath. She wanted to change into something nicer for dinner, anyway.
Jack arrived by taxi from the train station a little before six o'clock, bearing a large bag. He pulled out a bottle of seventeen-year-old blended Scotch whisky. "No relation, actually," he explained, pointing to the name on the bottle. "I've got those mince pies, too," he said, holding up the bag.
"Thanks, I ain't had a seventeen-year-old since high school," Tony joked, accepting the bottle and bag, as Jack pulled out a small box and held onto it. "Come on in, Jack. This is my mother-in-law, Mona Robinson, her special friend, Ricky McEvoy, and Jonathan's father, Michael Bower. Ange and the kids will be down in a minute." He went to the kitchen to stash the treats.
"Merry Christmas. It's nice to put faces with the names I've heard so much about," Jack said.
"Aperitif?" Mona offered.
"What are you drinking?" he asked, looking at her ruby-red beverage.
"Campari and soda."
"Oh, that would be perfect. Thank you."
While Mona fixed Jack's drink, he made small talk with Michael and Ricky. "The snow is almost gone already," he told them. "I watched the rain wash it away during the ride out here."
"Jack!" Angela called from the top of the stairs. "You made it. Merry Christmas!"
"I brought something for you," he replied, holding out the box as she descended. "Had them printed up yesterday. I figured we could send them out before New Years," he rambled.
She opened the box and looked through the assortment of holiday cards. They were professionally produced yet retained a handmade feel. "These are fantastic," she told him. "Could you sign them after dinner? I can get them out by the end of the weekend."
"Of course."
Jonathan came downstairs, followed shortly after by Sam. He had a sweater vest and bowtie on with his blue oxford and grey trousers. She wore a red velvet dress with tights that felt a little too juvenile. As long as she wasn't going to be seen by any of her friends, it would be alright.
The goose was done to perfection, and the sides were made with great skill. "Just gotta keep the women out of the kitchen," Tony had told Ricky when they were alone. The wine and conversation flowed freely over the dinner table. Even the kids managed not to be bored, though neither of them liked the mince pies, preferring Mona's trifle for dessert.
"Nightcap?" Tony asked, when Angela took the kids into the kitchen to clean up.
"Sounds great!" Ricky said.
"I'd love to try that scotch," Michael added.
"I'm not driving," Jack said.
Sensing potential for trouble, Mona decided to intervene. "Why don't you boys head over to the apartment? I'll help with the dishes and join you in a bit."
Ricky led the parade from the dining room, out the back door, bypassing the kitchen. While Tony found rocks glasses and poured drinks, Ricky pulled out a deck of cards. Jack began showing off some of his magic tricks, but once drinks were in hand, a game of crazy eights was kicked off. The men were already tipsy before the scotch. With the bottle on the table, dram after dram was poured. Suddenly, Ricky had a stroke of genius.
"I have cigars!" he realized aloud. "Anyone up for a smoke?" he asked.
"I need to go sign those cards," Jack remembered, feeling as though he had already done enough damage to his brain cells. "It's been fun," he said, excusing himself.
"We gotta go outside," Tony pointed out. Ricky and Michael agreed, and the three of them bundled back up to face the cold, bringing their freshly refilled glasses along. Ricky had only matches, no lighter. The breeze proved challenging, but eventually, they were all puffing away contentedly.
Mona stepped out into the dark and confronted them. "What are you idiots doing?" she asked, standing over them with her arms crossed.
"What's it look like we're doing?" Tony shot back.
"Lighten up, Mom," Michael slurred.
"You're not driving home," she informed him.
"Oh shit. I forgot I don't live here," he said.
Tony stood up and faced Michael. "I got it! You can stay in my old room," he said, pointing a finger to the sky. "Because…ha! Cuz I'm staying in your old room!" he said, cracking himself up. He tried to take another puff before he was done laughing and ended up coughing instead. The whisky he sipped to calm his throat simply burned. The agonized face he made got Michael to laugh just as hard.
"I planted my flag first," he argued.
"First is the worst, the second is the best," Tony taunted.
"Boys," Mona warned. "Be nice."
"We're just kidding around," Tony said, sitting down and putting his arm around Michael's shoulders.
"Yeah," Michael said. "We're best buds."
"If you say so," Mona said, opening her palms to the sky. "And you can stay on my couch, Ricky."
"Yes dear," he relented, opening himself up to mockery.
"I'm going inside. Hope you all had a good Christmas," she said, clearly annoyed, as she marched across the driveway.
"You're in the doghouse!" Michael teased.
"Just like the last five years of my first marriage," Ricky said.
"First?" Tony asked. "You gonna make Mona your second wife?"
"I don't know what choice I have. I can't live without her," he said dejectedly. "I've never been happier."
"Good luck, man. She's one in a million," Michael said seriously.
Jack came out in his coat and offered each of the men a handshake. "Thanks for a wonderful evening," he said. "I'm meeting the floor guys at the office at nine in the morning, or I'd stay longer. It was really fun." A cab drove by, and he jogged over to meet it.
"I'm gonna turn in, too," Ricky said stubbing out his cigar and, ambling over to the stairs.
"He gonna make it?" Michael asked, standing to watch the older man climb unsteadily. He took another puff of his cigar.
"Looks like it," Tony said. "Let's go in. I'll get you set up," he said, swigging the remainder of his drink. He, too, stubbed out his cigar and took the empty glass Ricky had left behind, taking both to the sink. He slumped against the counter for a minute, willing the room to stop spinning.
Michael nearly walked into the kitchen before he remembered to put out his cigar. He didn't bother finishing his scotch but went to the cabinet and retrieved a water glass, which he filled from the tap. Then Sam, dressed in her red pajamas, appeared with information. "Angela already went to bed," she said. "I got Jonathan to brush his teeth and go to sleep. You should go to sleep, too," she said to both of them, turning to leave. She spun around before pushing open the door. "You're not driving, are you?" she asked Michael.
"No, ma'am," he said, clumsily saluting her as she departed. "You should water, Tony. Drink some," he said. "You know what I mean."
Tony took the advice, getting himself a glass and sitting at the table. "How'd it get so late?" he asked.
"Alcohol," Michael replied with a goofy smile. "Isn't it great?"
"Yeah," Tony said. The two fell into a companionable silence while they rehydrated. "You wanna go to bed?" he asked.
"Uh huh. Separately."
"Right."
After Tony got Michael a fresh, dentist-issued toothbrush and an extra blanket, he left the old housekeeper's room and went to the primary suite. "You awake, honey?" he asked.
"Tony, you smell disgusting. Can you please go away?" Angela asked as nicely as possible. "Sleep in your old room, just for tonight," she said firmly.
"But—" he started to protest.
"I'm not trying to be mean, but if you don't leave right now, I'll throw up," she threatened.
"Fine," he huffed, going out the bedroom door and walking across the hall. He remembered that he had put Michael in his old room, and turned to go downstairs instead. With a throw pillow under his head and a small blanket tucked around his body, he passed out, starting his second night of sleep on the couch.
In the bedroom, Angela tossed and turned. She felt bad for kicking Tony out, even if he was drunk and reeking of cigar smoke. She resisted getting up until early morning, then crept across the hall to apologize. "Honey?" she whispered, closing the door behind her. She sat down next to the stinky lump and reached over to shake Tony's shoulder through the blankets.