Chapter Eighteen: Big Plans

Monday, February 2, 1987

"There's your bladder, Angela. Nice and full," Dr. Lennox chuckled. "I bet you can't wait to get out of here."

"Yeah," she agreed, unable to find the humor. The pressure had been uncomfortable even before the ultrasound transducer was laid onto her gel-covered abdomen, but she wasn't allowed to use the restroom.

"Where's the baby?" Tony asked impatiently.

Dr. Lennox continued without responding. "And there's the placenta, on the back wall of the uterus. Not over the cervix. That's good."

"Is that the baby's head?" Angela asked. This time the doctor didn't ignore his patient's question.

"Yes, bone appears white and fluid appears black. I have a good view here. Everything looks normal inside the skull. And here's the spine," he said deliberately, pointing out various shapes on the screen.

"Wow," Tony said in awe. "That's amazing."

"And the heart with its four chambers. You can see it beating, just like we heard earlier. Oh, oh, baby just turned over."

"I felt that," Angela told him.

"Do you still want to know the sex?" Dr. Lennox asked, giving the couple one last chance to opt out.

"Yes," Angela said decisively. Tony gave her hand a little squeeze of support and nodded.

"Looks like it's a girl," the doctor said matter-of-factly.

"Oh my god, honey," Tony cried. "We're having another daughter!" He covered her face in kisses without letting go of her hand. "A girl!"

"I knew it," she said, smiling at his emotional outburst. Her focus was on not wetting herself. The tears could come later.

"She's about twelve ounces right now. That's just right for her gestational age."

"How can you tell how much she weighs?" Tony pushed back.

"I took a few key measurements. The femur, the cranium…there's a formula for weight that's pretty accurate. The important thing isn't the precise estimate but making sure she stays within the typical healthy range."

"Is she developing normally?" Angela inquired.

"Yes, I was able to visualize all the structures I wanted to observe, and there were no indications of any abnormalities."

"What a relief!" she said, finally able to release breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The rest of the examination was routine. Angela and Tony had to be reminded of some things and updated on the latest best practices, but for the most part, they felt like old pros at parenthood.

"You know, if you want to do any traveling, you should consider completing that in the next month or so, while you're still relatively comfortable."

"It's OK for her to travel?" Tony asked.

"It's safe to engage in many activities at this point. A lot of couples take a babymoon during the second trimester. Just don't go sky diving."

Once Pandora's box was opened, Tony had questions about the wisdom of engaging in a number of very personal activities. Angela began to blush when he strayed from their usual routine and began delving into other acts "just in case."

The couple was sent home with fuzzy printouts of their baby girl and a stack of literature. "Maybe we should take a trip," she told him in the car. "We didn't really have a honeymoon, and who knows when we're going to be able to travel again once the baby's born."

"You want to?" he asked in surprise.

"Maybe while we're away, we could try a couple of those things you asked about," she said coyly.

"Yeah?" He bit down on the inside of his cheek to help him suppress a massive grin. "I have Spring Break coming up. That's around the time your mother was planning to come back. Maybe she could stay with the kids then."

"Jack and I will have to discuss it, but I'm sure I can take the week off work. I'll have my travel agent pull together some options."

"There's always Jamaica," he reminded her. "Remember how we talked about going?"

"Of course I remember, sweetheart. If we can figure out the logistics, Jamaica would be wonderful."

Angela left for work as soon as they got home, while Tony tried to take advantage of his free hour to study before class. After forty minutes, he couldn't resist getting out the photo albums to look at early pictures of Sam and Jonathan, blurring the two together in a daydream of his unborn daughter.

"They should call him Blade!" Jonathan said, looking at the birth announcement. A wallet-sized picture of one-month-old Simon Arthur Woodman was tucked into the slots on the card. He was sleeping under a blue blanket with a block monogram reading 'SAW.'

"That's a kickass nickname," Sam agreed. "I can't wait to give one to our little brother or sister."

"You never gave me a nickname!" Jonathan complained.

"You have lots of nicknames, dookie breath."

"Those aren't nicknames; they're insults, you airhead!" The kids stopped fighting when they heard their mom's key in the lock.

"Angela's here!" Sam yelled to Tony. "Will you tell us now?"

"Hold your horses. Let her come inside and sit down first."

Angela threw open the door. "Hi family!" she said. Sam and Jonathan ran over to her, practically trembling with excitement.

"Well?" Sam asked, urging her to take off her purse and coat.

"You can't wait a second longer, can you?" Angela asked with a giggle. She was glad the two were so anxious to know more about their sibling, especially after Jonathan's initial reaction.

"No! Tell us!" he insisted.

"Jonathan, Samantha, you're going to have a little sister!" she squealed, pulling them into a group hug.

"Yes!" Sam yelled, pumping her fist. "Two to one!" she gloated.

Tony squatted down beside Jonathan and showed him the sonogram. "There she is," he said.

"She looks like an alien," he complained.

"They all look like that, honey. She's going to look just like any other baby once she's born," Angela explained.

"Are you kidding? This is gonna be the best-looking baby on the Eastern seaboard!" Tony boasted.

"I have more good news. I talked to the family law attorney today. The adoption should be final by the end of this month."

"Awesome. I'm ready to start calling you Mom again," Sam said.

"I'm looking forward to it, sweetheart."

"Can we call Grandma and tell her?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, let's call Mona," Tony said. He picked up the phone and dialed. Hey, Rickster, I'm looking for Mrs. Robinson," he said. "I won't be able to say that much longer."

"Mona!" he called. "It's Tony!"

Footsteps could be heard in the background before Mona picked up the phone. "Hey Tone, I hear you're in for six more weeks of winter."

"Says Punxsutawney Phil. Dunkirk Dave is predicting an early Spring! And guess what else. Wait, Jonathan wants to tell you."

"Hi Grandma. Mom's having a girl." Jonathan chirped.

"Wonderful!"

"She wants to talk to you," he added, handing off the phone.

"Angela! You get another chance at a little Mona, you lucky duck. It's probably too much to ask for her to have red hair and blue eyes, huh?"

"Yes, Mother. That's pretty unlikely."

"Hey, that's what hair dye is for. You of all people should know that, blondie."

"Oh, Mother. Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Sam held her open palm out and gave Angela a disapproving look until she turned over the phone.

"Hi Mona. This is your first granddaughter. Well, not yet, but in a few weeks."

"The adoption is going through?"

"That's what mom's lawyer told her."

"Oh, Samantha, that's great news. Gee, I'm going from one grandchild to seven in the space of a year. Just like when I had that dream about Angela getting knocked up with sextuplets."

"What are Ricky's grandchildren going to call you?"

"I don't know. I was thinking about Big Red."

"Ooh, that's perfect."

Tony picked up the kitchen extension. "We just wanted to let you know. I'm gonna call Mrs. Rossini next."

"You told me before her? You are my favorite son-in-law!" Chandler had certainly eliminated himself from the running by reintroducing her to his cousin Trish, but she hadn't shared that with her family yet.

"That's good to hear, cuz I think Mrs. R. prefers Michael. At least she's talking to Ange and me again."

"Is he still seeing that Frankie girl you had the hots for?"

"Mona! She's not a girl, she's a lawyer, and I did not have the hots for her," he argued. "Well, maybe I did. Anyway, that was a long time ago. And yes, they're still seeing each other," Tony said. "How's the wedding planning coming along?"

"I think Ricky's calling me. Gotta go!"

Tony shook his head and pressed the switch hook with his finger before dialing Mrs. Rossini.

"Heya, Mrs. R. Just calling to let you know Angela had her ultrasound today, and everything is good. We're having a girl. " He held the phone away from his ear to avoid permanent hearing damage.

"No, Angela took the kids on an errand," he lied, holding his finger up to his lips as Jonathan came into the kitchen. The boy made a show of tiptoeing across the floor, then dragged a chair away from the table with a loud screech. He grimaced at the mistake.

"Sorry about that. I'll give them your love. Well, take care. Bye!"

"How's Mrs. Rossini?" Angela asked on her way into the kitchen with Sam.

"She's praying for us," Tony grumbled.

"Oh, that's nice," she said dismissively.

Michael and Frankie reclined in her bed smiling at each other in the afterglow of their early evening romp. They hadn't seen each other all weekend because Jonathan had been staying with Michael, and it had felt impossible to wait another moment. They each rushed to her place after work, and tugged each other's clothes off, eager to continue discovering the flesh underneath.

"We could order something to eat instead of getting dressed and going out," she suggested.

"One of us will have to go to the door," he pointed out. "The other can stay in bed."

"I'll wrestle you for the bed," she said, rolling halfway onto him.

"You can stay in bed. I'll get up," he relented.

"Boy, you give up easy," she teased.

"Yeah, well, I like you, Frankie." It may have been quite obvious, but it was Michael's first verbal admission that he was falling for her.

"You like me?" she asked, playfully grabbing his face. "Do you like-like me?" she teased with a throaty laugh.

He rolled her over and pinned her down. "Can't you tell?" he asked. "I haven't felt this way about anyone new for a long time."

"I haven't either," she said more seriously. "Tell me what happened with your ex-wife. Why did you break up?"

He sighed and laid on his back, looking up at the ceiling. His second wife had never inspired the kind of deep emotions he felt with Frankie. It was Angela he had fallen hard for. "I should never have married Heather. I was freshly divorced when we got together, and she seemed to worship me. For a while, I was able to pretend I was still young, but the truth is that I'm not. I have a past, and that includes my son."

"She didn't like your son?" Frankie asked in confusion. She had only met Jonathan briefly, but he seemed like a great kid.

"In her defense, he did throw up on her feet at our wedding. But I don't think she was ready to be a stepmom, and I was a poor excuse for a father."

"I don't understand." Mrs. Rossini had spoken highly of Michael after meeting him at Thanksgiving, and Frankie had seen both Jonathan and Samantha perfectly content to spend a day with him after Christmas. He talked about the kids all the time. "You're a great dad."

"I'm trying to make up for ten years of neglect. Heather wanted to have a baby while Jonathan was in witness protection. It just felt wrong, like we'd be replacing him. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that Heather was too young and I'd be too old by the time she matured. After we split up, I went to therapy and realized she was just a rebound."

Frankie laid her head on Michael's shoulder and pressed her palm over his chest. "Your heart is racing."

"It's not easy to talk about this stuff. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life."

"Haven't we all? I wasted ten years with Jeremy before I found him in our bed with a shampoo girl. My whole life plan went down the drain!"

"Seems like you're doing just fine without him. You're going to make partner this year."

"I meant my personal life plan. Papa was expecting me to have children by now. I'm almost thirty-five!"

"Maybe you're not as far off course as you think," he said. Would it be too much to suggest she may have already met the man she was meant to spend her life with? Yes, it would. The phone rang, saving him from saying too much too soon.

"Hello?" Frankie answered. "Oh hi, Mrs. Rossini." For the next few minutes, Michael heard only a few words of acknowledgement, interspersed with expressive interjections, while the Brooklyn gossip shared her report. Frankie rolled her eyes, pointed a finger gun at her head, and silently signaled that the woman on the other end of the line was crazy. Then Michael saw her straighten up and tuck the bedsheet around her chest. "Oh, they are? Well, that's wonderful." She held her hand over the receiver and said "There are menus in the top drawer of the kitchen."

Michael got up and put on his boxers. He wasn't sure which drawer she was referring to, but that wasn't a problem. She seemed to want privacy, so he was going to take his time. He opened the drawer he already knew held cutlery and utensils, then went for the one with dishcloths and potholders inside. The menus were in the junk drawer, and he decided to take mental inventory. Truthfully, there wasn't much junk. It was populated by paperclips, pens, small batteries, and a roll of masking tape. He spread the assortment of menus on the counter. Chinese food, pizza, sandwiches and salads, Indian, and Mexican. He took the stack and began walking toward the bedroom. Frankie was still on the phone.

"Michael and I can talk for hours. He's so sweet and thoughtful. No, he's actually in really good shape, believe it or not!"

He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence while aiming to keep Mrs. Rossini in the dark. The menus were all tossed onto her lap with the exception of his top choice, Indian, which he handed to her. She opened it and began perusing. He loved how she understood him without needing words.

"OK, thanks for the call. Have a good night, Mrs. Rossini."

"Does Indian sound good?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's perfect. Do you mind if I order now? I know exactly what to get us."

"Go for it. I'm just going to use the bathroom." Again, he took his time, using the task as an excuse to give her privacy and space. She never seemed to mind that he needed quiet time away from other people. As he stepped back into the bedroom, she pulled back the covers for him.

"It should be here in half an hour or so," she informed him. He slipped back into bed and leaned against the headboard.

"OK. And how is Mrs. Rossini? Did she say anything interesting?"

"I feel weird about being the one to tell you this, but your ex-wife is having a girl."

"Angela? She's having a girl?" His chest tightened with the knowledge that she had wanted a daughter for many years. Soon she'd have two, no thanks to him.

"Do you have another pregnant ex-wife?" she teased.

"I don't think so." It was certainly possible. He hadn't spoken to Heather in seven months, and he didn't intend to reopen the lines of communication with her.

"Tony called Mrs. R. and told her today."

"I wonder what Jonathan thinks. Should I call him?"

"He just found out. You'll have time to talk about it over the weekend, won't you?"

"I don't have him this weekend. Every other week, remember? I dropped him off at his mom's last night."

"Oh, so you're not planning to spend Valentine's Day with me. That's fine," she pouted. "I'm sure I can find someone else to have dinner with."

"Hey, I don't want you going out with anyone else," he protested. "I thought we were only seeing each other." He considered telling her he didn't sleep around, only holding back because he didn't want her to think he saw promiscuity as a moral failing.

"I haven't thought of another man since I met you, Michael," she told him honestly.

"Don't make plans. I'm going to see what I can do." He pushed down the covers and pulled her into his lap. "Whether we see each other that day or not, I want you to be my Valentine, Frankie."

"I want to be in Connecticut this summer," Mona told Ricky.

"For little Mona's birth. Of course. Do you want to go straight there in April, or spend some time in Chicago this spring?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk about spending some time in Georgia. Kelly could use some family support, don't you think?"

"You would do that? Our visit wasn't exactly pleasant."

"Once Trish hightailed it back to Tampa, things weren't so bad. Cory loved having you around, and I think you really beat some sense into Chandler."

"I never laid a hand on him, sugar."

"I like to imagine you did," she said with a wink.

"It would put my mind at ease to know whether he stays in line."

Tuesday, February 3, 1987

Sam and Jonathan promised to be careful making dinner. She scoffed at the idea of parental supervision. "You two are going to be too busy to hover when our sister gets here. Get used to giving us some more responsibility."

"She says 'responsibility,' but she means 'freedom,'" Tony grumbled.

"Let's stay in the living room, where we can smell burning and hear screaming."

"That's what I do when you cook," he teased, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Now what did your travel agent come up with?" he asked, sitting on the couch and looking through the glossy promotional materials.

"I like this one. Seven restaurants, four pools, arts and crafts workshops, cooking and dance classes, and cultural tours are included," Angela read from the resort brochure.

"Yeah, it even has a gym so I can work off the empty calories from the swim-up bar."

"And a clothing-optional beach, so you can show off your cute tush," she said, shoving her hand under his butt.

"You wouldn't take off your swimsuit," he said. "Would you?"

"I don't know. I've never gone skinny dipping before. Have you?"

"No way! I'm afraid something's gonna bite me where the sun don't shine."

"I might just take off my top," she decided.

"I can keep you covered, babe," he said, turning and spreading his hands wide over her bosom. "Not as well as I used to," he admitted with an appreciative leer. When the phone rang, Angela picked it up with her free hand.

"Hello? Oh hi, Mother." Angela pulled her hand out from its nook at the same time as Tony sullenly sat back and folded his arms.

"Don't stop groping each other on my account," Mona commanded. "It took you long enough to get to second base."

"How did you know…" she started, inadvertently confirming the presumption. "We just talked to you last night. What's going on now?"

"Ricky and I have made a decision."

Angela gasped. "You set a date for your wedding!" She leaned over with the phone to make sure Tony could hear the announcement.

"Not yet," Mona said, "but we have decided where we're going to live. For the next six months, at least."

Angela bit at her finger anxiously. "I thought you'd be coming back here in April," she said.

"Tell her," Tony whispered. "Or I will."

"Oh, alright! Mother, I would like you to be there when I give birth."

"Why? It's Tony's fault you're pregnant."

"Contrary to all reason, I find your presence a comfort."

"Angela! You're going to ruin my bad reputation," Mona jested. "Don't worry. Ricky and I intend to be in Connecticut by Memorial Day."

"Memorial Day? Are you staying in Phoenix until then or going to Chicago?"

"Neither. We're going to drive out to Georgia in a week so Ricky can have some time with his younger grandchildren."

"Oh." Angela couldn't begrudge Ricky's family some quality time, especially since he would again be practically cohabiting with hers. "Thanks for telling me." She absently hung up the phone.

"What's wrong, honey? She said she'd be here four weeks before the baby's due."

"We can't go to Jamaica. There's nobody to watch the kids."

"Damn," Tony said. "Well, maybe we can take them along."

"As much as I love our children, it won't be a second honeymoon with them around."

"Yeah, and I really wanna do all that stuff we talked about. Not the arts and crafts. The other stuff," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

The phone rang again, and again Angela picked up. "Hello?" she answered, now slightly irritated.

"Angela, I'm really hoping you haven't made plans for Valentine's Day," Michael said in a rush.

"You already had a second chance with me. I'm off the market for good this time," she joked.

"Can we switch Jonathan's weekends? I really don't want to miss out on my first Valentine's Day with Frankie."

"Your first? This is serious, isn't it?"

"I'm a goner, Angela. She's incredible. I can't screw it up this time."

"Well, since you're desperate…." She flashed a mischievous grin.

"I'll do anything!" he cried.

"Take the kids over Spring Break so Tony and I can go on a second honeymoon?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I could even take them skiing for a few days."

"It's a deal!" she said. "Jonathan has flag football on Friday night. You can meet us at the Y."

"Sounds good."

"Is that all you needed?" she asked.

"Well, I also wanted to congratulate you. News has spread throughout the tri-state area that you're having a baby girl. You must be thrilled."

"Thank you, Michael. We are."

"How's Jonathan taking it?"

"He's good, I think."

"I'll give him some space to talk about it this weekend."

"That's a good idea. We'll see you on Friday."

"Bye, Angela." Michael hung up feeling almost as victorious as his ex-wife.

"Problem solved," Angela told Tony. "I'll call the travel agent tomorrow and book our trip to Jamaica."

"How would you like to go for a weekend in the country?" Geoffrey asked abruptly. The trip was already planned and prepaid. He simply hadn't been able to get up the nerve to ask until he heard Wendy's breathing change the way it always did when she was about to fall asleep on the phone.

"What?" she asked, startled awake and unsure whether she'd been having one of her dreams again.

"There's this adorable bed and breakfast upstate. I made reservations for next Friday and Saturday nights."

"Geoffrey, that's a big step. Are you sure you're ready?"

"I want to do more than rub noses with you, Wendy."

"You do? Thank God! It's been a while for me, and we've been taking so slow, I was afraid I'd forget how."

"I'll remind you," he said earnestly.

"OK!" she agreed. "Oh, shoot. Herb already told me he's got plans next weekend."

"Maybe Jenny can stay with the Micellis."

"I can ask, but this is their first real Valentine's Day together."

"I always forget they're newlyweds. It seems like they've been married for ages."

"No, they're still hot for each other."

Friday, February 6, 1987

Michael sat down on the wooden bleachers next to Tony. "So you guys have Jenny next weekend?"

"Yeah, Jonathan already planned a whole romantic dessert seduction."

"Nice," Michael said.

"Tony! My little boy isn't planning any seduction!" Angela snapped. "And Michael, you shouldn't encourage him." It was unclear whether she was referring to Jonathan or Tony.

"Well, he's got the dessert part, anyway. You got plans with Frankie?"

"Yeah, maybe I should ask my son for a few pointers," he said with a laugh. "So, how's he doing with football?"

"He's learning. I don't see an athletic scholarship in his future, not that he needs one."

The three parents settled back and watched the game. All of the sudden, Tony felt impending doom. "I gotta call home and make sure Sam's ok," he said, excusing himself to the payphone in the lobby.

"That kid must have twenty pounds on Jonathan," Michael observed.

"He caught the ball!" Angela screamed, grabbing her ex-husband's arm. "Run, sweetheart!"

"Go Jonathan!"

"I can't believe Tony is missing his first touchdown."

"I don't think he'll make it, Angela. The big kid is fast."

"Oh no!" she cried just before the tackle that was never supposed to happen.

Tony followed Jonathan's agonizing wail directly to his side. "You're gonna be fine, pal," he said, as the boy's parents came down from the bleachers.