A week or so prior to "Paint Your Wagon," season 1.
In that episode, Tony tells Angela they are all out of sherry because they finished off the bottle the watching the movie, Rosemary's Baby. The comment reinforces Diane Wilmington's allegation that Angela and Tony are too friendly and familiar with each other. I've wondered for a long time what that movie night might have looked like so early in the show, and here's my take.
Also, for those who are interested, the trailer for Rosemary's Baby is on IMDB. I've never seen it, but I remember it was considered a classic psychological horror film similar to Psycho and The Exorcist.
It was only 11 o'clock when the movie ended, but both Samantha and Jonathan were sound asleep on the couch between Tony and Angela. After swimming all afternoon at the YMCA pool for a school fundraiser, it was a wonder they managed to stay awake past 9. But they had insisted on holding Tony to his promise to let them watch Rosemary's Baby on the new VCR Angela had bought everyone for Christmas. Maybe the movie was a bit mature for an eight- and twelve-year-old, but it was a classic, Tony reasoned. And when Angela hadn't objected, he figured, why not?
"Which one zonked out first?" Tony asked quietly.
"I think Sam lasted about ten minutes longer, but both nodded off before Rosemary wandered into traffic," Angela answered, referencing a key scene in the film.
Tony glanced down at his sleeping daughter and thought back to her birthday a few months ago. "I don't think I have too many more nights like this in my future," he observed, thinking of how quickly she was growing up.
"Probably not," Angela agreed, and then asked, "Were movie nights always something you did together?"
Tony thought about the habits and routines they'd had over the years, especially after Marie died and they'd only had each other. Looking back, he realized they had often enjoyed watching a movie together. "I guess you could say that. I mean, we didn't have a cool VCR and a place to rent movies, but we never missed The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday evening."
"How about The Wizard of Oz on Thanksgiving night?" Angela asked with a hint of excitement in her voice.
His eyes lit up. "Every year," he confirmed.
Noticing her empty wine glass and the remaining sherry in the bottle on the coffee table, he gently reached toward it, careful not to disturb Sam. The wine was surrounded by a bowl of Jiffy Pop with only a few unpopped kernels remaining, and the melted remains of two hot fudge sundaes.
"May I?" he inquired, proffering the bottle.
She handed him her glass, which he topped off before pouring the remainder into his own.
"To family movie nights," he said as he tipped his glass in her direction.
The casual toast caught her off guard. Family, she wondered. Was that what they were becoming? He was her housekeeper, a paid employee. But she'd certainly never watched scary movies with Mrs. Hillard — or danced around the living room with her on Christmas morning.
Tony noticed her hesitancy and asked, "Everything okay?"
Roused from her thoughts, she looked at the two kids curled on the couch between them and thought of how they already played, and bickered, like siblings. Despite the professional arrangement between her and Tony, the kids made it easy, or maybe inevitable, for some lines to become blurred. But so did Tony. She still remembered the way she'd flown into his arms when he'd told her she'd gotten her promotion. It was as if she'd known him for years instead of two days. And just a few weeks ago, she'd taken off work to help him clear out his father's apartment. It seemed when it came to blurring lines, she was as susceptible as anyone else in the household.
"Yes, everything is fine," she confirmed, before toasting, "To family movie nights."
They sipped their sherry in silence for a few minutes until Angela felt the additional alcohol relaxing her usually strict inhibitions. "Thank you for suggesting this tonight," she began. "Usually, it's just Jonathan and me watching Dallas — or Knight Rider if he gets to choose," she added wryly.
Tony couldn't quite pinpoint her tone and whether or not she was suggesting she usually preferred time alone with her son. So, he took the cautious route, cognizant he was the subordinate in the household despite the degree of familiarity implied by their current circumstance.
"If you'd rather do your own thing on Saturday night, just say the word. I just saw the movie at the store and thought it would be a fun way to spend some time with the kids."
Even though there was no defensiveness in his tone, she rushed to reassure him, "No, it was! I mean, I'm glad you did. It's just that …" she faltered, then regrouped and admitted, "I know our situation isn't exactly conventional, but I've really liked having another adult in the house to do stuff like this with."
"I know what you mean," he affirmed, "Being a single parent is tough – and lonely."
"Yes, exactly!" she said in whispered enthusiasm that someone understood her plight. Then, tipsy on wine and camaraderie, she found herself confessing, "I never expected how much more you would bring into the house than just being the housekeeper, and – well – I just want you to know I've come to really appreciate it, especially everything you've done for Jonathan."
He met her gaze, and as had happened on a few other occasions he recalled quite clearly, their eyes locked and held with the strength of industrial magnets.
In response to her admission, a hundred self-deprecating retorts jumped to mind, most centered on his notorious lack of subtlety and boundaries, but instead, he chose to respond in kind.
"I can't say I'm not grateful for the effort you've taken with Sam, to spend time with her and get to know her. I wasn't sure how comfortable she'd feel living here, but I think she's settling in," he chuckled, indicating her sleeping form on the couch. "I just don't want you to think I didn't notice how you made her feel at home, like giving her such a beautiful bedroom and, yes, even taking her shopping for her birthday."
"Oh Tony, of course I would. I want you both to feel at home here."
He nodded solemnly and then glanced around at their surroundings. The sherry was gone, and the kids were a tangled mess of limbs and pillows between them. Tony certainly knew there probably weren't any other housekeepers in Fairfield, or on the planet, sharing the same kind of time with their boss. But somehow it had felt so natural for him to suggest that they pile on the couch with the kids and watch a scary movie. It hadn't occurred to him he might be overstepping, and Angela hadn't shown any hesitation when she'd responded that it sounded fun.
But now, the scene they'd inadvertently created — complete with wine, sleeping children, and a shared blanket stretched between them — bespoke an intimacy neither had naively anticipated. How easy it would be to imagine each of them gathering a child in their arms to carry upstairs and deposit in bed before meeting in the hallway to retire together to their room — and all that would await them there.
Tony practically had to shake his head to clear the tableau that played across his mind even as Angela set her glass in the table and announced, "I better get Jonathan to bed."
"Want me to carry him up for you?" Tony offered.
Angela shook her head. "Just like your movie nights with Sam, my days of carrying my baby upstairs are almost over."
Tony nodded in complete understanding, even as he prepared to rouse his daughter for a sleepy walk up the steps. Then he counter-offered, "If you don't mind tucking Sam in, I'll straighten up down here and lock up." It was the kind of domestic negotiating they both recognized as far more personal than professional, but it nonetheless felt easy and natural.
So, with her son in her arms, Angela assured him, "Yes, of course ..." then paused before adding, "This was a really great night, Tony. I hope we do it again soon."
Tony met her eyes and promised, "I'm sure that can be arranged."
The moment stretched out until Sam's sleepy voice asked innocently, "Is the movie over already?" Tony chuckled and told her it was before instructing her to go with Angela upstairs. "I'll be up in a few minutes."
Sam complied without a second thought, leaning into Angela as she guided the young girl toward the stairs. Tony stared after the trio of retreating figures and wondered what the future might hold for the unexpected family that fate had made of them.