Chapter 70: Parenthood and the Big Move

August 5, 1989

"Three years ago, almost to the day, in this very hall," I began, holding out my champagne glass, "the shoe was on the other foot. As many of you know, the groom here served as best man when I exchanged vows with my lovely wife. At our reception, Dave recited a toast that was hilariously funny and touchingly heartfelt at the same time. And I'm here to tell you all, it's gonna be hard for me to match it." I shot a wink at Inez, and then faced Dave, wearing a fake apologetic look. "I just haven't had the time to think up a good toast, dude. For crying out loud, I'm a married man!" A hearty round of laughter ensued.

"And not only that," I continued, when things settled down, "I actually have to stand up here and admit in public that you're worthy of my sister!" The audience roared once again. With the "roast the groom" portion of my little speech out of the way, I grew serious.

"Let me tell you all a little story. Dave and I have been friends since childhood. I remember a certain day during our senior year of high school. Dave brought his drum set over to our place, and we put on a mini-concert for the O'Malley family. After we finished, Eileen and I did a little brother-sister piano duet that we used to do for just about everyone who came to visit. Dave looked at Eileen and said, 'Wow, the talent runs in the family!' And Eileen turned as red as a fire engine. I think both of them will tell you that the spark was ignited at that point.

"A few days later, Dave told me that he wanted to take Eileen to the senior prom. My sister was only a sophomore at the time, so this was a pretty big deal. A few weeks after the prom, they made a decision that I've always thought was incredibly mature and well thought out. They decided that since they were at different stages of life, they were better off staying friends for now. And when they finally did get together, they were good and ready.

"Since that point, I've watched them nurse each other through growing pains. I've watched my buddy here transform himself from a goofy, underachieving high-schooler into a candidate for a doctoral degree. I've watched my baby sister mature from a shy, awkward teen into a lovely young lady with a passion for sharing her love for music with children. I couldn't be prouder of both of them. And so, here's to the culmination of a long journey for Eileen and Dave, and the beginning of a lifetime of happiness."

The wedding of Dave and Eileen had, of course, been held at St. James. The reception, like ours, was at Cameron Hall. Near the end of the marriage ceremony, right after the bride and groom recited their vows, Inez and I experienced a very special moment. Inez stepped forward to sing "Ave Maria", just as Eileen had done at our wedding. Meanwhile, I backed up my wife on the piano.

"That was an absolutely beautiful rendition," gushed my somewhat teary sister, looking gorgeous in her wedding dress, right after the ceremony ended. "Make no mistake about it ... both of you still have it." It had been the first time either of us had performed in public since the end of Lightning in a Bottle.

"It took a lot of practice to shake off the cobwebs," I laughed.

"Well, you both still have it," Eileen repeated. "Make sure you never lose it." My wife and I just looked at each other and smiled.

October 17, 1989

I had two stops to make on my way home from work today. First, I visited the local pharmacy to pick up a prescription for Inez, who for the past couple of weeks had been suffering through bouts of nausea that were strongest in the a.m. We, being Ace Detectives, suspected right away what was going on inside her body, especially with the Clue of her having missed her latest period. Three days ago, her doctor had confirmed it: the malady was morning sickness, and either a little Pat or a little Inez was on the way.

Next, I swung by a nearby Sam Goody music store and purchased Billy Joel's Storm Front CD, which had just been released today. I had been waiting for its release with bated breath, and the timing could not have been better.

I concealed my record store purchase from Inez when I arrived home, but immediately gave her the medicine. "How do you feel, angel?" I asked her.

"They call it morning sickness," she replied with a tired giggle. "But it's early evening, and my stomach is doing flip-flops. It's nowhere near as bad as it is in the morning, but it's definitely there."

"We can hold off on dinner for now," I told her, "but you really should try to eat something later. Anyway, there's something else I want to do." As my mystified wife looked on, I reached under the sofa and pulled out a candle and holder I'd planted there that morning. I set the holder down on the table, put the candle in place, produced a match, and lit the candle.

"Exactly what are you up to?" wondered Inez with a curious half-smile.

I held my finger up to my lips in a "shhh" gesture, and turned off the light, leaving the candle as the sole source of illumination. Next, I walked over to the stereo, and popped in my recent CD purchase. I queued up track number ten – the last track on the album. Then, I held out my hand to Inez. "May I have this dance?" I asked her simply.

It took her a second to catch on. Her mouth flew open in surprise as she realized what I was doing: re-enacting that very moment from several years ago when we'd transitioned from friends to lovers. By now, the soft piano intro was drifting across the room, as I held her in my arms. We began to sway softly as we heard Billy Joel begin to sing the same words I'd sung to her on that very special evening.

Another, even more intense expression of recognition swept across her face. "This is... that song!" she exclaimed.

"'And So It Goes', just out today," I confirmed. I began to lip-sync the words as we danced slowly. Her moist eyes displayed adoration, and equal parts rapture and contentment were reflected by her radiant face. As the song came to an end, I drew her in for a deep and lengthy kiss.

"I love you, Mommy," I said to her.

"And I love you, Daddy," she replied, tugging on my hand, pulling me in the direction of the bedroom. "Come on," she smiled. "I have another re-enactment in mind."

"Are you up to it?" I asked her, mindful of the fact that she hadn't been feeling well just minutes ago.

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied with a saucy smile. "More than fine."

A little while later, we were resting back out on the sofa, her head in my lap. "Tell me something," she asked me. "You've been planning that special dance for a long time, haven't you?"

"I have," I acknowledged. "But the timing was incredible. There's no way I ever anticipated that we'd learn we were about to become parents just a few days before 'And So It Goes' came out."

A brief silence followed as we both contemplated the coincidence.

"Just think," I finally offered, flashing an impish smile that was full of affection. "If you'd gotten pregnant just a short while earlier, you'd have had to settle for 'You're Having My Baby', by Paul Anka." Inez began to giggle uncontrollably, before whacking me over the head with a pillow.

December 18, 1989

For all intents and purposes, Inez had put her dissertation on hold. On occasion, she'd try to devote some time to it, but never got very far. "I'll pick it up after the baby is here," she declared one day. "I have plenty of time."

She was now three months along. She was not yet beginning to show, and the morning sickness was becoming less of an issue. Today, we got some unexpected news from a couple of dear friends.

Jason and Valerie, both of whom were slightly ahead of Inez in the process even before her pregnancy, had both graduated a few days ago. Both had successfully defended their dissertations, and now owned Ph.D. degrees. Next up for them was a lengthy internship, and the unexpected twist centered on this aspect.

"We've decided to move to my native state, New Mexico," Jason informed us that evening. They'd come over for a visit. "We have internships lined up in the Albuquerque area."

Inez and I looked at each other in surprise. We had to be happy for them. But at the same time, we'd watched Evie move away not too long ago. Now, we'd have to say goodbye to Jason and Valerie.

Valerie sensed our wistfulness. "I still have my family here in New Jersey," she assured us, "so we'll be back to visit from time to time. We can't wait to see your baby! But Jason's a westerner at heart."

"That I am," grinned Jason. "There's too many people and not enough open space in this part of the country."

"I actually feel the same way," Valerie declared. "Even though I'll be saying adios to everything I grew up with, I'm looking forward to a change of pace. Another good thing about New Mexico is that we've heard the licensing process moves along a little faster than it does here."

"When are you making the move?" I asked them, trying to conceal the fact that I was floored by this sudden announcement.

"We're in the early stages of making our arrangements," Jason replied. "But we hope to be set up out there by mid-February. That's when we're supposed to begin our internships."

"That's a lot to do in a short time," Inez pointed out, as Jason and Valerie expressed agreement.

Later, after they'd left, my wife stated the obvious. "I'm sure gonna miss them."

"As Billy Joel put it in another one of his songs," I offered, "life is a series of hellos and goodbyes."

March 10, 1990

The eighties transitioned into the nineties. Inez progressed through the second trimester of her pregnancy. The morning sickness disappeared and her lower abdomen began to swell. The rush of hormones sent her sex drive into orbit; we practically wore out our mattress during those three months.

At the five-month point, an ultrasound exam gave us the information we were dying to know: we would be having a daughter. I was able to dream about having a tiny version of Inez to spoil. We considered keeping that little detail a secret from everyone else, but gave in to the non-stop pressure (especially from the two very excited prospective grandmothers) to spill the beans. We decided on a name fairly quickly – but that, we did keep under wraps.

At about the same time, we received news that there was another member of the expectant mothers' club: Evie. "It makes perfect sense," laughed Inez. "Ev and I always did everything together. It stands to reason that we'd be pregnant at the same time." They spent a lot of time on the phone, comparing notes. Inez, who was a few months ahead in the process, acted as counselor and advisor.

Life did not revolve solely around baby matters, however. Inez did manage to pick away at her dissertation, and was making slow, steady progress. "I want to defend the dissertation in the fall, so I can graduate in December," she declared.

And, in other news, my brother suddenly had a beauty queen for a girlfriend.

This started mostly on a whim, partially catalyzed by Lisette's newfound desire to learn how to sing. She'd already taken a voice class, and one day back in January, she and Seamus rode along with Inez and me to pay a visit to my parents. Eileen was there as well, and the five of us got to talking about music. We pressed Lisette into showing us what she'd learned, and she impressed us all with a lovely mezzo-soprano voice that just needed a little refining. The two other gifted female vocalists in attendance jumped at the chance to play vocal coach.

"You need to get some experience singing in front of an audience," I said to Lisette, teasing her just a little.

"Why not enter a beauty pageant?" blurted out Seamus. We all looked at him, and realized he was entirely serious. He just stared boldly back.

"Actually, Lisette," Inez pointed out, "your boyfriend has a really good idea. You're tall, beautiful and carry yourself well – that's what pageant judges love. Why not go for it? It'll be fun. As for the talent portion, we'll help you get up to speed as a singer. You've got a good foundation."

Lisette was initially reluctant, but we talked her into it. "What the hell," she finally said with a giggle. "I have nothing to lose, right?"

Inez, in mid-pregnancy and taking it somewhat easy in her academic life, suddenly had a new pursuit, which she tackled with her usual gusto. She gave Lisette two or three rigorous vocal lessons a week, and Eileen joined in when she had time.

Tonight, the second Saturday in March, was the culmination of their efforts. Inez and I came to watch the pageant, as did Dave and Eileen. Seamus, naturally, was there, as were our parents. It goes without saying that Raul, Rosie, Mayra, and Dennis also looked on with great interest. Lisette looked lovely in both her evening gown and her swimwear. She aced the interview portion. And she did just well enough with her vocal rendition of "Memory", from the musical Cats (a piece Inez had once sung for me in our living room), that at the end of the evening, Lisette Andrade was wearing a radiant smile and a tiara, having been crowned Miss Middlesex County. She would be competing for the title of Miss New Jersey in Ocean City in late June.

"God, I'm so proud of her," declared a bubbly Inez as we drove home. "Only problem is, the Miss New Jersey pageant is a week after the baby's due date. But one way or another, I'm gonna be there!"

May 7, 1990

Finally, Inez had moved into the late stages of her pregnancy. Her back bothered her frequently, and she generally preferred to stay off her feet whenever possible. I did the best I could to wait on her hand and foot.

With Eileen's help, and oftentimes mine as well, my wife managed to stay on top of Lisette's ongoing vocal training, in preparation for the next pageant. They had decided to stick with "Memory" this time around. "She'll have to get better as a singer to compete at the next level," Inez pointed out. "But I think she can do it." They'd increased the difficulty of the piece, adding a modulation near the end that forced Lisette to hit some high notes that were near the limit of her range. She was diligent and motivated, however, and everything was coming along nicely.

Of course, there were other concerns to deal with. Today, I took a rather drastic step in moving on professionally: I resigned from my job.

That's right ... with no other position lined up, I walked into my boss's office, and said, "I quit."

Well, I wasn't quite that blunt about it. I told my current supervisor, Chuck Nelson – my first boss, John Wickersham, had long since left the company – that I was resigning from my position, and I was putting in my two weeks' notice.

"I see," Chuck replied, obviously caught off guard. "I assume you have another position in hand? We'll definitely miss you around here, Pat."

I went on to tell him the truth: with my wife eight months pregnant, I planned to move into a stay-at-home dad role while she finished work on her doctorate, while pursuing a few part-time ventures.

That's when Chuck looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. I'd been promoted into lower management not too long ago. However, I knew that it was high time for me to move on. I'd already been slaving away at that job for far longer than I had expected. Thing was, Chuck wasn't aware of my financial situation. Thanks to steady funding of my pre-knowledge edge, Inez and I were already millionaires many times over. I didn't need to bust my butt at a job like this. It was time for me to work on my terms, doing things I felt passionate about, using my wealth-earning capabilities to take care of my family, not to mention helping out my close friends.

At the same time, just walking away from a job like this was viewed by most as something that was simply not done. "Is there anything we can do to keep you here, Pat?" Chuck asked me, in a tone suggesting he believed I was unhappy with the job. "I can speak with upper management about a salary increase."

"I appreciate the offer, Chuck, but no thanks," I told him. "I enjoyed my time here, don't get me wrong. I just want to move off in a different direction, that's all."

Our family and friends, much more aware of my financial success, were less surprised about my decision. I didn't clue anyone in yet about my plans. Right away, Dad offered up a suggestion.

"Patrick, with your investment expertise, why don't you go into financial consulting?" he told me. "You'll make a fortune."

"Nope," I replied without hesitation. "I'll become a magnet for unscrupulous people, and if I keep up the same level of success, I'll induce the feds to come and investigate me. I've always been on the up and up, but I don't need that. I want to share that expertise with family and friends, no one else."

That expertise had been of great help to those close to me. Dad had been following my lead for awhile, and had socked away a good bit of money himself. So had Raul, even though he'd been relatively wealthy before taking my investment advice. Evie and Vince, if they stayed on track, would never have to worry about finances in their lifetime. The same went for Eileen and Dave. I'd also been giving Seamus some tips, trying to reel him in as I had Dave.

Then there were Lupe and Javier. More than any of the others, they had raised their standard of living far above what it was a few years ago. Lupe had listened to my advice, and Javier had directed much of their earnings into his business, which he had expanded quite a bit over the last year or two. It was more profitable than ever. He now had local contacts in every country he routinely shipped to.

"My wife and I could retire right now if we wanted to," Javier told me one day over the phone. "And I'm only fifty-five years old. I want to stay fully involved in the business for a few more years, though." What he didn't say, however, was that he was grooming Mike to take over the business upon his retirement. It was obvious to all, probably including Mike himself, that he was aiming in that direction. Mike, who'd dropped out of college when he was younger, had gone back to school and finished up his bachelor's degree. He was now enrolled in an MBA program, taking classes at night.

As for me, I now had time to devote to our baby on the way, and to begin to actively pursue my ongoing passion, writing. Javier had repeatedly offered to hire me as a paid business consultant, but I demurred, telling him that any help I gave him would be gratis. All he had to do was ask. Still, I intended to keep my eyes open for other business opportunities which met my rather rigid requirements.

It didn't take long for one to appear.

May 18, 1990

The timing was incredible. Upon arriving at home following my final day of work, the phone rang. It was a friend I hadn't spoken with in quite a while: Derek, just calling to say hello. He briefly filled me in on recent events in his life.

A couple of years ago, Derek had opened his own photography studio. The business had taken off, and he now operated four studios in central New Jersey, catering mostly to upscale customers. He'd hired a few skilled photographers, and had developed a stellar reputation. In short, his services were much in demand. He and Annie now lived together, although marriage had not yet been mentioned (as far as I knew). Still, it was obvious that they planned to make a future together; this became apparent when Derek told me of his current dilemma.

"Annie's getting into modeling," he explained. "She really wants to move out to Los Angeles. There's much more in the way of opportunities for models out there."

"And you don't want to move out there," I speculated.

"Actually, I'd love to. I could expand the business out west. I've got a trusted assistant manager who could keep things going here in New Jersey at the same time. What I lack is funds to make a move like that. Business is great right now, but I figure it will be a couple more years before I'll be able to swing a move out west, along with the start-up costs involved with getting set up in California."

That's when I had a brainstorm. Derek was a friend. He also had a fine mind for business and a well-established passion for photography.

"Tell you what, Derek. Let's meet for lunch on Monday; my treat. And bring Annie with you."

May 21, 1990

It was a bright, sunny spring day; I met them at an outdoor cafe in New Brunswick. After we sat down and ordered our food, I sprang it on them.

"I have a proposal for you both. I believe this would be a win-win situation. Tell me what you think." I proceeded to lay it out for them. We talked it over as we ate, and by the time the check arrived, we'd come to a handshake agreement. Derek and I would be business partners.

I would provide the majority of the funding for their move to Los Angeles, as well as the start-up costs for the new west coast division of the photography business, which initially would consist of three studios in locations to be determined. I'd done some research over the weekend, and I could easily afford this. In return, I would become a silent minority partner with forty percent ownership. I wouldn't be involved in the day-to-day operations in any respect, but I would provide free consulting on an as-needed basis. More details would need to be hammered out later, but the basics were in place.

"We can't thank you enough, Pat," said a highly appreciative Annie, who'd just seen a dream of hers come true.

"Yeah, dude, you're a life saver," Derek threw in. "We just solved a problem that seemed to have no solution."

"You're welcome," I told them. "You're old friends, and I'm in a position to kick loose what you need. But like I said, I'm looking at this as win-win. If you're anywhere near as successful in California as you are in New Jersey, this venture will have been well worth it financially."

June 3, 1990

Now that I'd quit my job, Inez and I were spending a great deal of time together at home. As bloated and uncomfortable as she felt at this stage, she really needed the company. This was a very special time in our lives, and we were grateful to be able to share the bulk of it together.

At around eleven o'clock in the morning, I was in the kitchen washing the dishes from breakfast. I'd just gotten off the phone with Eileen. It was Sunday, and Mom and Dad were planning to come up for a visit. I heard my wife, who was lounging out on the sofa, emit a curious squealing sound. I ran out to check on her.

"Everything's okay, honey," she said, giggling at my concern. "I think this daughter of ours in gonna be a soccer player. She's kicking up a storm in there this morning."

About fifteen minutes later, we were snuggled up together when I felt Inez tense up suddenly. "Ooooh!" she cried out, doubling over in pain. "Ya think?" she managed to get out as the little episode abated.

"Could be," I replied, noting the time on my watch.

"But the due date isn't for another week," she pointed out.

"Let's see what happens," I told her, as we sat and waited. It was all we could do; I felt my pulse racing. Then, thirteen minutes later, another contraction hit, more intense and longer in duration than the one preceding it. Another followed a mere ten minutes later. That was almost an Action Point in our hospital pre-planning.

"We'd better get to the hospital," I uttered at that point. I helped Inez to her feet, and quickly wrote a note for Mom and Dad, telling them what was going on. I found the bag we'd packed in anticipation of this moment, and we were on our way.

At the hospital, the doctor said the magic words to Inez: "You'll be staying here."