“We haven’t gotten new carpeting yet,” Livvy said. “The furniture is awesome, though. Don’t you think?”
Angie noticed the taupe-colored Naugahyde La-Z-Boy, still in plastic. “Beautiful. Did you decorate yourself?”
Livvy’s plank chest seemed to expand. “I did. I was going to use a decorator, but Sal said I was as good as any of those gals down at Rick’s Sofa World.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“I was thinking maybe I’d even get a job down there. Have a seat. Coffee?”
“Sure.” Angie sat down on a sofa.
Livvy went into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with two cups of coffee. She handed one to Angie, then sat down across from her.
Angie stared into her coffee. There was no point in putting it off. “You know why I’m here.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry, Livvy. I didn’t mean to insult you or criticize you or hurt your feelings.”
“I know that. You’ve always done it accidentally.”
“I’m different from you and Mira, as you’ve pointed out so often. Sometimes I can be too … focused.”
“Is that what they call it in the big city? Us small-town girls say bitchy. Or obsessive-compulsive.” Livvy smiled. “We watch Oprah, too, you know.”
“Come on, Liv. You’re killing me here. Accept my apology and say you’ll come back to work. I need your help. I think we can really help Mama out.”
Livvy took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been helping Mama out. For five years, I’ve worked at that damn restaurant and listened to her opinion on everything from my haircut to my shoes. No wonder it took me so long to meet a decent guy.” She leaned forward. “Now I’m a wife. I have a husband who loves me. I don’t want to blow it. It’s time for me to stop being a DeSaria first and everything else second. Sal deserves that.”
Angie wanted to be angry at Livvy, to bend her sister to her will; instead, she had a fleeting, painful thought about her own marriage: Maybe at some point she should have made it more important than children. She sighed. It was too late now. “You want a new start,” she said quietly, feeling an unexpected connection to her sister. They had this in common.
“Exactly.”
“You’re doing the right thing. I should have—”
“Don’t go there, Angie. I know you flip me shit about my other husbands but I learned something from them. Life keeps going. You think it’ll stop, wait for you to be done crying, but it just keeps moving. Don’t spend your time looking back. You don’t want to miss what’s ahead.”
“I guess this is what’s ahead for me right now. Thanks a lot.” She tried to smile. “Could you see your way to helping me, at least? Maybe give me some advice?”
“You’re asking me for advice?”
“Just this once, and I probably won’t follow it.” She reached into her purse for her notepad.
Livvy laughed. “Read me your list.”
“How did you know—”
“You started making lists in third grade. Remember how they used to disappear?”
“Yeah.”
“I flushed them down the toilet. They made me crazy. All those things you wanted to accomplish.” She smiled. “I should have made a few lists of my own.”
It was as close to a compliment as Angie had ever gotten from her sister. She handed her the notepad. The list was three pages long.
Livvy flipped it open. Her lips moved as she read. A smile started, slowly at first. By the time she looked up, she was close to laughing. “You want to do all this?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Have you met our mother? You know, the woman who has put exactly the same ornaments on her Christmas tree for more than three decades? Why? Because she likes the tree the way it is.”
Angie winced. It was true. Mama was a generous, loving, giving woman … as long as things went exactly the way she wanted them to go. These changes would not be welcomed.
“However,” Livvy went on, “your ideas could save DeSaria’s … if that’s possible. But I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
“What would you do first?”
Livvy looked down at the list, flipped through the pages. “It’s not here.”
“What isn’t?”
“First, you hire a new waitress. Rosa Contadori has been serving food at DeSaria’s since before you were born. I could learn to play golf in the time it takes her to write down an order. I’ve been picking up the slack, but …” She shrugged. “I don’t see you waitressing.”
Angie couldn’t disagree with that. “Any suggestions?”
Livvy grinned. “Make sure she’s Italian.”
“Very funny.” Angie reached for her pen. “Anything else?”
“Plenty. Let’s start with the basics.…”