Mira looked up from the napkins. “Don’t worry. Rosa hardly ever calls in sick. Usually she can handle the so-called crowd. And you’ll get better.”
“I know, but …” Angie looked down at her hands. Two bright pink burn spots marred her skin. Fortunately, she’d spilled the hot sauce on herself and not on Mrs. Guiliani. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Mira folded the thick white napkin into a swan and pushed it across the table.
Angie was reminded of the night Papa had taught her how to turn a plain square of fabric into this bird. When she looked up and saw her sister’s smile, she knew the reminder had been intentional.
“It took Livvy and me weeks to learn how to do that. We sat on the floor by Papa, trying to copy his every move so he would smile at us and say Good job, my princesses. We thought we were doing so well … then you joined us and learned how to fold it in three tries. This one, Papa said, kissing your cheek, can do anything.”
The memory should have made her smile, but this time she saw more. “That must have been tough on you and Livvy.”
Mira waved off the concern. “That wasn’t my point. This place—DeSaria’s—it’s in your blood, just as it’s in ours. Not being a part of it for all those years doesn’t change who you are. You’re one of us, and you can do whatever needs to be done. Papa believed in you and so do I.”
“I’m afraid.”
Mira smiled gently. “That’s not you.”
Angie turned her head and stared through the window at the empty street. Leaves fell to the ground, skittered across the rough cement sidewalk. “It’s who I’ve become.” She hated to admit it.
Mira leaned forward. “Can I be honest?”
“Absolutely not.” Angie tried to laugh, but when she looked at her sister’s earnest face, she couldn’t do it.
“You’ve gotten … self-centered in the last few years. I don’t mean selfish. Wanting a baby and then losing Sophie … It made you … quiet. Alone somehow.”
Alone somehow.
It was true.
“I felt as if I were hanging on by a thread and there was a huge hole beneath me.”
“Then you fell anyway.”
She thought about that. She’d lost her daughter, her father, and her husband in the same year. That was certainly the fall she’d been afraid of. “Sometimes I think I’m still falling. At night it’s especially bad.”
“Maybe it’s time to look outward.”
“I have the restaurant. I’m trying.”
“What about all the hours when we’re closed?”
Angie swallowed. “It’s hard,” she admitted. “I try to study and make notes.”
“A job can’t be enough.”
Angie wished she could argue with the veracity of the statement, but she’d learned the truth of it long ago, when she’d loved her job and longed for a baby. “No.”
“Maybe it’s time to reach out to someone else in need.”
Angie thought about that. The first image that popped into her mind was of the teenager she’d seen in the Safeway parking lot. Angie had been helped by helping the girl. That night, she’d slept through until morning.
Maybe that was the answer. Helping someone else.
She felt herself start to smile. “My Mondays are free.”
Mira smiled back. “And most of your mornings.”
For the first time ever, Lauren woke up feeling completely safe. David’s arms were around her, holding her close, even in sleep.
She reveled in the feel of it, smiling, imagining a married life that would always be this way.
She lay there a long time, watching him sleep. Finally, she eased away from him and rolled out of bed. She’d make him breakfast and serve it to him in bed.
At his chest of drawers, she paused and opened the top drawer. Finding a long T-shirt, she put it on and went downstairs.
The kitchen was amazing—all granite and stainless steel and mirrored surfaces. The pots and pans shone silver in the light. She scouted through the cupboards and the refrigerator, finding everything she needed to make scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. When breakfast was ready, she put it all on a beautiful wooden tray and carried it upstairs.
She found David sitting up in bed, yawning. “There you are,” he said, grinning at her entrance. “I was worried.…”
“Like I’d ever leave you.” She crawled up into bed beside him and settled the tray between them.
“This looks great,” he said, kissing her cheek.