“Like I didn’t know that.” Mira laughed.
Angie moved a little closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder, both of them leaning against the rough wall that contained so much of their lives. They stared out at the empty parking lot. Beyond it, the street was a silvery ribbon in the darkening night. Far away, seen in slivers between the houses and trees, was the blue-gray ocean. “Remember that list Livvy helped me come up with?”
“The DeSaria destruction list, as Mama called it? How could I forget?”
“I think I’m going to make the first change.”
“Which one?”
“I found a new waitress. A high school girl. I think she could work some nights and weekends.”
Mira turned to her. “Mama’s going to let you hire a high school girl?”
Angie winced. “A problem, huh?”
“Mama will have a cow; you know that. Tell me the girl is Italian at least.”
“Don’t think so.”
Mira grinned. “This is going to be fun.”
“Knock it off. Be serious. Is it a good idea to hire a new waitress?”
“Yes. Rosa is too slow to handle any more business. I guess if you’re going to make some changes around here, this is a good place to start. How did you find her? Employment office?”
Angie bit her lip and looked down at the gravel.
“Angie?” This time Mira wasn’t smiling. There was concern in her voice.
“I saw her at Help-Your-Neighbor when I went to volunteer. She was there, asking for a winter coat for her mother. That’s how I got the idea for the coat drive.”
“So you bought her a coat.”
“You said I should help people.”
“And offered her a job.”
Angie sighed. She heard the mistrust in her sister’s voice and she understood. Everyone thought Angie was so easily victimized. It was because of Sarah Dekker. When they’d been set to adopt her baby, Angie and Conlan had opened their hearts and home to the troubled teenager.
“You have so much love to give,” Mira said finally. “It must hurt to hold it in all the time.”
The words had tiny barbs that sank into her skin. “Is that what it’s all about? Shit. I thought I was just hiring a kid to serve food on weekends.”
“Maybe I’m wrong. Overreacting.”
“And maybe I don’t make the best choices.”
“Don’t go there, Ange,” Mira said softly. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I worry too much. That’s the problem with family. But you’re right to hire a new waitress. Mama will simply have to understand.”
Angie almost laughed. “Yeah. She’s so good at that.”
Mira paused, then said, “Just be careful, okay?”
Angie knew it was good advice. “Okay.”
Angie stood in the shadows, watching the girl eat her dinner. She ate slowly, as if savoring every bite. There was something almost old-fashioned about her, a round softness that brought to mind the girls of another generation. Her long copper-colored hair was a tangle of curls that fell down her back. Its color was vibrant against her pale cheeks. She had a nose that turned up just a little at the tip and was dotted with freckles. But it was her eyes—unexpectedly brown and filled with an adult’s knowledge—that caught Angie’s attention and held it.
You won’t want me, those eyes said.
You have so much love to give. It must hurt to hold it in all the time.
Mira’s words came back to Angie. It had never occurred to her that she was stepping onto the merry-go-round of her old choices.
Loss was like that, she knew. She never knew when or where it would strike. The littlest thing could set her off. A baby carriage. A doll. A bit of sad music. The Happy Birthday song. A desperate teenage girl.
But this wasn’t about that. It wasn’t. She was almost certain.
The girl—Lauren—looked up, glanced around, then looked at her wristwatch. She pushed the empty plate away and crossed her arms, waiting.
It was now or never.
Either Mama was going to let Angie make changes around here or she wasn’t.
Time to find out the answer.
Angie went to the kitchen, where she found Mama washing up the last of the night’s dishes. Four pans of fresh lasagna lined the counter.
“The Bolognese is almost ready,” Mama said. “We’ll have plenty for tomorrow night.”
“And the rest of the month,” Angie muttered.
Mama looked up. “What does that mean?”
Angie chose her words carefully. They were like missiles; each one could start a war. “We had seven customers tonight, Mama.”
“That’s good for a weeknight.”
“Not good enough.”
Mama wrenched the faucet’s handle hard. “It will get better when the holidays come.”
Angie tried another tack. “I’m a mess at waitressing.”
“Yes. You’ll get better.”
“I was still better than Rosa. I watched her the other night, Mama. I’ve never seen anyone move so slowly.”
“She’s been here a long time, Angela. Show some respect.”
“We need to make some changes. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”