“I think my daughter is trying to change the menu that has been good enough for DeSaria’s for years.”
“Small changes, Mama. The kind that take us forward in time.” She paused, loading the big gun. “Papa would have approved.”
“He loved my calamari ripieni, it’s true.” Mama pushed away from the sink and sat down beside Angie. “I remember when your papa bought me the Cadillac. He was so proud of that car.”
“But you wouldn’t drive it.”
Mama smiled. “Your papa thought I was crazy, ignoring that beautiful car. So one day he sold my Buick and left the new car keys on the table, along with a note that read: Meet me for lunch. I’ll bring the wine.” She smiled. “He knew I had to be pushed into change.”
“I don’t want to push too hard.”
“Yes, you do.” Mama sighed. “Your whole life has been about pushing, Angela, getting what you want.” She touched Angie’s cheek. “Your papa loved that about you, and he’d be so proud of you right now.”
Suddenly, Angie wasn’t thinking about the menu at all. She was thinking about her father and all the things that she missed about him; the way he hefted her on his shoulders to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade, the way he said prayers with her at night and told silly, meaningless jokes at the breakfast table.
“So,” Mama said, her eyes misty, too. “We will try a few specials this week and then we will see.”
“It’ll work, Mama. You’ll see. Business will really pick up when the ads start. We’re the front page of the entertainment section on Sunday.”
“Already more people are coming. I must admit that. It’s a good thing you hired that girl. She’s been a good waitress,” Mama said. “When you hired her—a redhead—I was sure we were in for trouble, and when you told me about the poor thing needing a dress, I thought—”
“Oh, no.” Angie shot to her feet. “The dance.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Tomorrow night is homecoming. That’s why Lauren was hanging around in the kitchen. She wanted to remind me that she needed tomorrow night off.”
“Then why did she say she’d work?”
“I don’t know.” Angie fished her car keys out of her pocket and grabbed her coat off the hook by the door. “Bye, Mama. See you tomorrow.”
Angie hurried from the restaurant. Outside, a light rain was falling.
She looked up and down the street.
No Lauren.
She ran to the parking lot and got in her car, heading north on Driftwood. There wasn’t another car on the road. She was about to turn onto the highway when she noticed the bus stop.
Light from a nearby streetlamp spilled down, giving everything a soft, amber glow. Even from this distance, she could see Lauren’s copper-red hair.
She pulled up in front of her.
Lauren looked up slowly. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Oh,” she said, snapping upright when she saw Angie.
Angie hit the window button. The glass slid downward. Cold air immediately whooshed into the car. She leaned toward the passenger side. “Get in.”
Lauren pointed behind her. “My bus is here. But thanks.”
“Tomorrow is the dance, right?” Angie said. “That’s what you were trying to tell me in the kitchen.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
Lauren looked away. “I don’t feel like it.”
Angie glanced down at the girl’s old, too-worn shoes. “I offered to loan you a dress, remember?”
Lauren nodded.
“Do you need one?”
“Yes.” The answer was barely audible.
“Okay. You be at the restaurant at three o’clock. Have you made arrangements to get dressed at a friend’s house?”
Lauren shook her head.
“Would you like to get ready at my house? It might be fun.”
“Really? I’d love that.”
“Okay. Call David and tell him to pick you up at my house, 7998 Miracle Mile Road. It’s the first driveway after the bridge.”
The bus pulled up behind them and honked.
It wasn’t until much later, when Angie walked into her dark, empty house, that she wondered whether she’d made a mistake.
Getting a girl ready for a dance was a mother’s job.
The next morning Angie hit the ground running. At seven o’clock she and Mama met with suppliers and delivery men. By ten they’d ordered most of the week’s food, checked the vegetables and fruits for freshness, made out the payroll checks, deposited money in the restaurant’s account, and dropped the tablecloths off at the laundry. When Mama went off to do her own errands, Angie headed for the printers, where she had flyers and coupons made for wine night and date night. Then she dropped off the first batch of donated coats to Help-Your-Neighbor.