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"I saw her at Help-Your-Neighbor when I went to volunteer. She was there, asking for a winter coat for her mother. Thats 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 sisters voice and she understood. Everyone thought Angie was so easily victimized. It was because of Sarah Dekker. When theyd 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 its all about? Shit. I thought I was just hiring a kid to serve food on weekends. "
"Maybe Im wrong. Overreacting. "
"And maybe I dont make the best choices. "
"Dont go there, Ange," Mira said softly. "Im sorry I brought it up. I worry too much. Thats the problem with family. But youre right to hire a new waitress. Mama will simply have to understand. "
Angie almost laughed. "Yeah. Shes 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 adults knowledge--that caught Angies attention and held it.
You wont want me, those eyes said.
You have so much love to give. It must hurt to hold it in all the time.
Miras words came back to Angie. It had never occurred to her that she was stepping onto the merry-goround 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 wasnt about that. It wasnt. 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 wasnt.
Time to find out the answer.
Angie went to the kitchen, where she found Mama washing up the last of the nights dishes. Four pans of fresh lasagna lined the counter.
"The Bolognese is almost ready," Mama said. "Well 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. "
"Thats good for a weeknight. "
"Not good enough. "
Mama wrenched the faucets handle hard. "It will get better when the holidays come. "
Angie tried another tack. "Im a mess at waitressing. "
"Yes. Youll get better. "
"I was still better than Rosa. I watched her the other night, Mama. Ive never seen anyone move so slowly. "
"Shes been here a long time, Angela. Show some respect. "
"We need to make some changes. Thats why Im here, isnt it?"
"You will not fire Rosa. " Mama tossed down her dishrag. It hit the counter like a gauntlet.
"I would never do that. "
Mama relaxed a tiny bit. "Good. "
"Come with me," Angie said, reaching out for Mamas hand.
Together they walked out of the kitchen. In the shadow behind the archway, Angie paused. "You see that girl?"
"She ordered the lasagna," Mama said. "Looks like she loved it. "
"I want . . . Im going to hire her to work nights and weekends. "
"Shes too young. "
"Im hiring her. And shes not too young. Livvy and Mira were waitressing at a much earlier age. "
Mama shifted and frowned, studying the girl. "She doesnt look Italian. "
"She isnt. "
Mama drew in a sharp breath and pulled Angie deeper into the shadows. "Now look here--"
"Do you want me to help you in the restaurant?"
"Yes, but--"
"Then let me help. "
"Rosa will feel slighted. "
"Honestly, Mama, I think shell be glad. Last night she bumped into the walls twice. Shes tired. Shell welcome the help. "
"High school girls never work out. Ask your papa. "
"We cant ask Papa. This is for you and me to decide. "
Mama seemed to deflate at the reminder about Papa. The wrinkles in her cheeks deepened. She bit down on her lower lip and peered around the corner again. "Her hair is a mess. "
"Its raining out. I think shes been looking for work. The way you did, remember, in Chicago, when you and Papa were first married. "
The memory seemed to soften Mama. "Her shoes have holes in them, and her blouse is too small. Poor thing. Still. " She frowned. "The last redhead who worked here stole a whole nights receipts. "
"Shes not going to steal from us. "
Mama pulled away from the wall and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. She was talking, whispering, the whole time, gesturing wildly.
If Angie closed her eyes, she might have seen her father there, standing firm, smiling gently at his wifes theatrics even as he disagreed with her.
Mama spun around and came back to Angie. "He always thought you were the smart one. Fine. Hire this girl but dont let her use the register. "
Angie almost laughed at that, it was so absurd. "Okay. "
"Okay. " Mama turned on her heel and left the restaurant.
Angie glanced out the window. Mama was marching down the street, arguing with a man who wasnt there.
"Thanks, Papa," Angie said, smiling as she walked through the now empty restaurant.
Lauren looked up at her. "That was delicious," she said, sounding nervous. She folded her napkin carefully and set it on the table.
"My mother can really cook. " Angie sat down across from the girl. "Are you a responsible employee?"
"Completely. "
"We can count on you to show up on time?"
Lauren nodded. Her dark eyes were earnest. "Always. "
Angie smiled. This was the best shed felt in months. "Okay, then. You can start tomorrow night. Say five to ten. Is that okay?"
"Its great. "
Angie reached across the table and shook Laurens warm hand. "Welcome to the family. "
"Thanks. " Lauren got quickly to her feet. "Id better go home now. "
Angie would have sworn she saw tears in the girls brown eyes, but before she could comment on it, Lauren was gone. It wasnt until later, when Angie was closing out the register, that it dawned on her.
Lauren had bolted at the word family.
WHEN ANGIE GOT HOME, THE COTTAGE WAS QUIET AND dark, and in all those shadows lay loneliness.
She closed the door behind her and stood there, listening to the sound of her own breathing. It was a sound shed grown used to, and yet here, in this house that had been loud in her youth, it wounded her. When she couldnt stand it anymore, she tossed her purse on the entry table and went to the old RCA stereo in the living room. She pushed a cassette into the tape player and turned the system on.
Tony Bennetts voice floated through the speakers, filling the room with music and memories. This was her papas favorite tape; the one hed made himself. Every song began late, sometimes as much as a whole stanza. Whenever hed heard one he loved, hed jump up from his chair and run for the stereo, yelling, "I love this
one!"
She wanted to smile at the memory, but that lightness wasnt in her. In fact, it felt far away. "I hired a new waitress tonight, Papa. Shes a high school girl. You can imagine Mamas reaction to that. Oh, and she has red hair. "
She went to the window and stared outside. Moonlight dusted the waves and glistened along the dark blue sea. The next song came on. Bette Midlers "Wind Beneath My Wings. "
It had played at his funeral.
The music swirled around her, threatened to pull her under.
"It is easy to talk to him, isnt it? Especially here. "
Angie spun around at the sound of her mothers voice.
Mama stood behind the sofa, staring at her, obviously trying to smile. She was dressed in a ratty old flannel nightgown, one Papa had given her years ago. She crossed the room and snapped off the stereo.
"What are you doing here, Mama?"
Mama sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion. "I knew you would have a hard night. "
Angie sat down beside her, close enough to lean against her mothers steady side. "How did you know?"
Mama put an arm around her. "The girl," she said at last.
Angie couldnt believe she hadnt figured it out. Of course. "Ill need to keep my distance from her, wont I?"
"Youve never been good at that. "
"No. "
Mama tightened her hold. "Just be careful. Your heart is soft. "
"It feels as if its in pieces sometimes. "
Mama made a sound, a little sigh. "We keep breathing in times like that. Theres nothing else. "
Angie nodded. "I know. "
After that, they got out a deck of cards and played gin rummy long into the night. By the time they fell asleep side by side on the sofa, curled up beneath a quilt Mama had made years ago, Angie had found her strength again.
NINE
LAUREN SHOWED UP FOR WORK FIFTEEN MINUTES early. She wore her best pair of black jeans and a white cotton blouse that shed gotten Mrs. Mauk to iron for her.
She knocked on the door and waited for an answer. When none came, she cautiously opened the door and peered inside.
The restaurant was dark. Tables sat in shadows. "Hello?" She closed the door behind her.
A woman came around the corner, moving fast, her hands coiled in the stained white apron that covered her clothing. She saw Lauren and stopped.
Lauren felt like a bug trapped in a childs hand. That was how this woman stared at her, narrow-eyed and frowning. Old-fashioned eyeglasses made her eyes appear huge.
"You are the new girl?"
She nodded, feeling a slow blush creep up her cheeks. "Im Lauren Ribido. " She stepped forward, held her hand out. They shook hands. The womans grip was stronger than Lauren had expected.
"I am Maria DeSaria. Is this your first job?"
"No. Ive been working for years. When I was little-- fifth and sixth grade--I picked strawberries and raspberries at the Magruder farm. Ive been working at Rite Aid since it opened last summer. "
"Berries? I thought that was mostly migrant workers. "
"It is. Mostly. The pay was okay for a kid. "
Maria tilted her head to one side, frowning as she studied Lauren. "Are you a troubled girl? Runaway, drugs? That sort of thing?"