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Mama turned to her. The old-fashioned glasses magnified her dark, teary eyes. "He wont talk to me so much anymore. He says, Its time, Maria. I dont know what Ill do all alone. "
Angie knew about that kind of loneliness. It hurt, sometimes more than you could bear, but there was no way to avoid it. You simply kept moving until it passed. "Youll never be alone, Mama. You have children and grandchildren and friends and family. "
"Its not the same. "
"No. "
Mamas mouth creased sadly downward. They sat there, silent and remembering, until Mama said, "Would you get me something to drink?"
"Sure. "
Angie sidled down the row of seats and merged into the crowd. At the door, she paused for a moment and looked back.
Mama was the only person left in the fourth row. She looked small from here, a little hunched. And she was talking to Papa.
Angie hurried across the lobby toward the bar. There were dozens of people clustered there.
That was when she saw him.
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
He looked good.
Take your breath away and make your heart ache good.
But then, hed always been the most handsome man shed ever seen. She remembered the first time shed ever seen him, all those years ago on Huntington Beach. Shed been trying to learn to surf and doing a terrible job of it. A huge wave had tumbled over her, sucked her under, and turned her around. Shed panicked and flailed, unable to tell which way was up. Then a hand had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to the surface. Shed found herself looking into the bluest pair of eyes shed ever seen. . . .
"Conlan. " She said his name quietly, as if maybe he wasnt really there and she was imagining him. She moved toward him.
He saw her.
They stared at each other, started to come together for a hug, and then backed off. They were like toys stuck in the pause mode, struggling to move.
"Its good to see you," he said.
"Its good to see you, too. "
An awkward pause settled between them, and suddenly Angie wished shed never walked over here, never said hello.
"How are you doing? Still in West End?"
"Im good. It seems I have a knack for the restaurant biz. Who knew?"
"Your dad," he said, reminding her with those two words how much he knew about her.
"Yeah. Well. Hows the news?"
"Good. Im writing a series on the freeway killer. Maybe youve read it?"
She wished she could say yes. Once, shed been his first reader on everything. "I kind of stick with local news these days. "
"Oh. "
Her heart was swelling now, starting to ache. It was beginning to hurt just standing so near him. She ought to leave while her dignity was intact. Instead, she found herself asking, "Are you by yourself?"
"No. "
She nodded; it was more a jerking tilt of the chin. "Of course not. Well, I better--" She turned to go.
"Wait. " He grabbed her wrist.
She stopped, looked down at his strong, tanned fingers, so stark against her pale wrist.
"How are you?" he asked, moving closer to her. "Really?"
She could smell his aftershave. It was the expensive Dolce & Gabbana brand shed bought him for Christmas last year. She looked up at him, noticed a tiny patch of black on his jaw where hed missed shaving. Hed always had that problem, he did everything in such a hurry. Angie had had to inspect his shave every morning. She wanted to reach up and touch his face, let her fingertip trail along his jaw. "Im okay. Better than that, really. I like being in West End again. "
"You always said youd never go home. "
"I said a lot of things. And I didnt say a lot of things. "
She saw the change that came over his face. A terrible sorrow seemed to pull at his mouth. "Dont, Ange--"
"I miss you. " She couldnt believe shed said it. Before he could respond (or not), she forced a smile. "Ive been hanging out with my sisters and being Auntie Angela again. Its fun. "
He laughed, obviously relieved by the change of subject. "Let me guess: Youve promised Jason to convince Mira that an eyebrow ring is okay. "
For a second it was like the old days between them. The good old days. "Very funny. I would never think an eyebrow ring is okay. Although he has mentioned a tattoo. "
"Conlan?"
Angie saw the blond thirty-something woman whod come up to Conlan. She wore a plain navy dress and a strand of pearls. Not a hair was out of place. She looked like the owner of a small, exclusive boutique.
"Angie, this is Lara. Lara, Angie. "
Angie forced a smile. It was probably absurdly overbright, but there was nothing she could do about that. "Its nice to meet you. Well. Id better run. " She started to rush away.
Conlan pulled her gently toward him. "Im sorry," he said quietly.
"For what?" She made herself laugh.
"Call me sometime. "
She held on to a smile by force of will. "Sure, Conlan. Id love to run into you again. Bye. "
FIFTEEN
THE WORST PART ABOUT IT WAS THAT SHED ALMOST forgotten. At least, she believed she had, and in the end, that was pretty much the same thing.
"Denial" was Miras one-word answer to Angies long, drawn-out explanation of how shed handled her emotions after the divorce.
It was, she thought, as good an observation as any. In the months between May and November, shed allowed herself to think about several of her losses. Particularly her fathers death and the loss of her daughter and the subsequent realization that there would be no babies. In fact, she was proud of the way shed handled her grief. Every now and then it had shocked her, pulled her under its icy surface, but in each instance, shed swum free.
The divorce somehow had been pushed aside, a little thing in the presence of giants.
Now she saw the whole of it and she couldnt look away.
"Theres nothing wrong with denial," she said to Mira, who stood at the stainless steel counter, making pasta.
"Maybe not, but it can fill up and explode one day. Thats how people find themselves in McDonalds with a loaded handgun. "
"Are you suggesting theres a felony in my future?"
"Im pointing out that you can ignore your feelings for only so long. "
"And Ive reached the end of my time, huh?"
"Conlan was one of the good ones," Mira said gently.
Angie went to the window, stared out at the busy street. "I think was is the key word in that sentence. "
"Some women choose to go after men theyve accidentally let go. "
"You make Conlan sound like a dog that broke its leash and ran. Should I put reward posters around Volunteer Park?"
Mira came around the counter and stood beside Angie, put a hand on her shoulder. Together they stared out the window. In the silvery pane, backed by night, they became a pair of watery faces. "I remember when you met Conlan. "
"Enough," Angie said. She couldnt go down memory lane right now.
"Im just saying--"
"I know what youre saying. "
"Do you?"
"Of course. " She gave her sister a tender smile, hoping it wasnt as sad as it felt. "Some things end, Mira. "
"Love shouldnt be one of those things. "
Angie wished she could be that naive again, but innocence was one of the casualties of divorce. Maybe the first one. "I know," she answered, leaning against her sister. She didnt say what they both knew: that it happened every day.
LAUREN GOT OFF THE BUS ON SHOREWOOD STREET.
There it was in front of her: a bright, sprawling Safeway.
You know what makes a girl throw up for no reason, dont you?
She flipped the hood of her sweatshirt up and tried to lose herself in the soft, cottony folds. Looking down to avoid eye contact with anyone, she marched into the store, snagged a red basket, and headed straight for the "feminine needs" aisle.
br /> She didnt bother pricing the tests; instead, she grabbed two boxes and tossed them in her basket, then ran to the magazine aisle, where she yanked a U. S. News & World Report out of the stack. The cover story was "How Colleges Compare. "
Perfect.
She tossed it on top of her pregnancy tests and made a beeline for the checkout.
An hour later she was home again, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Shed locked the door, but there had been no need. The sounds that came from her mothers bedroom were unmistakable: Mom wouldnt be bothering Lauren right now.
She stared down at the box. The fine print was hard to read; her hands were trembling as she opened the box.
"Please God. " She didnt voice the rest of her plea. He knew what she wanted.
Or, more precisely, what she most fervently did not want.
ANGIE STOOD AT THE HOSTESS DESK, MAKING NOTES on the calendar. For the last twenty-four hours shed worked from sunup to sundown. Anything was better than thinking about Conlan.
She looked up and saw Lauren standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames. The restaurant was full of customers, and yet there Lauren stood, doing nothing. Angie went to her, touched the girls shoulder.
Lauren turned, looking dazed. "What? Did you say something?"
"Are you okay?"
"Fine. Fine. I just needed something for table seven. " She frowned as if she couldnt remember what shed just said.
"Zabaglione. "
"Huh?"
"Table seven. Mr. and Mrs. Rex Mayberry. Theyre waiting for zabaglione and cappuccino. And Bonnie Schmidt ordered a tiramisu. "
Laurens smile was pathetic. Her dark eyes remained dull, even sad. "Thats right. " She headed for the kitchen.
"Wait," Angie said.
Lauren paused, looked back.
"Mama made some extra panna cotta. You know how quickly it goes bad. Stay a few minutes after work and have some with me. "
"I hardly need to eat fattening foods," Lauren said, and walked away.
For the next few hours, Angie watched Lauren closely, noticing the paleness of her skin, the woodenness of her smile. Several times she tried to make Lauren laugh, all to no avail. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe it was David. Or maybe shed been rejected by a college.
By the time Angie had ushered out the final guest, said good-bye to Mama, Mira, and Rosa, and closed out the register, she was really worried.
Lauren stood at the big picture window, staring out at the night, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Across the street, volunteers were busily hanging turkeys and pilgrim hats from the streetlamps. Next, Angie knew, theyd string thousands of Christmas lights for the celebration that followed Thanksgiving. The annual tree lighting ceremony was an event to be remembered. Hundreds of tourists came to town for it. The first Saturday in December. Angie had rarely missed it, not even during her married years. Some family traditions were inviolable.
Angie came up behind Lauren. "Its only a week until the first lighting celebration. "
"Yeah. "
She could see Laurens face in the window; the reflection was pale and indistinct. "Do you guys go to the ceremony every year?"
"You guys?" Lauren uncrossed her arms.
"You and your mom. "
Lauren made a sound that might have been a laugh. "Mommie Dearest isnt one to stand in line on a cold night to watch lights turn on. "