The Things We Do for Love

THE NEXT MORNING ANGIE HIT THE GROUND RUNNING. At seven oclock she and Mama met with suppliers and delivery men. By ten theyd ordered most of the weeks food, checked the vegetables and fruits for freshness, made out the payroll checks, deposited money in the restaurants 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.

It started raining when she was at the dry cleaners. By noon it was a full-on rainstorm. The streets were a cauldron of boiling water. There was nothing new in that.

The weather this time of year was predictable. From now until early May it would be gray skies and raindrops. Sunlight in the coming months would be a rare and unexpected gift that couldnt be counted on and wouldnt last. Those who couldnt stand the continual shadow world of misty gray would find themselves waking in the middle of the night, restless, unable to sleep through the sound of rain on the roof.

She pulled up to the restaurant fifteen minutes late.

Lauren stood on the sidewalk beneath the restaurants green and white awning. There was an old blue backpack on the sidewalk at her feet.

Angie rolled down the window. "Sorry Im late. "

"Id thought youd forgotten. "

Angie wondered if anyone kept the promises made to this girl, or if, in fact, any promises were ever made.

"Get in," she said, opening the passenger door.

"Are you sure?"

Angie smiled. "Believe me, Lauren. Im always sure. Livvy is covering my shift. Now get in. "

Lauren did as she was told, shutting the door hard. Rain hammered the car, made it shake and rattle.

They drove in silence. The metronomic thwop-thwopthwop of the wipers was so loud it didnt make sense to talk.

When they reached the cottage, Angie parked close to the front door.

Angie turned to Lauren. "Do you think we should call your mom? Maybe shed like to join us. "

Lauren laughed. It was a bitter, humorless sound. "I dont think so. " She seemed to realize how harsh shed sounded. She smiled and shrugged. "Shes not one for dances. "

Angie didnt go down the road of those words. She was this girls boss; that was all. She was loaning a dress to Lauren. Just that.

"Okay. Lets go inside and see what I have. "

Lauren launched herself sideways, threw her arms around Angie. Her smile was so big it swallowed her face, made her look about eleven years old. "Thank you, Angie. Oh, thank you. "

LAUREN HADNT GROWN UP ON MAKE-BELIEVE. UNLIKE most of her friends, shed spent her childhood hours watching television shows that featured shoot-outs and hookers and women in jeopardy. Real life, as her mother so often pointed out. There had been no cartoons in the Ribido apartment, no Disney specials. By the tender age of seven, Lauren knew that Prince Charming was a crock. When she lay in her narrow twin bed in her apartment that smelled vaguely of cigarettes and beer, she didnt dream of being Cinderella or Snow White. Shed never seen the point in the princess-swept-off-herfeet fantasy.

Until tonight.

Angie Malone had opened a door for Lauren on this night, and the view from its porch was staggering. It was a world that seemed bathed in sunlight and possibility.

First had come the dress. No, first had come the house.

"My papa built this place," Angie had said. "When I was a kid, we spent summers out here. "

The house was tucked in among towering trees. The music of the distant surf filled the air.

A wraparound porch outlined the shingled, two-story cottage. Wicker rocking chairs were positioned carefully here and there; one could imagine sitting there, sipping hot cocoa on a day like today, watching the silver-tipped ocean below.

When Lauren saw the cottage, she stopped. This was the kind of home shed always dreamed of.

"Lauren?" Angie had said, looking back at her.

Just looking at this home sparked a well of wanting.

"Sorry," Lauren said, lurching forward.