The Things We Do for Love

This was going to be worse than Angie thought. She was going to have to tread with extreme care. An irritated Livvy was one thing. Mama pissed off was something else entirely. Barrow, Alaska, in the winter was warmer than Mama when she got mad.

Angie looked down at her notes, feeling both pairs of eyes on her. It took her a second to gather enough courage to ask: "So, how long has the menu been the same?"

Mira grinned knowingly. "Since the summer I went to Girl Scout camp. "

"Very funny," Mama snapped. "We perfected it. Our regulars love every item. "

"Im not saying otherwise. I just wondered when you last changed the menu. "

"Nineteen seventy-five. "

Angie underlined the word menu on her list. She might not know much about operating a restaurant, but she knew plenty about going out to dinner. A changing menu kept people coming back for more. "And do you offer nightly specials?"

"Everything is special. This isnt downtown Seattle, Angela. We do things our own way here. It was good enough for Papa. God rest his soul. " Mamas chin tilted in the air. The temperature in the kitchen dropped several degrees. "Now wed better get back to work. " She elbowed Mira, who went back to hand-forming the meatballs.

Angie knew when shed been dismissed. She turned and went back into the empty dining room. She saw Livvy over by the hostess desk again. Her sister was talking to Rosa, the woman whod started waitressing in the seventies. Angie waved and went upstairs.

It was quiet in her fathers office. She paused at the open doorway, letting the memories wash over her. In her mind, he was still there, sitting at the big oak desk hed bought at a Rotary Club auction, poring over the accounts.

Angelina! Come in. Ill show you about taxes.

But I want to go to the movies, Papa.

Of course you do. Run along then. Send Olivia up here.

She sighed heavily and went to his desk. She sat in his chair, heard the springs creak beneath her weight.

For the next several hours, she studied and learned and made notes. She re-read all of the old account books and then started on tax records and her fathers handwritten business notes. By the time she closed the last book, she knew that her mother was right. DeSarias was in trouble. Their income had dropped to almost nothing. She rubbed her eyes, then went downstairs.

It was seven oclock.

The middle of the dinner hour. There were two parties in the restaurant: Dr. and Mrs. Petrocelli and the Schmidt family.

"Is it always this slow?" she said to Livvy, who stood at the hostess table, studying her talon fingernails. The bright red polish was dotted with pink stars.

"Last Wednesday we had three customers all night. You may want to write that down. They all ordered lasagna, in case youre interested. "

"Like they had a choice. "

"And it begins. "

"Im not here to criticize you, Liv. Im just trying to help. "

"You want to help? Figure out how to get people through the door. Or how to pay Rosa Contadoris salary. " She glanced over at the elderly waitress who moved at a glacial pace, carrying one plate at a time.

"Itll take some changes," Angie said, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Livvy tapped a long scarlet fingernail against her tooth. "Like what?"

"Menu. Advertising. Decor. Pricing. Your payables are a mess. So is ordering. You guys are wasting a lot of food. "

"You have to cook for people, even if they dont show up. "

"Im just saying--"

"That were doing everything wrong. " She raised her voice so that Mama could hear.

"Whats that?" Mama said, coming out of the kitchen.