Kristin Hannah's Family Matters 4-Book Bundle: Angel Falls, Between Sisters, The Things We Do for Love, Magic Hour (85 page)

When Lauren’s shift was over, she rejoined her friends and watched the end of the game.

Fircrest kicked the other school’s butt.

The stands slowly emptied out. Lauren and her friends cleaned up the mess at the booth, then went to the locker room. Outside the door, they stood in a pod, talking and laughing and waiting. One by one, the players came out, hooked up with their girlfriends, and walked away.

At last, the double doors opened and the final few players rushed out, laughing and talking and punching one another in the arms. David was in their midst and
yet he stood apart somehow, the way Brad Pitt or George Clooney must have stood out in their high schools. The floodlights fell on him alone, and right then, he appeared golden, from his blond hair to his bright smile.

Lauren ran to him. He separated easily from the pack and pulled her into an embrace. “You were great,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I was, wasn’t I? Did you see that bomb to Jared?
Shit.
I was on fire.” Laughing, he kissed her.

At the flagpole, he stopped, looked around.

Lauren knew what—or whom—he was looking for. She tensed up, slipped her arm around him, and settled in close.

The rest of the kids drifted toward their cars. They heard the distant sound of engines starting, doors slamming shut, horns honking. The party at the beach would be huge tonight. There was nothing like a big victory to get the gang going. Their last home game had been quiet; she and David had spent the hours afterward in his mom’s car, talking about everything. This night would be different. She didn’t care how they celebrated as long as they were together.

“Hey, David,” someone called out, “are you and Lauren coming to the beach?”

“We’ll be there,” David said, waving back. His eyes were narrowed; he kept glancing away from the lights, toward the field. The parking lot. Finally, he said, “Did you see them?”

Before Lauren could answer, she heard his mother’s voice. “David. Lauren. There you are.”

Mrs. Haynes crossed the courtyard and came up to them. She hugged David fiercely, and then smiled up at him. Lauren wondered if David saw the way that smile shook. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” David looked behind her.

“Your dad had a business meeting tonight,” she said slowly. “He’s sorry.”

David’s face seemed to crumble. “Whatever.”

“I’ll take you guys out for pizza, if you’d like—”

“No, thanks. There’s a party at Clayborne Beach. But thanks.” David grabbed Lauren’s hand and pulled her away.

Mrs. Haynes fell into step beside them. In silence, the three of them walked to the parking lot. David opened the car door for Lauren.

She paused for a moment, looked at his mother. “Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Haynes,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” she answered quietly. “Have fun.” Then she looked at David. “Be home by midnight.”

He walked around to his side of the car. “Sure.”

Later that night, as they were huddled around the fire, sitting amid a circle of kids who were talking about the traditional grad night party, Lauren leaned against him, whispered, “I’m sure he wanted to be there.”

David sighed. “Yeah. He’ll be there next Friday,” he said, but when he looked at her, his eyes were bright. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

Finally, he smiled.

In the past few days, Angie had worked ceaselessly. Every morning, she was up before dawn and seated at the kitchen table, with notes and menus and paperwork spread out before her. In these, the quiet, pale pink hours, she put together the coat campaign and created a series of advertisements and promotions. By seven-thirty, she was at the restaurant, meeting with Mama to learn the behind-the-scenes routine.

First, they visited the suppliers. Angie watched her mother move through the boxes of fresh vegetables,
choosing the same things day after day: tomatoes, green peppers, eggplants, iceberg lettuce, yellow onions, and carrots. Mama never paused to inspect the portobello or porcini mushrooms, the brightly colored array of peppers, the baby pea pods, the butter lettuce, or the rich, dark truffles.

It was the same routine at the fish and meat markets. Mama bought tiny, shell pink shrimp for cocktails and nothing else. From Alpac Brothers, she chose extra lean ground sirloin, ground pork and veal, and dozens of boneless chicken breasts. By the end of the fourth day, Angie had begun to see the missed opportunities. Finally, she hung back, told Mama to “go on home”; that Angie would be along soon. As soon as Mama left, Angie turned to the produce supervisor. “Okay,” she said, “let’s pretend that DeSaria’s is a brand-new restaurant.”

For the next few hours, he tossed information at her like a circus performer. She caught every word and wrote it down, then did the same thing at the fish and meat markets.

She must have asked a hundred questions.

The vendors answered each question patiently, and by the end of the week, Angie was beginning to understand how they could improve the menu. She compulsively collected recipes and menus from some of the most famous restaurants in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York. All of them, she noticed, used the freshest
local ingredients for seasonal dishes. In addition, she read all her father’s notes and records and interrogated her sisters until they begged for mercy.

For the first time in her life, she was becoming a part of the restaurant instead of a satellite in its orbit. To Angie’s—and everyone’s—surprise, she loved it.

On Saturday night, in between helping Lauren waitress, she read over the accounts payable, paid bills, and jotted down some notes on what supplies were running low. The day passed in a blur of activity, and by the time the last guests left, she was exhausted.

It felt great.

She said good night to Mama and Mira, then got two bowls of gelato and sat down at a table by the fireplace. She loved this time of night, in the quiet of the closed restaurant. It relaxed her, and sometimes, in the crackle of the fire or the tap of rain on the roof, she felt her father’s presence.

“I’m going home now, Angie,” Lauren said, walking through the dining room.

“Have some of this gelato with me. It’s delicious.” It had become a ritual in the past few nights: Angie and Lauren sharing dessert at the end of the evening. Angie actually looked forward to it.

Lauren grinned. “At this rate I’ll have to waddle to the dance.”

Angie laughed. “Funny. Sit.”

Lauren sat down across from her, where Angie had already placed a bowl of the gelato and a spoon.

Angie spooned up a bit of gelato, let it melt in her mouth, “Man, this is good. Too bad we hardly had any customers tonight.” She looked at Lauren. “Your tips can’t be too good.”

“They’re not.”

“The ad for the coat drive hits tomorrow. That should help.”

“I hope so.”

Angie heard the desperate edge in Lauren’s voice. “How much does a homecoming dress cost these days?”

Lauren sighed. “Lots.”

Angie studied her. “What size are you?”

“An eight.”

“Same as me.” The answer was there, plain as the spoon in her hand. “I could loan you a dress. Conlan—my … ex-husband—was a reporter for the
Seattle Times.
Every now and then we went to some event. So I have a few dresses. One of them might fit you.”

The look on Lauren’s face was easy to read: a combination of longing and shame. “I couldn’t do that. But thanks.”

Angie decided not to push the offer. Lauren could think about it. “You’re going with the boy who picks you up from work?”

Lauren blushed. “David Haynes.”

Angie saw the transformation, knew what it meant.
Love.
It was no surprise. Lauren was a serious girl, the kind who fell in love hard and didn’t come out of it easily. A good girl, in other words. “How long have you and David been dating?”

“Almost four years.”

Angie lifted her eyebrows. High school years were like those of a dog’s life; four years could be a lifetime.

She wanted to say
Be careful, Lauren; love can kill you,
but of course she didn’t. If Lauren was lucky, it was a lesson she’d never learn.

The thought made Angie sigh. Suddenly, she was thinking about Conlan and all the years she’d loved him. And how it had felt when it was gone.

She got up from the table quickly, before her sadness
could be seen. She stood by the window, staring out at the night. The cold of autumn had come early this year; already a layer of frost was forming on the street. All over town leaves were falling from shivering trees, landing in piles on the sidewalks and along the roadsides. By this time next week, those heaps would be slippery and black. Soon there would be no leaves left.

“Are you okay?”

Angie heard the worry in Lauren’s voice and it embarrassed her. “Fine.” Before she could say more, apologize or perhaps explain, a car pulled up outside the restaurant and honked.

“That’s David,” Lauren said, popping to her feet.

Angie looked at the car out front. It was a classic Porsche Speedster, painted primer gray. The wheels shone with chrome and the tires were obviously new. “That’s some car.”

Lauren came up beside her. “I call him Speed Racer sometimes. You know, from the old cartoon. ’Cause he lives for that car.”

“Ah. A boy and his car.”

Lauren laughed. “If I have to see one more paint chip, I might scream. Of course I don’t tell him that.”

Angie stared down at the girl. Never had she seen such purity of emotion, such blatant adoration. First love. All at once, she remembered how consuming it was. She almost said,
You be careful, Lauren,
but it wasn’t her place. Such advice was for a mother to give.

“See you Tuesday,” Lauren said, leaving.

Angie watched Lauren go outside. The girl ran across the sidewalk and disappeared into the sports car.

And suddenly she was thinking of a long time ago, back when she’d been head-over-heels in love with Tommy Matucci. He’d driven an old, battered Ford Fairlane;
rickety and temperamental as that car had been, he’d loved it.

Funny.

She hadn’t thought of that in years.

They parked in front of Lauren’s building, in their usual spot. She gently eased herself into position. It wasn’t easy in a car this small; the gear shift seemed to take up a lot of space. Still, they’d had years to perfect their technique.

David took her in his arms and kissed her. She felt herself falling into that familiar breathy darkness, that needing. Her heartbeat sped up. Within minutes the windows were fogged up and their privacy was complete.

“Lauren,” he murmured, and she heard it in his voice, too; that needing of her. His hand slid beneath her blouse. She shivered at the touch.

Then his wristwatch started to bleat.

“Shit,” he groaned, pulling his hand from her body. “I can’t
believe
they make me come home this early. I know eighth graders who can stay out till midnight.” He crossed his arms with a dramatic flourish.

It was all Lauren could do not to smile. He had no idea how childish he looked right now. The great David Ryerson Haynes, pouting. “You’re lucky,” she said, snuggling up to him. “It means they love you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Lauren felt his heartbeat; it fluttered beneath her palm. For a second, just that, she felt older than him by years.

“Your mom doesn’t give a shit what time you get home. Or even if you come home.”

“My point exactly,” she said, feeling a swell of the old bitterness. She and mom had tackled the issue of curfews
a long time ago.
I won’t be your warden,
Mom had said.
My parents tried that and it only made me more wild.
Now Lauren could come and go as she pleased.

David kissed her again, and then drew back with a sigh.

She knew instantly that something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”

He leaned across her, opened the glove box. “Here,” he said, handing her some papers.

“What—” She looked down. “The Stanford application.”

“My dad wants me to go for early decision. It’s due November fifteenth.”

“Oh,” Lauren said, easing back into her own seat. She knew he’d do anything to please his father.

“I thought you could do it, too.”

The eagerness in his voice made her want to cry. How could he drive her home, see her apartment, and not get it? “I can’t afford to do that, David. I need a scholarship. And not a few vanity bucks. I need a full ride.”

His breath exhaled heavily. “I know.”

They sat that way for a few long minutes, each in a separate seat, not touching, staring at the foggy windshield.

“I probably won’t get in,” he said at last.

“Come on, David. They have a building named after your family.”

“Then you will, too.” He turned to her then, gathered her into his arms, and held her, kissed her. She let herself be swept into that kiss until nothing else mattered but them.

Later, when she was alone again, walking through the sad darkness of her apartment, she couldn’t help wishing she lived in his world, where everything came easy. Dreams most of all.