Page 6 of Summer on Sunshine Bay

“I have a feeling it will take more than a couple of laughs to make her feel better, Mimi, but I’ll try.” Eva hung up her apron before making her way into the restaurant. Her mother and sister sat at the bar with glasses of wine the size of fishbowls. At the sight of the nearly empty dining room, Eva poured herself an equally large glass of Chianti.

As she did, she racked her brain for something to say that would lift her mother’s spirits. Carmen looked as if she were going to a funeral. And not only because of the black wraparound dresses they all wore for work. Her mother’s red-painted mouth was clamped tight, and her eyes were too bright. Eva needed something to distract her before Carmen started ranting about their disloyal customers and sent the few diners they had running for the door.

It was a shame Lila had postponed her welcome-home dinner until next weekend. There was no better distraction than having the family together. But Lila wanted to get settled first. Eva imagined her daughter had a long list of things she wanted to accomplish before she allowed herself to relax and have some fun. Lila didn’t take after Eva. She was an uptight perfectionist like her father.

Eva used to joke that Lila had come out of the womb in a beige suit with a BlackBerry clenched in her fist. As she got older, Lila would quip that Eva must’ve come out of the womb in a G-string with a bottle of wine in her hand. Eva smiled. She couldn’t wait to see her.

Despite their differences, they had a wonderful relationship. Gia and her daughters, Sage and Willow, had the same kind of close relationship Eva had with Lila. They’d raised their girls together, and it thrilled them to no end that their daughters were as close as sisters.

Carmen pointed her wineglass at Eva, droplets of bold red liquid splashing onto the bar. “Why are you smiling? We’ve had nine cancellations. We’ll be out of business in a month if this keeps up.” She nodded at Gia. “This one, she’ll be fine. But you and I, Eva, La Dolce Vita is all we’ve got.”

“That’s not fair, Ma. I love the restaurant. You know I do. I put in as much time here as you and Eva.”

“Certo, sure, but it’s not the same. You aren’t like me and your sister. You have your art,cara mia,” her mother said, her Italian accent still noticeable despite having been born in Sunshine Bay.

“It’s a hobby. I need the money I earn from the restaurant as much as you and Eva do.”

“Don’t do that, G. You’re an incredibly talented artist,” Eva protested, as she always did when her sister belittled her talent.

Gia pursed her lips. “Who doesn’t make any money from her art.”

“Because you don’t show it to anyone!”

Carmen, who’d been focused on the nearly empty dining room, patted her chest. “My heart, it’s racing. I think I’m having a heart attack. Get me my pills.”

Eva held back an eye roll. Carmen had aheart attackwhenever she was upset or wanted to manipulate her family into doing what she wanted. “Ma, you don’t have heart medication. Dr. Alva told you you’re as healthy as a forty-year-old, remember?”

Their mother didn’t look a day over sixty. It probably helped that there wasn’t a single gray strand in her dyed mahogany shoulder-length layered hair. She’d turn seventy-four in December.

Eva had plucked two silver strands from her own head the day before, and one from her chin. Her mother had pointed out the chin hair in the middle of the previous day’s lunch service. She’d spotted it from across the dining room.

The woman had 20/20 vision since filling the prescription that had sat buried in her nightstand drawer for ten years. Eva doubted she would’ve filled it if she hadn’t spotted the chic red-framed glasses in the window of the optical shop.

Carmen took off her glasses and set them on the bar, pressing her thumbs against the corners of her eyes. “What does she know? She’s abambina.”

Dr. Alva was the same age as Eva. They’d gone to school together.

Bruno, a distinguished-looking bald man in a pristine white shirt and impeccably pressed black pants, stood at the hostess stand with a phone pressed to his ear. Bruno had been working at La Dolce Vita for as long as Eva could remember. He was a father figure to her and her sisters and one of their mother’s closest confidants. As though sensing Eva’s attention, he turned his back.

Madonna santo.Someone else must’ve canceled their reservation.

“So,” Eva said, drawing her mother’s attention, “you know how you two keep telling me I’m going through the menopause? I discovered this afternoon that you’re probably right.”

She drew out the story, changed it up a bit to protect both her and Ryan’s reputations—portraying him as a talented lover with no mention of her missing libido—culminating with Ryan thinking she’d wet the bed.

Her mother and sister stared at her and then started laughing. The three of them were howling with tears streaming down their faces when Bruno approached the bar.

“Are you going to let me in on the joke?” he asked, but there was no twinkle in his dark eyes, and his movie-star smile was missing.

Eva covered her mother’s open mouth. No way was she letting her share Eva’s hot-flash story with anyone. She should’ve sworn her mother and sister to secrecy before she’d told them. Their word was their bond.

“Now you have me intrigued. Come on, tell me your joke,” he cajoled. If Bruno was about to tell them they had another cancelation, he probably could use a laugh as much as the three of them. But no way would Eva talk about her sex life with the man who’d played the role of her father for the past thirty years.

Her mother pulled Eva’s hand from her mouth; her eyes narrowed at Bruno. “What’s wrong?”

“Ruth called.” He reached for Carmen’s glass of wine, took a large swallow, and then continued. “They had to cancel their reservation for tonight’s birthday dinner. Several members of the family are ill.”

It was bad enough that the reservation had been for a party of ten. The fact that Ruth Hollingsworth was her mother’s best friend made it ten times worse.

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