Right now, Maddy looks surprised by my question.
“Why? Because you haven’t mentioned a guy to me for, like, two years. Maybe even longer. That’s why. It piques my interest.”
I roll my eyes and wipe my hands on my smock, smearing the gray and black paint across my hips. I’m painting the full moon and landscape from the other night, and it seems like it should be portrayed by varying shades of black. A dark landscape, a dangerous night. I only hope that I can do it justice on the canvas.
“Of course I’m going to mention saving a guy’s life,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “Anyone would. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” Maddy arches one perfectly waxed eyebrow, her gaze glued to mine.
I shake my head.
“No. It doesn’t. A guy overdosed. I gave him CPR and called an ambulance. The End.”
Maddy smiles the kind of smile that means she’s just getting started.
“Yes, but you’ve elaborated several times about how good-looking he is. How dangerous. How fascinating. Seems to me that that doesn’t mean The End. And that both interests me and concerns me. This guy overdosed. On drugs. You found him convulsing in his car. That’s not exactly what I would consider relationship material.”
Maddy pauses here, her face strict and stern. I roll my eyes.
“Mila, I’m being serious,” she insists, perturbed that I’m not paying enough attention. “I haven’t personally met him, although I’ve seen him at the restaurant a few times. From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t even work. He’s a trust fund baby; a spoiled brat who doesn’t have to be responsible. Apparently, he’s a mess. A true bad boy. He would eat you for breakfast.”
And this has gone far enough.
“Maddy, let it go,” I sigh. “Seriously. It was just an interesting situation and I wanted to tell you about it. I won’t make that same mistake again, trust me, not if it’s going to earn me an unfounded lecture. You said yourself that you haven’t even met him. Besides, I’m not considering him for relationship material. I’ll probably never even see him again so you can turn off your mama bear instincts. Now, can you get back to telling me about the restaurant? What’s wrong?”
Madison turns serious now and sets the portfolio to the side, unfolding her legs from beneath her. Her deep blue eyes are troubled and that gets my attention. She’s been taking care of our parents’ restaurant ever since they died and if she’s concerned, then I should be too.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her again. I’m nervous because Maddy never shows her concern. As the big sister of our relationship, she always hides it. Always.
She sighs, her voice thin and wispy, before she turns to me.
“I may have miscalculated the risks involved with doing those renovations.”
I stare at her, confused. “You said the budget was fine, that it would be paid for by spring, and that it would practically pay for itself because it would increase business.”
She nods, troubled. “I know that’s what I said. And that’s what I thought. But I didn’t anticipate that business would drop so much this Fall. I don’t see it picking up again through the winter, because it never does. It will be tourist season before we see enough business to really bring in enough revenue to start paying on that loan.”
And now I’m startled. “What does this mean? Is The Hill in trouble?”
That thought sends me into a panic. Our parents started their little Italian restaurant when they got married and it has become a staple of Angel Bay. Situated directly on the beach, it is a popular place for tourists and locals alike in the summer.
After our parents died, my sister came back home to run it. Since she had just earned a business degree, it seemed logical. This arrangement allows me to run my little art shop, where I sell art supplies and my own paintings and prints. It’s a win-win situation. As part-owner of The Hill, I get a share of the profits every month, while still getting to do my own thing.
But apparently, things aren’t looking so good.
“Don’t freak out,” Madison instructs me calmly. “It’s not doomsday or anything. We’re just going to have to tighten our belts around the restaurant this winter. If you can pull a few shifts, that would really help. That way, we can cut wait-staff until summer.”
I nod.
“Of course. Whatever I can do to help.” Madison and I had both waited tables for our parents in high school and when we came home for summers in college. It wasn’t a big deal. I could do it with my eyes closed.
“We might also have to decrease our own pay for a while,” Madison adds slowly, her face serious as she watches for my reaction. I don’t hesitate, I just nod again.
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “I can survive on what I make here.”
I glance around at my shop, at the paintings exhibited on the walls under the spotlights and the prints hanging by thin steel cables from the ceiling. There are chic sitting areas and modern lighting, there are easels and shelves of art supplies, all perfectly arranged. It’s a trendy little shop, exactly what I had wanted, and it does alright in the winter. It does exceedingly well in the summer when tourists are here. I nod again.
“I’ll be fine,” I confirm. “Will you?”
She nods. “Yep, I’ll be fine. Since I live rent-free, I’ll be okay.”
When she had agreed to run our parents’ business, I had told her that she could live in their house. I have an apartment above my shop anyway, so it seemed like the right thing to do. Although, in the first months after mom and dad died, I spent a lot of time with her at their house anyway. It made it seem less real, like they might come walking in the door at any time.
Surprise! We were just away for a while. But we’re back now.
Of course that never happened and eventually, I went back to my little apartment. I love my sister, but we don’t live very well together. I’m a clean freak and she’s a tornado waiting to happen.
“Thank you for being so calm about this,” Maddy tells me, her mouth widening in an appreciative smile. “Like I said, it’s not the end of the world. The Hill will be just fine and by summer, we’ll see the return on our investment. But until then, consider your belt cinched.”