The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,76

her sheet music.

“Great job, Junie!” I congratulated.

“Aunt Alice!” she squealed when she saw me.

Her excitement produced a pang of guilt and regret. I really needed to make a better effort to spend more time with my family.

“These are for you.” I handed her the bouquet of flowers. I was suddenly very thankful that Anissa had suggested we pick them up. The gesture made me feel a little less rotten. “You were so good up there!”

June mashed her face into the flowers.

“We were going to grab a late lunch after this, if you’re free,” Dawn said as she gathered Peter and her purse. “You probably have to get back to the city though.”

I couldn’t tell if my sister was giving us an excuse for an early exit, or if it was more of her passive-aggressive guilt tripping.

I looked in Anissa’s direction, not sure how much more of my family she wanted to endure.

She shrugged. “I can always eat.”

“Good,” Dawn approved with a rare smile. “Anissa, do you eat pizza?”

“She’s American, isn’t she?” I snapped.

“I … I was more asking about food allergies,” my sister explained. She looked startled by my outburst. “Mom reflexes. You wouldn’t believe how complicated pizza parties have gotten. It’s all gluten-free crust and vegan cheese these days.”

Anissa flashed my sister a brilliant smile as if I hadn’t just been rude. “I eat everything.”

My sister’s eyes squinted in contemplation. Her voice dropped conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on pineapple on pizza?”

Anissa pursed her lips, matching Dawn’s level of seriousness. “With Canadian bacon,” she slowly drawled, “there’s no perfect pairing.”

The smile on Dawn’s features grew. “Oh, I like this girl.”

I closely followed the taillights of Dawn’s SUV, not knowing the directions to the restaurant. I’d turned on the car radio for background noise, but that didn’t help ease the tension I’d felt since I’d snapped at my sister. We drove through several stoplights before Anissa spoke.

“You’ve never dated a person of color.” It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “That was terrible back there. I’m sorry if I made things awkward.”

“I know you mean well and you’re only looking out for me,” Anissa said lightly, “but I’ve been living in this skin for thirty-four years. I don’t need you jumping to my defense every time you think someone is being a bigot.”

“At least now I know how old you are,” I tried to joke.

Anissa didn’t take the bait. Her features remained serious. “You can’t freak out like that, Alice. It makes me feel like you’re the one uncomfortable with the color of my skin.”

I let out a deep, uneven breath. “I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “My sister puts me on edge. Ever since we got to June’s piano recital, I’ve felt like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter. It’s like my brain was just waiting for an opportunity to snap on her. I’m sorry I overreacted and I made you uncomfortable. That’s literally the last thing I wanted to happen today.”

My earnest apology coaxed an encouraging smile onto Anissa’s face. She reached across the center console and rested her hand on my knee.

When we arrived at the mom-and-pop Italian restaurant, a hostess led us to a large, circular table in one corner of the restaurant. It was too late for Sunday brunch and too early for dinner, so the restaurant was fairly empty. When I saw the table, I instantly became concerned about seating arrangements. There were five of us for six place settings. Even though I knew she could hold her own, I didn’t want Anissa stranded by my sister, knowing Dawn wouldn’t be able to resist peppering her with questions. But I also didn’t want the empty seat beside her, which might make her feel like she was isolated on an island.

Peter and June claimed two chairs next to each other. My sister clucked her tongue. “Can you handle sitting next to each other? I’d better not have to separate you,” she warned.

My niece and nephew ducked their heads as they sat down. “We can. You won’t,” they collectively mumbled.

Anissa and I similarly grabbed two adjacent chairs.

“I’d better not have to separate you two, either,” Dawn said pointedly.

My eyes widened at the suggestion. My sister looked pleased by her clever and quick thinking. I was privately impressed by the uncharacteristically sassy remark, but I didn’t want to give her too much credit. Her ego was big enough.

Once seating assignments had been settled, Dawn produced a plastic bag full of