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both got guts, I’ll give you that. But if you don’t mind my saying, the similarity seems to end there.”
    Pink sprang to Vivi’s cheeks. “We’re very different, it’s true.” Vivi reached down to unscrew the thermos and refill her coffee cup. “Mmm, perfect,” she said after taking a sip.
    “Actually it’s not,” Anthony said politely. “No offense.”
    Vivi was taken aback. “What are you talking about? It’s fine. You’ve been drinking it, haven’t you?”
    “To be polite.”
    Vivi’s jaw clenched. “I made it myself this morning. It’s delicious.”
    “If you’re French, maybe. But we Italians like our joe a little more robust.”
    Vivi huffed indignantly. “Excuse me, but it’s the French who are known for their coffee making expertise, and this coffee is perfect.”
    “I’m just telling you for your own good. If this is what you plan to serve in your bistro, you’re going to hear some complaints. This is an Italian neighborhood, and Italians like their coffee strong.”
    “French coffee is strong. It’s just not bitter.”
    “Italian coffee isn’t bitter!”
    “It’s bitter, burnt-tasting sludge!”
    “Speak for yourself!”
    “I am.” Vivi thrust out her hand. “If you’re too much of a philistine to enjoy fine coffee, give it back to me. I don’t want it wasted.”
    “Drink up,” said Anthony, handing the thermos top back to her.
    “I have work to do,” Vivi snapped, gathering up her papers on the floor.
    Anthony rose. “Sorry for interrupting you. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He started toward the door, stopping to turn when Vivi sharply called out his name. “Yes?”
    “I certainly hope you’re nicer to your wife about her coffee than you were to me!”
    Anthony swallowed, trying to beat back the feeling of being punched in the chest. “My wife is dead.”
     
    “H e insulted your coffee? What a clod! I don’t see why you served him any in the first place.”
    Vivi said nothing as she followed Natalie into the kitchen. It was her first time visiting her half sister’s apartment in Manhattan, and she was stunned. Not only was the place huge, but Natalie seemed to have spared no expense in furnishing it. Had their father really left that much money to Natalie? Enough for her to finance the restaurant and live this luxuriously? Vivi tried not to think about it, because if so, it meant their father had truly left her a pittance in comparison, and that hurt. Still…
    “This place is so big,” Vivi marveled, running her fingertips across the marble counters enviously. “Did it come furnished?”
    “Of course not,” Natalie scoffed, pouring a cup of coffee for each of them. “You think someone else would have such good taste?”
    Vivi smiled uneasily as she accepted the coffee from her sister. “It must have cost a lot.”
    “It did, but so what? Honestly, Vivi,” said Natalie as she flipped her long dark hair back over her shoulder, “your attitude toward money is so provincial sometimes.”
    That’s because I’ve had to count every penny, Vivi thought angrily, whereas you—
    She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. She should be grateful toward Natalie, not resentful. Still, it was hard. Natalie seemed to take her wealth and privilege for granted, whereas Vivi took nothing for granted. Perhaps she was being too touchy.
    “I told you before,” Natalie continued, motioning for Vivi to follow her into the plush living room, where a brand new white leather sofa dominated, “I don’t understand why you insist on living out in Brooklyn and not here with me. Think of the fun we’d have as roommates.” Natalie smiled fondly.
    Generous and playful one moment, critical the next—it was so hard to read Natalie sometimes. So hard not to envy her, as well. She was so beautiful and composed, where Vivi was excitable and, if she was being generous, average looking. At least, that’s how Vivi saw herself. It probably would be fun to live together. But