Outrun the Moon(32)

In the lobby, Elodie’s sails are as full as a clipper that has caught a fair wind. “We did it! Won’t Papa be surprised when he learns I’ve given him a present for my birthday?”

An unexpected rush of gratitude warms me. Because of her, may Chinatown be lifted one step higher in the world.

A quarter of an hour remains before William will fetch us. “Do you still need to visit Carmen?”

She looks at me for a moment, then laughs. “Carmen isn’t a person; it’s an opera. Papa was supposed to take Maman and me for my birthday.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I need you to wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here by myself.”

“This is the safest spot in Chinatown. No one will harm you.” With that, I push open the heavy doors, then jog a block to Clay Street.

I knock lightly on our unpainted door. “Ma?”

“Mercy?” a voice calls from the other side.

“Yes, it’s me.”

The ropes are untied, and soon Ma’s round face is peering at me. “You look like my daughter, but she lives on Nob Hill now.”

“Western Addition is hardly Nob Hill,” I say, even though I know she’s teasing. She looks smaller than I remember. She pats me on the back, and tears spring to my eyes. I haven’t made it past my first week, but it feels like a lifetime. How do those St. Clare’s girls handle not seeing their families for months?

“What are you doing here? Are you hungry?”

I’m famished, but I shake my head. “Just a school project.”

“So late?” She clicks her tongue. “Early risers find gold in their wash buckets.”

I don’t have time to tell her about the hearing. “I can’t stay. The driver’s waiting for me. How are you?”

“Same, same. We can wake Jack.” She reads my mind.

“No, let him rest. I just want to see him.” I crack open the bedroom door. The soft light casts a warm glow over the bed. Jack sleeps on his stomach, a white starfish in his long johns with his limbs spread out, like he’s suctioned to the bed.

He’s kicked the quilt that Ma stitched together from old silk ties off him, and I place it back on while Ma waits in the doorway. He sleeps with his mouth open. A little white bud has started to grow in the space where he lost a tooth. That’s new. I’ve already missed something.

My rice bowl lies on a crate table, filled with a teaspoon of grains already. I’ve missed you just as much, Jack. One day, it will be worth it. I promise.

I kiss his downy cheek and quietly steal away so my wakeful energy doesn’t affect his sleep.

Before I leave, I kiss Ma as well. “How is Ba?”

“He has been walking lighter lately. The Valencia Hotel is hiring his services. He’s already dropped some of his more bothersome customers.” Ba has a lot of those—clients who conveniently “forget” the handkerchiefs tucked into their pants so that he launders and irons them, usually without payment.

“That’s good news,” I say.

“Yes, your father is a good provider.” Her eyes fall away from me, as if she is holding something back.

“What?”

She doesn’t answer, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about her own death again. She shakes her head and smiles. “You look like a fine lady in this dress.”



On the way back to St. Clare’s, Elodie chats gaily about her impressive performance. My heart feels heavy despite our victory. I should not have stopped home. It has only made me miss my family more. I watch the paper lanterns between the streetlamps sway until they’re the size of fireflies.

Once back in our room, Elodie tosses her beaded bag onto her bed. “I had them eating out of my hand.” She slips off her ring and then her gloves. “They loved the product. Well, maybe not that old stick of a man, but I bet he wouldn’t know good chocolate if it pulled his chin hair.”

“Dr. Gunn is a respected elder. Do not talk that way about him.”

She looks up sharply, and the room temperature plummets. “It is a free country, and I can talk about anyone I choose, to anyone I choose.” She rakes her gaze over my uniform. “Even . . . Headmistress Grouch.”

She wouldn’t blow the whistle on me now, would she? A chill snakes through me. Monsieur now has what he wants—exclusive chocolate rights in Chinatown, and new workers to boot. Tom recorded those terms in the association’s minutes, but I have nothing to show Monsieur’s promise to me.

“Let’s be clear here. We are not friends.” Elodie paws a brush through her curls, watching me out of the corner of her eye. “We are only temporary business associates, nothing more.”

“Suits me fine.” I fumble with the buttons of my uniform, the smell of my own anxiety lifting off me.

“What was the name of that young man? Tom? He seems well-mannered and bright.” Her voice coats his name like cream on a cat’s tongue. “Mercy, are you blushing?”

“Certainly not.”

A smile lurks around her mouth. “I think Tom would make an excellent consultant for the Chinese workers, don’t you?”

In the history of ideas, that ranks up there with floating shoes. “Impossible. Tom will be our herbalist someday. He has no interest in business affairs.”