Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(19)

“The restaurant!”

“I hope you can cook like your grandmother. Come by and let me know when you open.”

“How are you doing? How is business?”

“Fine. Everything is fine!” He launched into an impromptu karaoke session. I didn’t think it was possible, but he was louder than the speakers. It was surprising he hadn’t gone completely deaf from years of this.

I tried to banish the urge to climb the counters behind him so I could shut the stereo off. “Do you have advice on running a business, Mr. Shen?”

“Yes! You need to turn a profit. If you don’t turn a profit, you fail,” he yelled as his reply.

And water was wet. His answer was perhaps a deflection since his own business didn’t seem to be thriving. I tried once more, hoping to gain any kind of opening by using what I had learned from eavesdropping on the brothers’ argument. “Any tips on how to invest in advertising?”

“Yes, icing on the cake is a good idea if you’re baking. You should also use sprinkles.”

“No, advertising!”

“No icing?”

I blew out my lips. “Can we speak outside?”

“I can’t leave the store.” He shook his head.

“How about—”

Two customers came through the doors, diverting Younger Shen’s attention. I nodded, waving goodbye. My ears rang as I escaped the herbal shop to the tune of Reba McEntire’s “Sweet Dreams.” My trip to the herbal store had been a complete failure, and I didn’t have the energy or the hearing capacity to make another attempt.

Sucking a deep breath of fresh air into my lungs, I turned my head toward the Chius’ convenience store. The slightly uphill street was empty and gray in the morning light. High-rises from the next block cast a shadow over the mismatched shops of the neighborhood. I had always liked how the unique architectural style of every building reminded me of an eclectic collection of books. The contrast gave it character.

A palpable silence flooded my ears, as if I’d been submerged in water. The failure of the businesses here permeated the air. No wonder no one lingered.

I hurried to my next destination in an effort to shake off the unsettling feeling.

The convenience store was crammed uncomfortably full of merchandise. When I was younger, I’d often imagined I was entering a house of cards, and I’d feared that if the couple added one more thing to any shelf, the entire place would surely collapse in on itself.

Mr. Chiu sat behind the counter, fixated on two screens: the grainy CCTV security monitor, and another television playing a kung fu film starring Donnie Yen.

“Hello, Natalie,” Mr. Chiu said, half turning away from his screens as I approached the counter. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. I wanted to thank you for being there for me at the funeral.”

“No problem, no problem,” he replied, returning his attention to the kung fu movie.

I cracked a weak smile. This conversation might end up being similar to the one I’d had with Younger Shen. There must be something that would tear the older man’s attention from the screens and get him to open up.

“Mr. Chiu?” I asked. “I was wondering, could I—”

The bell at the door jingled. I moved aside to make way for the incoming customer by hiding behind the narrower aisle.

“Wayne!” A sharp voice, one I recognized.

Mr. Chiu tore his eyes from his film and stared up at his wife. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“What are these extra charges?” Mrs. Chiu held up a folded sheet of paper. “You know we can’t afford it right now.”

I blushed. The Chius had always been one of the most solid couples in Chinatown. They had five children, and their business was a fixture in the neighborhood. Mr. Chiu still manned the store while Mrs. Chiu had a second job as an independent consultant for the multilevel marketing item du jour, which in the past had ranged from containers to scent dispensers to beauty and diet regimens. But now their relationship seemed to be faltering, if the anger in Mrs. Chiu’s voice was any indication.

The cracks in this neighborhood were also hidden behind closed doors, bolstered by pride and old-world stoicism. They were suffering, but would never ask for help.

I shouldn’t be here, but leaving now would out me as an eavesdropper.

“Why would you do this? We can’t afford to close the store for a weekend to go mess around in Lake Tahoe. Have you forgotten how old you are? Really, Wayne.”

“Bernard offered to watch the store for the weekend.”

“Our son has a family of his own. It’s selfish of you to ask him to do this,” Mrs. Chiu huffed.

“I haven’t spent time alone with you in so long. Anita, please. It’s only for three days. You’ve been working so much—”

“I’ve been working because we need the money. If it weren’t for my jobs, we’d have lost the business years ago. I’m doing this because you wanted to stay here.” Her shoulders sank and her voice softened. “I appreciate the gesture, but you should have asked me first. If you want to know what I want, then see if you can get a refund. I’ll be home late again tonight. Don’t wait up, you’ll need your rest for your shift tomorrow.”

She turned and left.

Mr. Chiu held up his hand as if it could have stopped his wife from leaving. He sighed and lowered his head. My heart ached for him. He loved his wife so much. Their marriage was suffering because the neighborhood was dying.