Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(22)

“Excuse me,” a deep voice called from the entrance. “Are you open?”

I almost dropped the tray. A stranger stood at the doorway. Judging by his leather messenger bag, lanyard, and hipster glasses, he had come from Silicon Valley. There was something adorably askew about him: odd locks stuck out from the gelled ink black mass of his hair, smudges graced the corners of his glasses, a missing button winked from the top of his shirt, and mismatched socks appeared between the bottoms of his pant legs and his shoes. Anyone would find him appealing, but for me, his glasses tipped the scales. Even the most beautiful man alive was much more attractive to me bespectacled. He was irresistible.

“I might be, but I don’t have Wi-Fi,” I replied. These IT types always wanted that.

“I came for the dumplings. I’ve been following the smell from Mission Street.”

“You walked all the way from there?”

“They smelled really good.” He glanced up at the chalkboard. “Are you Qiao then? Of Qiao’s Cafe?”

On a lark, I had written my grandmother’s name there this morning. “No, that was my grandmother.”

“Please tell me you still have some dumplings left. I’m dying to try them.”

Delivering the dumplings to Celia could wait a little longer. My first unofficial customer was here. His ID card, with matching picture, read Daniel Lee.

Daniel took a seat at the counter, slinging his messenger bag onto the stool beside him. An irresistible aroma of roasted coffee, dark chocolate, and a hint of spearmint clung to him. Though we were around the same age, there was something old about him, as if he had a secret arcane hobby such as stamp collecting.

“Do you work nearby?” I asked.

“At a small start-up on Mission Street. Health-care based.” White earbuds peeked from his collar as he leaned forward to inhale the dumplings I placed before him.

I resisted the urge to lean my elbows on the counter and observe him like a zoo animal. He was transfixed by the dumplings, examining each one as if it were a jewel, and sniffing, monopolizing the aroma for himself. He licked his lips.

Eating was a selfish act, and sometimes one requiring privacy. True consumption was carnal.

My skin flushed, broiling like a sizzling strip loin on the grill. As the flames licked higher, my blood felt hotter than the Egyptian sun.

I fanned myself before reaching inside the fridge under the counter for a can of soda. As I hastily guzzled the cool beverage, some of the clear liquid dripped down my chin and onto the neckline of my white cotton tank dress.

Daniel’s eyes, however, were directed at his plate of rapidly disappearing dumplings, and so he didn’t notice my mess. If I hadn’t known his occupation, I would have thought he was a professional competitive eater.

“That was delicious,” he declared, patting his flat belly.

The squeaky-clean platter proved his veracity. “I suppose it must have been. You don’t have a girlfriend cooking for you at home?” My question was brazen, but at least if there was someone else in his life, I would know now, and the sting from it would be more fleeting.

“No, I don’t, and this is better than anything I’ve eaten in ages. This must be the first time I’ve been in Chinatown since I was in college.” He grinned. “Cheap and greasy food was the motto back then, but this . . . It’s transcendent. You have a gift. I can’t wait to see what else you cook.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the revelation that he was single.

Daniel tilted his head and stared at the goddess statue, examining her from every angle.

His scrutiny made me self-conscious, as though he were critically examining my flaws instead of the statue’s. “I mean to repair her, but with the preparation for the restaurant, there hasn’t been time.”

“This kind of deterioration is more than oxidation,” he said. “But even though she’s in pretty bad shape, I think she can recover from this.”

“The damage is pretty extensive.”

“Yes, but there is always hope. Underneath all this is something beautiful. It just needs time and patience to come out.”

Our gazes met.

One of his gadgets beeped. Then another and another, like a string of Christmas lights coming to life. He smiled and pressed a button, shutting everything off. “I was stuck trying to fix the bug in this code for a week, and now I think I finally know what I need to do to resolve it. This is a good day.” He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the counter. “Thank you for the meal. Please keep the change.”

Daniel Lee waved goodbye and vanished down the street, humming an unfamiliar jazz tune.

The paper portrait of Ulysses S. Grant stared back at me from the counter. I picked up the fifty and placed it into the empty till of the cash register. The close of the drawer followed the satisfying ring of the sale. Daniel’s enthusiastic response had just elevated my confidence in my cooking abilities. This was what it would be like to run my own restaurant. Satisfaction warmed me from within.

He ate all the dumplings. Celia would have to wait until I made another fresh batch.

I blushed, remembering my heated reaction to Daniel. What had happened to me? It must have been him or the dumplings. Watching him eat had been akin to pornography, and I was never the amorous type.

In high school, I’d dreamed about traveling and seeing the world when the other girls mooned over boys. My first kiss had been clumsy. Winston Law was aiming for my lips and missed, slobbering all over my chin instead. Eleven-year-old Winston paved the way for a long string of mediocre companions: boyfriends would have been too generous a term.