Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(52)

One of the pendant lamps over the counter burst, burning out, but no one else noticed because the fireworks at the dinner table were more potent.

“Guang, Fai, calm down.” Miss Yu rose from her seat. “Please.”

She and Celia exchanged a glance and moved to the other side of the table, where the Shen brothers stood. Each woman chose a brother: Celia stood with Younger Shen and Miss Yu with Older Shen. As the women tried to calm them down, I managed the Chius, who were still fighting at the other end of the table.

Mrs. Chiu wagged a fork as if it were an extension of her finger. “You never listen to me. You only do whatever you want. What about what I want or what our family wants?”

“I want what our family wants. Don’t you think the boys deserve to inherit the business?” Mr. Chiu asked.

“There. Is. No. More. Money.” She threw her fork down. Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was ragged. “You cling to the past like a ghost. We have to sell the business while we can still start over. If we do it now like Ms. Minnows says, we can retire well. There is no shame in this. Put aside your pride for once and—”

They were going to sell, like Older Shen had planned. How long until the others considered the same course of action too? The neighborhood was coming apart at the seams. I did this. I was the one holding the scissors.

Mr. Chiu stood up. “We’re not moving. My family has been here for generations. I will not be the one to walk away. This is where we belong. I’m making the sacrifices to ensure the business stays alive.”

Another bulb shattered. The glass burst into a fiery shower before turning into powdery ash when it landed on the counter. Once more, no one noticed but me.

How had I ever thought that cooking again would fix everything?

“What about my sacrifices?” Anita asked. “Why do you think I’m working four to five jobs? To keep your precious store afloat! I haven’t seen my family in years! It’s clear to me that you’ve made your choice. You don’t love me as much as you claim to. I want a divorce, Wayne.”

I winced. “I . . .”

My apology died on my lips, for words couldn’t fix what had been broken.

Mr. Chiu looked into his wife’s tearful eyes. “I love you, but if that’s what you want, you can have it.”

Mrs. Chiu closed her eyes. All of the bluster and anger left her as she pulled back, withdrawing.

Her husband turned to me and bowed his head. “This was a lovely meal. I’m sorry, Natalie, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.”

I could do nothing but nod. What else could I say? Asking him to stay would be selfish and unnecessary. The damage had been done.

Mrs. Chiu opened her eyes and turned to me. “This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. We’ve been trying for years to make it work.” She grabbed her heavy, cherry satchel and turned on her heel, following her husband out the door.

“You always think you know better than me,” Older Shen yelled. His index finger sank into his brother’s chest as his other arm was held back by Miss Yu. “You never respected me, so why should I listen to you? You should heed my words because I’m the eldest.”

“Like that matters. You’re selling because it’s the easy way out. For years, you let your business die instead of doing anything to change it. Now you’re selling the carcass. You have no—”

Older Shen, though tethered by Miss Yu and restricted by his crutches, swung and connected with a forceful right hook to his brother’s jaw. Celia’s screams were muffled by yet another bulb shattering from the suspended pendant lamps. Younger Shen rubbed his jaw as his face mottled into the ruddy shade of a steamed Dungeness crab. His large hands balled into fists.

Miss Yu stepped between them, her hands pushing both men apart. “Please, gentlemen. No violence.”

Younger Shen swung his meaty fist and connected, but not with its intended target.

Miss Yu crumpled to the floor. Older Shen managed to catch her in time. Celia sobbed, dropping to her knees. She cradled Miss Yu’s head on her lap while Younger Shen hovered nearby with his hand covering his mouth.

I ran to the counter, fetched the phone from my purse, and dialed 911. The final bulb burst overhead, plunging the restaurant into darkness.





Chapter Nineteen





The day after the disaster, I returned to my futile study of Laolao’s book. Every recipe specified what could happen if ingredients were adjusted, but there was nothing about potential disasters. As I flipped back and forth, I kept returning to the ragged edges of the three missing pages. What did they contain?

Since each page was written with such care, the ripped pages appeared like scars. If only what remained contained a hint of a letter or even a word, then I could guess what might have been written on them. I ran my fingertips along the edges, wishing.

My stomach rumbled. I had not eaten breakfast or lunch yet. Too tired to cook, I called my favorite Vietnamese place. I typically thought ordering in was lazy, but last night’s dinner was still fresh in my memory, and I didn’t know if I could trust my own cooking anymore. I needed a break. When my order arrived, I locked up the restaurant and ran upstairs to gorge.

I laid my feast out on the kitchen table. Draped over beds of jasmine rice, thin pork chops seasoned with lemongrass showcased charred stripes from the grill. Cold summer rolls with translucent rice paper glimmered with riotous colors from the mint leaves, vermicelli, and shrimp filling. Emerald coriander leaves peeked out amid slices of barbecued pork, in golden, crusty baguette sandwiches called banh mi. I placed a few pieces of the pork onto a plate for the cat. I bit into the cold rolls first. The thin wrapper yielded to my teeth, giving way to the crunchy pickled vegetables and plump shrimp underneath. The mint leaf inside complemented the sweet sauce with crushed peanuts. The two small rolls vanished into my belly.