Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(56)

“It didn’t take everything. You’re still here. That’s all that matters.”

“Is it?” I asked. “I can’t go through with opening the restaurant now.”

“You’ll find a way. There’s always another solution—”

“No.” Only hours ago, I had watched Laolao’s picture burn along with her recipe book. There was no changing that. And as for the damage, I had no funds. I’d already cleaned out my bank account paying for the various permit and license applications. The fire had taken everything—including my will to fight.

I pushed him away. “This isn’t some sort of coding bug. This is my life and it can’t be fixed.”

Daniel raised his hands. “I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, but you can survive this. Don’t give up.”

I backed up against a wooden stool. My fingernails dug into the wood. “One of my neighbors told me recently that surviving isn’t the same as living. There is no pride in that. I can’t recover from this.”

“If it’s money you need, there are resources. You may not remember all of your grandmother’s recipes, but you can create your own dishes. You are a talented cook. Isn’t that the foundation of any successful restaurant?”

“You’re not listening to me.” The stool under my hands shifted, the wood splintering in the tiniest webs; not from the strength in my grip, but from the anger radiating inside me. The destruction of the kitchen, Laolao’s burnt book, losing my only photograph of her, and my failure to achieve my dream swirled together, fueling a fiery anger I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He continued, “You can start over. It doesn’t have to be here. Being a chef is a portable skill; you can work anywhere. I’ve tasted your cooking—any kitchen would be lucky to have you. You could do that for a while to save up until this place is ready to go again.”

“No. I should have listened to my mother and found a different dream to chase. And now she’s dead. Laolao’s dead. And the restaurant is dead.”

The world spun around me, whirling on its axis, vomiting its contents. The seat of the stool splintered, cracking in half, causing me to stumble back. Wooden shards littered the floor like tiny daggers with each sharp end pointing toward Daniel.

“You’re still here. You are the agent of your own fate. It doesn’t look like it now, but all is not lost,” he said. His dark eyes focused on mine, pleading for me to reconsider.

He still wasn’t listening to me.

The rest of the stool shattered with a thunderous crack. The legs and seat exploded in a mass of long needles on the floor. He jumped out of the way just in time. Wooden arrows arranged by invisible hands, interlocking in an intricate fanlike pattern, all pointed to where he stood. I lowered my chin, spent from the release of my anger. “No, Daniel, I’m leaving. There’s nothing left for me here.”

“Nothing?” His hands clenched. “So you’ll run away? Because it’s so much easier? I thought you were better than that.”

“This is what I’m good at. I screw up, then I leave. And that’s what I’m going to do now.”

Daniel flinched and then stared at me with a gaze that seemed to me like a final goodbye. It was how I must have looked when I’d left Ma-ma for my travels.

“When you’re finished flying away from your problems, you know where to find me,” he declared before taking his leave.

I let him go. Time and distance were the cure for any pain. And he would forget. The girl in white would fade from his memory, like a dream leaving fleeting impressions.

I glanced at the devastation in the kitchen. Seeing darkness claim the heart of the restaurant was causing me physical pain. I had transitioned from destroying lives to destroying property. If this wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was.

I approached the spot on the counter where I had left Laolao’s recipe book and her photograph. There was nothing here but darkness.

I wished I had brought them upstairs to keep them safe. I wished Ma-ma were still alive. I wished the recipes had worked the way they should have. I wished I’d never meddled with things I had no business involving myself in. So many wishes. My mother had once told me, “Wishes are worth nothing because there’s so many of them. If they turned into stars, there would be no sky left.”

I couldn’t stand the sight of the wreckage any longer. I picked up Meimei and headed upstairs.

I was entropy’s handmaiden, bringing destruction to every life I touched. Although it was Younger Shen who’d thrown the punch, Miss Yu was in the hospital with a concussion because of me. Wayne Chiu, Anita Chiu, Older Shen, Younger Shen, Celia, Daniel, and even Ma-ma. I ruined lives—who was to say I wouldn’t have made Ma-ma’s worse if I’d stayed all those years ago?

Her letter still sat on the counter. I returned it to its spot in the toaster slot. The image of Ma-ma placing it there was one I wanted to remember. My mother had written a letter before she died, used the toaster as a mailbox, and hoped it would deliver her message to me.

I tossed my purse onto the coffee table.

The cat rubbed herself against my leg, stopped, meowed, and stared up at me, waiting to be picked up.

“Oh, Meimei,” I said, clutching her to my chest. I carried her to the sofa, where I curled into the fetal position. Warm tears trickled down my cheeks, spilling onto the sofa cushion, crystallizing into sparkling teardrops. I gathered the crystals and deposited them into one of Ma-ma’s bowls. The cat nestled her head against my neck. Her purrs made me cry harder. This little creature still loved me despite my failures. “You don’t choose the ones you love, do you?” I asked the cat through my tears. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. I know you miss Ma-ma because I miss her, too, now more than ever.”