Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(58)

“What about your restaurant?” he asked.

My heart constricted. I shook my head, unable to speak.

“If this had happened to your grandmother, do you think it would have stopped her from running another?” The street musician didn’t wait for me to answer. “She came to this country without much. She only had herself and her skills. Her restaurant isn’t a physical building made of brick and mortar. It’s her heart and soul.”

He was right. Laolao would have found—made—another spot. It wasn’t where she cooked that was important; it mattered that she cooked.

“Cooking is your gift. You can’t ignore how well your food has been received. Do you fear that you are only able to cook from your grandmother’s book?”

“I cooked before I was given Laolao’s book. I’ve cooked my own dishes since,” I replied.

“Then the need to cook will continue to burn inside of you. If this is so, why give up on the restaurant?”

“Look around you. I don’t even want to know how much it will cost to fix,” I said, gesturing to the damage.

“It looks bad now, Xiao Niao, but it will all work out. I didn’t believe it could happen, but I have my wife back. Miracles can happen if you allow them to.” His smile lit his face, highlighting its handsome angles. “Perhaps if you take a closer look, you can see that there’s still hope in the most unlikely places.”

I walked to the burnt wreckage that was the kitchen. The darkness intimidated me. The memory of the angry flames devouring everything in sight was still fresh in my mind. There was a strange, dark lump on the counter. I moved closer and dragged my fingers across it, coating them with soot. When I pulled my hand away, a streak of brown appeared against the black. Odd. Using both hands now, I rubbed away the grime, channeling Ma-ma’s motions when she attacked her scratch-off lottery tickets. Something was emerging from the darkness . . .

My mouth fell open.

Laolao’s recipe book.

It should have been destroyed.

Yet the leather-bound book showed no signs of damage. It was as if it had been sitting on the coffee table upstairs instead of here. Traces of soot peppered the ornate grooves of the cover and the leather, but wiped off easily. My grandmother’s book had survived.

What did this mean?

I pulled the book against my chest, not caring that the last bits of soot stained my white sweater dress.

Everything else might have been lost, but at least I still had this.

This was a connection to my past.

Perhaps Mr. Kuk Wah was right: I really was meant to honor and follow Laolao’s legacy.

There was no other reason why the book would have survived. Laolao faced overwhelming obstacles and built a life for herself and her family here. She found her purpose. All my life, I had been searching for mine. Running a restaurant was what I always dreamed of and it had cost me years away from Ma-ma.

This was what I wanted.

If I gave up now, I would be left wondering about what could have been . . .

If only.

Twenty-eight years of if onlys.

This was enough.

My destiny was mine to shape.

Laolao’s book had survived this and so would I.

“This is a sign that you are meant to stay,” declared Mr. Kuk Wah.

“Yes, I think it is. You were right, and finding the book confirms it: I do need to stay and finish what I started. And now that I have the book back, I need to find out why the recipes aren’t working,” I said. “Once I do, I can start figuring out how to get financing to fix up the restaurant.”

“There must be something we have missed.” Mr. Kuk Wah nodded. “It is a shame you can’t ask your mother for help.”

“Yes, I’m sure that if Ma-ma were alive, she could shed some light on this. She knew Laolao the best.”

“So your days of running away are behind you after all?”

I didn’t want to be the person who ran away from people and from love. I wasn’t my father. His habit of abandonment was no longer mine. I wanted to be the person who wasn’t afraid to seize my dreams. I wanted to be the woman that Celia had called her friend and the one Daniel had believed in.

“Yes. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, it’s time for another woman in my family to cook for this neighborhood,” I replied.

After saying goodbye to Mr. Kuk Wah, I headed back up to the apartment. If Ma-ma were alive, I was certain she would know why her own mother’s recipes were backfiring. I missed her so much. I wanted nothing more than to eat one of her special peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on toast.

But before I could make one, I had someone to apologize to. I hugged the cat and told her I was sorry for almost leaving her before.

In response, Meimei licked my cheek. I took it as a sign of forgiveness.

But the cat wasn’t the only one I owed an apology to. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Daniel: I’m sorry.

I waited three minutes, then I left the phone on the coffee table in the living room. I didn’t expect him to respond after how I treated him, yet I still hoped he would. For now, fixing the neighbors’ issues and my friendship with Celia seemed more achievable.



* * *





?After I unpacked my suitcase, my stomach rumbled. The memory of Ma-ma’s peanut butter sandwiches burrowed in my mind, and my craving for them strengthened. I walked to the kitchen, took out the loaf of sliced bread from the fridge, and peered into the toaster. There was something in the other slot that I hadn’t noticed before: another sheet of crumpled paper. I fished it out and began reading.