Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(63)

I swallowed before mustering a nod. Old Wu inspired fear, a remnant from my childhood that had never faded over time. But here he was, petting the cat and saying more to me this afternoon than he had during the span of my entire life.

“Misplaced anger is an old, bitter habit, one I am ashamed of having. I behaved terribly when you came back into town and when I invited you to the restaurant. I thought that if you were home, Miranda’s death could have been prevented. But I only blamed you because I could not blame myself.”

“You’re right. I should have been home. I blame myself for her death.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. Miranda’s death showed me how much I’d failed Qiao. When Miranda died, I was there when the ambulance came. All of us were shocked that she walked out of the building. I hadn’t seen her in years but knew she was still alive. Every week, someone in the neighborhood visited her, and as long as they did, I did not worry. She was still young. But it all changed that morning.”

Yes, my life also had changed that day, and I still didn’t know why my mother stepped outside.

“Since it is too late to help your mother, I want to help you. You are what your neighbors need. You said earlier that the recipes were going wrong, but now that I have tasted your cooking, I do not believe it is because you failed the execution of them. You mentioned the fate of the restaurant was tied to these recipes somehow?”

I told him about Miss Yu’s prophecy and its conditions.

“May I see the book?”

I placed the heavy book onto the table and pushed it toward him.

Old Wu marveled at the cover for a brief moment before flipping through the pages. He seemed to be searching for something specific, finally stopping at the spot where the three pages were missing. He gently pushed the opened book toward me.

I straightened the book before me. “Ah, you’ve seen the damage. I don’t know what was in these missing pages, but I am hoping you might. I think it could be related to what’s going wrong.”

“Miranda ripped these recipes out when Qiao told her she had to run the restaurant. They were special dishes she and her mother had cooked together. She burned them in defiance. Qiao told me about it years ago. She was very upset at the time. I agree with you: this represents a severing of harmony that must be the reason the recipes aren’t working as they should. If you can repair the book, I am certain the troubles with the neighbors will be solved.”

I was shocked. Ma-ma had burned the pages. Yet Ma-ma’s relationship with Laolao had been complicated. I had known this for years. Ma-ma’s delicate temperament would never have allowed her to run the restaurant. She must have been horrified when her mother insisted she follow the family line. The family business became the point of contention between them.

“I have confidence that you will solve the problem with your grandmother’s book, and once you do, the restaurant needs your attention. I will not stand in your way. Ye Ying, if you will allow it, I want to help you. You have the skill and passion to succeed.”

One of the most successful restaurateurs of Chinatown was offering me his aid. I would be a fool not to welcome his valuable advice. Hours ago, I’d thought I had lost everything, but now I had purpose again, a clear path to my goal, and support from the most unlikely of places. Faith rushed in from every direction, like water gushing from a broken dam.

“I can’t possibly accept such a generous offer,” I blurted.

Meimei mewed at me as though she was calling me an idiot.

Old Wu smiled. “I insist. This is something I can still do for Qiao. What I’m offering is a mentorship.”

No hesitation. This was a gift. “I’m honored to accept your help, Lao Wu,” I said. “Thank you.”

He set Meimei down and rose to his feet. “Then let us start now. Show me the kitchen that was damaged by the fire.”



* * *





    ?We headed downstairs to the restaurant. Inside, Old Wu conducted a thorough inspection of the damage, and we discussed our options while he took copious notes in a small notepad he kept in his back pocket. Now that he was not taking the role of antagonist, he proved to be quite the ally.

I slipped The Barber of Seville record into the Victrola and lowered the volume to ambient level. Old Wu walked to the counter and examined the ruined goddess. He reached out to touch her, but pulled back at the last moment.

“She was beautiful once,” he said. “Qiao had her displayed in the same spot. She was the symbol of prosperity in the neighborhood. I hope when you take over, we can see her restored.”

I blushed. “I wish for the same thing.”

“As for the kitchen, I am going to be honest with you,” he said. “I estimate the repairs will cost at least one hundred and twenty-five thousand. When you factor in new electrical, plumbing, and possible structural damage, updated appliances, and redesign for a more efficient space, it’s a reasonable figure.”

My heart sank. The bank would never loan me that much. I wiped my damp hands on my white skirt.

“Do not lose hope. I will give you the loan on three conditions: first, that we have a weekly meeting to discuss your progress; second, that you will cook me a meal once a month; and third, the full amount must be paid back in five years. The meetings will facilitate our mentorship, the meal will act as a trial run for the new dishes you want on the menu, and the last item will motivate you to succeed. A time frame shorter than that would be insurmountable, and a longer one would be more like a gift than a loan.” He leaned forward. “This is a means for you to make your own way, Ye Ying.”