Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(68)

“I’ll be right over.” Click.

I returned the receiver to its cradle. Rats. Celia would be impressed at my fibbing ability, but horrified by the subject of the lie. I let Mr. Chiu into the apartment five minutes later. He’d come armed with traps.

“Where did you see them last?” His eyes darted to and fro, scanning the apartment, moving in a frenzy rivaling the action of the ball in an Olympic Ping-Pong match. “Kitchen? They always migrate to where there’s food.”

I made a vague motion toward the bottom cupboards.

Mr. Chiu lowered himself to all fours to check the baseboards. “The cat should have caught one. They’re really effective in keeping away rodents. My cousin in San Rafael is a cat breeder. He breeds those fluffy white pancake-faced types. Persians, I think they’re called. Your mother bought her cat from him.”

I smiled. Of course, it made sense that Ma-ma had done this.

There was another knock on the door. I excused myself and ran down the stairs to open it. Mrs. Chiu was waiting for me. The corners of her eyes were deepened with creases, her shoulders drooped, and she could barely handle her massive quilted tote.

“Celia told me you were in trouble. Something about misplacing the insurance papers?” Weariness permeated her voice.

“Uh, yes, I can’t remember where you said you left them. I’m sorry, Mrs. Chiu. I know you’re busy.”

“It’s all right, dear. After what you’ve been through, it’s natural to forget things.”

She followed me up the stairs.

I walked to the kitchen and pulled out the two chairs I’d set for the couple.

Mrs. Chiu dropped her purse when she saw her husband crawling on the floor on his hands and knees. “Wayne! What are you doing? Get up.”

Mr. Chiu bumped his head against the edge of the counter. “Anita, what are you doing here?”

I gave the couple my sternest glare. “Both of you, please sit.”

“There are no rats, are there?” Mr. Chiu asked, rubbing his head.

“No. Please, sit. All I’m asking for is a meal. You don’t need to talk.”

Mrs. Chiu sighed. She took the seat on the left. Her husband took the seat on the right. They avoided each other’s eyes and focused on their plates. I noted that, for a couple in disharmony, they still took their first bites at the same time.

I stood back, my heart in my throat, watching, waiting, hoping for a sign. If nothing out of the ordinary happened, everything I had done before this was for naught. And then, after the third bite, something happened, a most subtle change that would have gone undetected had I not been so vigilant.

A fine thread made of shimmering gold appeared, connecting the top of Mr. Chiu’s salt-and-pepper hair to Mrs. Chiu’s dark brown hair, then another connecting each of their shoulders, more and more of these nearly translucent threads materializing, encasing the couple in a beautiful display of a cat’s cradle. The couple was connected by strands of starlight, as lovely as any constellation in the night sky.

Once the food had disappeared off their plates, they both looked up, meeting each other’s eyes. Their mouths opened, but no sound came out, or none I could hear. I turned away to give them privacy. They were speaking and listening to each other, although silently.

The dish was working! I walked to the sofa and opened a magazine, skimming an article on the hidden beauty of Micronesia. I must have escaped through the pictures because I was startled when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Natalie?”

I snapped the periodical closed. “How was the meal?”

“Quite delicious,” Mrs. Chiu said.

The couple was holding hands, fingers intertwined, wedding rings glinting off their respective ring fingers. Mr. Chiu looked at his wife with the same longing I had seen when he’d confessed the situation of his marriage to me.

“We talked,” he said. “It was good.”

“Better than I hoped,” Mrs. Chiu added. “Not perfect, but it may get there again in time.”

“It will,” Mr. Chiu said before placing a kiss on his wife’s temple. “We both want it to. We decided to retire and spend more time with family.”

I smiled.

Perhaps I should have been more cautious, but I had no nagging doubts this time. My recipe had worked, and I couldn’t be more pleased. It was as if the Chius had shared their happiness with me. This must have been how Laolao felt when she helped others. A familiar shot of adrenaline coursed through me along with a thrumming sense of joy; an exhilarating jolt of vitality.

Yes, this was what had been missing from the previous botched attempts.

I still had to cook for one more person. I ushered the happy couple out of the apartment and readied the kitchen for the next round of cooking.

Older Shen’s predicament required me to think of not what was best for the neighborhood, but what was best for him. If he wanted to sell and leave, he should, but with eyes open to all consequences. The recipe for courage had unearthed a restless streak in him that could lead to unhappiness if untempered.





Minced Pork in Lettuce Cups


(Natalie’s Recipe)


Carrot

Ground pork

Mushroom soy sauce

White wine

Green peas

Mushrooms

Salt

Pepper