Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(9)

There were spikes under her immaculate veneer. We Chinese valued family far more than she realized. Even though she didn’t understand this, she’d made good points, and I was torn. This was all so sudden. But I’d been given a gift: Laolao’s restaurant. Would selling now be a disservice to my dream and to her?

“I’ll leave you my info.” Melody placed her business card in my hand. “Again, I’m really sorry about your mother. She was such a lovely lady.”

Melody let herself out. I doubted that this was the last I’d see of her. The woman was a shark drawn to the blood in the water—after all, the neighborhood was bleeding money. And if I reopened the restaurant, I would be as well. The mortgage on the building had been paid off in Ma-ma’s lifetime, but we’d been far from wealthy. Ma-ma had lived off some small investments, but there wasn’t much, and if she had managed to save anything, it’d be a modest sum at best. I didn’t expect a windfall; I only hoped it would at least be enough to cover the funeral expenses.

I locked the door and shut the lights off, gathered Meimei into my arms, headed up the stairs, and made the decision to contact Celia in the morning. Before I could decide about the restaurant, we needed to say goodbye to Ma-ma.



?Celia arrived the next morning in a navy silk frock with a black cat pattern. Her gardenia perfume drifted from her skin, and her cheerful smile matched her rosy cheeks. She exuded the effortless kindness reserved for saints and fairies.

“Thank you for coming,” I murmured. “Please come in.”

I stepped aside and followed her up the stairs. She took her kitten heels off at the landing, donned a pair of guest slippers, and headed to the living room. In the meantime, I offered to make a pot of jasmine tea.

After leaving the kettle on the stove to boil, I headed into the living room. Celia and the kitten were engaged in a standoff. Celia kept her distance at the farthest end of the sofa while Meimei occupied the high-backed chair. The kitten’s back was arched, and her little ears folded down as she hissed at Celia, who held her satchel as a shield.

“Meimei, don’t do that,” I chastised the cat. “That’s rude.”

“She hates everyone but Miranda,” Celia reasoned. “Although, judging from the lack of bandages on your arms, Meimei likes you too.”

I scooped the kitten into my arms and sat in the chair. Meimei stopped hissing, but kept one white ear cocked in Celia’s direction. I buried my fingers into the cat’s fur, scratching and massaging until I was rewarded with purrs. I had never had a cat before, and I could see why Meimei had brought Ma-ma such comfort and joy.

“When I was exploring the restaurant downstairs last night, I had a visitor,” I said. “Melody Minnows. She was asking if I wanted to sell.”

Celia rolled her eyes. “She’s been sniffing around the neighborhood for years. Our businesses are on life support. The blond reaper haunts our doors. I can’t really blame her for being enterprising—everyone has to make a living, right?—but these real estate people want to turn our neighborhood into office space and overpriced condos. The entire city has been gentrifying since the tech boom.”

This reaffirmed what Ma-ma had written in her letter about the state of the neighborhood and what I had seen for myself since I came back. “Has anyone decided to sell?”

“Of course not!” Celia frowned. “This is our community. We’re not going to be pushed out. That is our gate. Our families came here and lived here for generations. If your laolao were alive, she’d be fighting this classist eviction. If only her restaurant were still around, I don’t think business would have gotten so bad.” She paused and gathered herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this when there are more important things to deal with. What are your plans after the funeral?”

Celia’s eyes were still locked onto the cat in my arms, and her fingers were glued nervously to the handles on her purse. The street was struggling because these businesses were their lives, while I had the luxury of considering Melody’s offer. My grandmother would never have sold. She would have put up a fight like they were doing now. I never knew her but I realized now she’d have wanted me to take over.

“I’m considering reopening Laolao’s restaurant.”

Celia, who must have noticed that the cat had dozed off, relaxed her death grip on her purse. “Is that something you want to do?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I want to, but I’m nervous that I’ll fail.”

Celia offered me a smile of understanding. “When my parents died and left me the gift shop, I was anxious too. But running the store has given me a sense of comfort and security even though it’s been fairly tough the last five years. But I won’t trouble you with that. The important thing is that you want to try.” She waved her hand. “I know if your laolao were alive, she’d be happy that you’ve chosen this path.”

Celia was right. Laolao had been a great cook, and her legacy had been neglected, but now the chance to follow in her footsteps lay beneath my feet. Could I do this? I wished that Ma-ma were here to see me through this. I had so much regret for the years I lost when I should have reached out and spoken to her. I had chosen my ego over my own mother. We Chinese wore our guilt like jade: pressed against our skin, displayed with pride, and always inherited.