Lunar Love (68)

Votives and flowers decorate the tabletops, the light from the candles emanating a warm glow throughout the room. A portable dance floor is set up in front of a microphone stand, drum set, flute, saxophone, and piano keyboard.

Pó Po grips my arm as I lead her to her seat. Walking with us is Dad along with Grandma and Grandpa, who hold hands as they shuffle toward the tables.

“What do you think all this is about?” Dad asks us. “I don’t remember paying for a band.”

Pó Po gives us a mischievous smile. “It’s my surprise for Nina and Asher,” she says.

“Has Nina seen this yet?” I gesture toward the dance floor and look around for her, but she must not be here yet. “Didn’t she specifically not want dancing?”

“A wedding isn’t a wedding without dancing!” Pó Po says in an all-knowing tone. “She’ll like it.”

Asher’s family and ours split up so the families are intermingled at the tables. Bennett offers his arm as Pó Po lowers into her seat. We take our places next to her.

I thank the waiter and ask for a couple of glasses of water in Mandarin.

“I didn’t know you spoke Chinese,” Bennett says, looking impressed.

“Not fluently. A lifetime of Chinese classes and I can order water and ask what time it is,” I say with a sigh.

Bennett nods in understanding. “I’m not fluent, either, but I’ve tried to learn. It’s not easy to pick up or practice when everyone around you speaks English.”

“Yeah. We never spoke it at home growing up. My mom can speak Mandarin, but my dad doesn’t, so…” I trail off, reflecting on this particular shortcoming. “All the Chinese I heard at Lunar Love didn’t even soak in like I hoped it would. Sometimes I have the cruel realization that I’ll never know the language my own mother grew up speaking.”

Uncle Rupert and Aunt Vivienne claim spots between Bennett and Asher’s godparents at our table.

“Olivia! How are things at Lunar Love?” Aunt Vivienne asks. “I should introduce you to my sister’s husband’s cousin’s son. If anyone can work wonders, it’s you! Things are improving, I hope?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, knowing Bennett’s listening.

“Stop with all that! You’re going to make her a nervous rex before her speech!” Uncle Rupert, a paleontologist with a penchant for dinosaur puns, interjects with a sly grin.

Pó Po, who by now has heard every one of Uncle Rupert’s puns, looks genuinely charmed by his humor. He looks pleased as he arranges his chopsticks across the top of his plate.

Soft music plays overhead while we wait for the bride and groom to enter.

Pó Po must sense the way I clammed up. “I’m glad you’re both able to set aside your differences to be here,” she says bluntly.

I’m startled by the callout, and we both laugh nervously.

“Me too,” Bennett says agreeably, though I remain quiet. “How did Nina and Asher meet? Did you matchmake her?”

Pó Po waves her hand. “Goodness, no! Can you imagine?” she says, elbowing me gently in my side. “Three matchmakers in the family, and you’d think there’d be more compatible couples.” She makes air quotes around the word compatible. I’m distracted by where she learned to do that, and by her unexpected dismissal of compatibility that she’s been hinting at for weeks now.

“You know, in my matchmaking days in Taiwan,” she continues, “I paired people based on their zodiac animal sign, education, and family background. My focus was matching clients from families of equal social status. In the old days, matchmakers used to be a lot more esteemed. But now we have a different relationship with clients.”

Pó Po suddenly sounds like she’s feeling reminiscent, and while I normally love it, I don’t know how much of it Bennett would want to—or should—hear.

“Starting Lunar Love here, I dropped all the other details of matchmaking and focused on the zodiac. That was my interpretation of it. My way of modernizing it, I guess you could say. To keep it simple,” Pó Po explains. “Now matchmaking can include looking at assets, salary, profession, and even blood type.”

“Modernizing. Very interesting,” Bennett says, raising his eyebrows theatrically at me.

“In China, matchmakers can charge tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Pó Po says. “Lunar Love’s practically giving away our services! Maybe I should’ve stayed in Asia. I read that a man paid one and a half million dollars for a match. I’m sure it took a lot of time and effort for the matchmaker to sort through thousands of women, but with that price tag attached, I’d welcome the challenge.”

Bennett listens intently, focused on Pó Po and her stories.

“Is that even real?” I ask, suspiciously.

Pó Po clucks her tongue. “We could be making bonuses upwards of thirty thousand dollars.”

“Can you imagine?” Bennett asks, leaning forward.

“Maybe we should be charging even more than we do,” I say, even though I don’t feel this way. I’ve already considered restructuring the fees. Less exclusive, more inclusive. After all, if we want to attract a younger clientele, our prices can’t be as high as they are. When ZodiaCupid launches and offers free profiles with paid upgrades, how can we compete with their $9.99 per month? I tuck my hands under my thighs and focus on the candle’s flickering flame.