“Dinner’s almost ready,” I tell her.
“Fantastic,” she says. “I’ll be over in a few. Just have to get Goldie settled. And my son is coming. You remember Adam, right? He stopped by today on his way back down south to Lethbridge.”
“I’m sure we’ll have more than enough,” I say, looking at Mama’s progress. She has Kitty at the wok now, stirring with a pair of chopsticks. “Kitty’s here for dinner too.”
“Lovely,” Alice says. “See you soon!”
“Alice is bringing her son,” I announce. Mama eyes the food on the go.
“We should have enough. Unless he still eats enough for two.”
Kitty laughs.
“As a teenager, he ate more than all of us,” I tell her.
“I had cousins like that,” Kitty says. “Two or three helpings each, and if you didn’t get enough on your first plate, you were out of luck.”
“Boys.” Mama shakes her head. “They are all the same.” She laughs. “But you ate a lot too when you were younger, Ming Nhon,” she tells me.
“I was growing,” I reply.
Kitty looks at me, puzzled.
“Ming Nhon is my Chinese name,” I explain. “Lucy is my English name. It was much easier for me at school that way.”
“Which do you prefer?” she asks, looking a bit confused.
“You can call me Lucy,” I reply. I like my English name on her lips, coming from her mouth, in her voice. I’d tell her that, but with Mama around, I’d best not. I’m pretty sure that Mama always understands more English than she lets on.
Kitty looks like she wants to ask me more, but we’re interrupted by the entry of Alice and her son Adam. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, far larger than anyone I’ve ever known, and far larger than his mother. Alice told me once that his father had also been a giant of a man, before he’d passed from a heart attack. She joked that Adam hadn’t gotten any of her genes. They come into the kitchen, Adam following behind her, towering over her. He’s dressed casually, his ever-present flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up. His forearms have scars from his work as a farrier, but he never seems to mind them showing. I have a few smaller ones myself from the welding, but I always hate people looking.
“Almost ready now,” Mama says as she and Kitty take care of things. I get down the plates, and Mama leaves Kitty at the wok and picks out chopsticks for everyone. I grab a few forks as well, just in case. Chopsticks sometimes don’t cut it when you’re hungry and just want to inhale your food before you pass out from starvation. I’m feeling a bit like that now.
“Who’s this new face?” Adam asks, holding out his hand to Kitty.
“Kitty Kerr,” she says, taking his hand.
“Adam Kinchloe,” he says.
“He looks like no relation,” Alice jokes as she slides into her usual place at the table, “but he really is.”
Adam grins. “How do you know all these lovely ladies, Kitty?”
“Through Lucy,” she says, her gaze moving to mine, a smile gracing her lips. Those lips that I’d just kissed a few hours ago. I have a hunger now, but it’s not just about food. “I bought her blackberries.”
Adam grins and raises an eyebrow at me. “Lucy’s blackberries get all the girls.”
“Oh, stop, you,” Alice says, lightly smacking his hip, the closest thing to her. “You can’t have all the girls.”
“Oh, I know.”
Adam pulls out a chair and settles in next to his mother.
“Long time no see,” I say. “You need to travel a little less.”
“A farrier’s work is never done,” Adam says with a chuckle. “But I’ll always come back for Mrs. Shen’s food.”
“Not mine?” Alice asks.
“Yours too, of course, Mom,” he replies. “But no one makes Chinese food like Mrs. Shen.”
My mouth is watering as Mama scoops the contents of the wok into a large serving bowl. It looks like a mix of vegetables, and I catch a whiff of teriyaki sauce. Kitty carries another bowl to the table, and it has my favorite again, Shanghai rice cakes. Mama knows it’s one of Alice’s favorites too. And Adam’s, helpfully. We might run out if Kitty takes a liking to it too.
Kitty slides into the seat next to me, and it’s a bit snug round the table with this many. Snug enough that her thigh presses against mine, and I certainly won’t complain. She sets the bowl down in front of me.
“Guests first,” I say.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Adam reaches over the table and snags the bowl, then scoops a generous portion. He hands it back to Kitty. “Take some now or forever hold your peace.”
Kitty laughs, and it’s a full laugh, one that, to me, rings like bells. “Thanks for the warning. I bet your mom spent most of her money feeding you, didn’t she?”
“You know it,” Alice retorts with a chuckle. “Now he gets to feed himself, mostly. It’s done wonders for my savings.”
“You eat your vegetables,” Mama says, setting the other bowl down by his elbow. She goes back to the counter and scoops rice out of the rice cooker and into a third bowl. This time, when she brings it back, she takes her seat. Adam helps himself to the vegetables and to the rice, and when he’s done, his plate is heaped. Fortunately, Mama always makes plenty.
I help myself to the vegetables and to a good portion of the rice cakes, and a smaller portion of the rice. Kitty has helped herself to everything, and I watch as she takes her first bite of the rice cakes.
“Oh my God,” she says, bringing her hand to her mouth as she chews. Her eyes close, like she’s savoring the bite. She opens her eyes. “That’s so good—I’m spoiled for anything else.”
“Good.” Mama grins. “Eat up, everyone.”
I start in on my food, but most of my attention is on Kitty.
* * *
I don’t want to move from my seat after dinner, and then when I half rise to offer to help with cleanup, Mrs. Shen shoos me back to my seat, so I lean back. I should have worn looser jeans. I had no idea I’d end up eating so well.
“I guarantee you’ll gain ten pounds,” Adam says, noticing my contentment. “The food here is amazing.”
I nod. Lucy rolls her eyes. “She’s gorgeous just as she is,” she says to Adam.
“Of course she is,” Adam replies. “So, Luce, how’s the project going? Have you showed it to Kitty?” He leans my way and lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “I taught her all she knows about welding.”
“You did not, you big liar,” Lucy says, snapping him with the tea towel she’s holding. “Dad did, and you just helped refine it later.”
Adam grins, his eyes twinkling. “That still gets you, even now. Good. So, how’s the project?”
“Going,” Lucy replies. I think of the scythes spread out with the plowshares. It still blows my mind. I can just picture it, but I know what I’m imagining will be nothing compared to the real thing when Lucy finishes the work.
“Show me later?” he asks.
“You’ll see it when it’s done,” she says, as if she’s said this to him a million times before.
“You never let me see it,” he fusses, though it’s still in jest. I’ve never met anyone whose demeanor is so jokey all the time.
“No one sees it until I’m done,” Lucy says. “That’s the rule.” She glances at me, and I get the message. Hush-hush.
I sit back, schooling my features as I might do at work. Lucy turns back to the dishes, drying as her mother washes. Alice flits around them, putting away dishes, wiping the counter. I get the impression that this is an everyday thing for the three of them.
“What do you do, Kitty?” Adam asks. It’s a question I’m used to getting—my parents’ friends always ask, the last girlfriend I had asked that first thing…I realize suddenly that it happens a lot. And always from people who are truly more interested in money than in who I am. Lucy never asked.
“Corporate law,” I reply. Short and to the point. Most people stop there. It’s rather dull in comparison
to criminal law, or even family law. Contracts and clients, not murderers or full-on Jerry Springer family meltdowns.
Adam nods. “Enjoy it?”
I nod back. “Yup.”
“Cool.”
“Tell me about being a farrier,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going. I have no doubt that it’s a far more interesting profession than mine. Just all those horses are more interesting.
“I travel a lot,” Adam said. “I trained in England, then ended up coming back here. I like it better than the UK. Less rain. Although sometimes I wish there wasn’t any snow. There’s always lots of work, though, so I can’t complain. Have you ever seen a farrier at work?”
I shake my head. “City girl,” I admit.
He launches into a quick rundown of the basics of being a farrier—shoeing horses, trimming their hooves—and how he learned about their physiology. “Nothing wrong with being a city slicker, though.”
“Now I know.” I feel a bit sheepish. There’s so much I don’t know about being on a farm. I’ll always be a city slicker.
Lucy plops down at the table next to me. “Don’t make her feel bad,” she says to Adam. “I didn’t know what a farrier was either.”
Adam shrugs. “Just being educational.”
Alice comes over to the table and gives Adam a gentle punch on the arm. “You’re talking too much.” It’s Adam’s turn to look sheepish.
“Can’t help myself.” He stands. “I’ll leave you ladies to gab, and I’ll go take care of the chores before I turn in. Have to be on the road early tomorrow.” He smiles at me, then hugs his mother and bends to kiss Mrs. Shen’s cheek. “Fantastic supper, Mrs. Shen,” he says. “And great to meet you, Kitty. See you around.”
Alice walks him out, then returns.
“That boy. Always looking to show off.” She shakes her head, but I can see that she’s amused.
Lucy glances at me. “Mama, I’m going to show Kitty around the house.”
“Okay.” Lucy’s mom is putting a kettle on the stove. “Do you want tea?”
“We’ll make some later,” Lucy says, rising. I rise with her. We leave the great room and kitchen, and Lucy takes me to the foot of the stairs.
“This feels like I’m back in school,” I whisper. “Can we go up to your room and play dolls?”
Lucy laughs and takes my hand. “I wasn’t thinking about dolls, but I might have a couple you can look at. Anyway, I just wanted some more time. I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
Lucy tugs on my hand and gets me up the stairs in a quick jog. There’s a long landing at the top and an older wooden rail of carved spindles. Along the wall are a series of bookcases, all stuffed full. I stop in my tracks. I’ve never been able to pass by a bookshelf. It used to irritate the heck out of my mother, who would be embarrassed when I’d go through the bookshelves of all her friends and all our relatives. I found some interesting books that way. And it was something to do while the grownups talked.
Lucy tugs on my hand but I don’t move. She turns back. “What is it?”
“I just have to look.”
“Oh.” She smiles and releases my hand. “Go ahead. I have a hard time not stopping too. But I warn you, at least half of them are in Chinese.”
That doesn’t deter me in the least. I skim my gaze over the top shelf, walking slowly along the line as I do. There are some paperbacks, familiar titles popping out now and then, mysteries and thrillers. Lucy has crouched down by one bookcase and has pulled out a larger paperback book covered in a dull plastic. I’m curious, but there are more books to look at. I pull out one that seems different; it’s hardcover and looks old, no writing apparent on the wide spine. I flip it open, and Chinese characters look up at me. I replace the book and continue on. There are a few romance novels tucked at the end of one row, and I pull those out. They’re not titles or authors I know, not that I get much time to read for pleasure these days, but I take a look.
“I think you’ll like this one,” Lucy says. I replace the books and turn. She’s holding the book with the plastic cover.
“What is it?” The light’s a bit dim up here and it glints off the plastic, obscuring the cover.
“Come on, let’s go relax, and I’ll show you.”
I follow her down the hall to a closed door. She turns the knob. “It’s not the tidiest up here,” she says. “Just to warn you.”
“I don’t mind.” I really don’t. I’m feeling almost completely relaxed, and more at home than I’ve felt anywhere aside from my own apartment.
Lucy flicks on the light and I follow her into her room. It’s of a good size, though it’s under the eaves, so the ceiling slants on both sides, down to a half wall. The wallpaper is a delicate rose pattern on white, and there’s hardwood flooring, though it’s mostly covered by a large worn rug with oriental patterning. Under the eaves on one side is her bed, with a brass frame, covered in a mixed pile of quilts, with multiple pillows plumped at one end. She has a long set of bureau drawers under the other side of the eaves, and I spot a small door that must be a closet. Clean laundry is folded and resting on top of the drawers, piled high. And in the other free spaces along the wall, there are stacks of books. One stack looks to be all about farming, another about animals, and more are various kinds of fiction.
Lucy toes off her shoes and pushes them aside. “Make yourself at home.”
I already am. She might think it’s messy, but to me, this space is cozy, and the bed is inviting and looks incredibly soft. The clutter makes it feel lived in, real. It’s rather like how I’d pictured my own room as a child, my dream room. There’s even a small lamp clipped to the bed frame. I toe off my shoes and join Lucy as she sits on the bed, scooting up to lean against the pillows. She turns on the lamp, and now I can see the cover of the book she’s holding: Chinese Cooking.
There’s a delectable stir-fry on the cover, and even though we’ve only just eaten, I feel hungry again already. Lucy pats the bed next to her. “Come on, come sit.” I put a knee on the bed and crawl up to her, turning to sit next to her, leaning against the pillows. I can feel the brass rails even through the pillows, but it’s not uncomfortable. Lucy shifts, aligning her legs with mine, and her elbow brushes my side. She opens the book.
“I learned to cook with this one,” she said, “and Mama brought this one with her when she came from China.” She flips to the copyright page. It’s in English and Chinese. “Or she had it sent over. Anyway, this book is a gold mine.”
We flip through, and she pauses on a page that has a recipe for simmered fish halves. “This is one of the first ones I learned,” she says. “My dad told me that his family used to make it all the time because you could find the ingredients locally, even when Chinese food was really unusual.”
“It looks delicious.” And it did. Fish, garlic, soy sauce, ginger, green onion.
“My great-grandmother would make it with rainbow trout, because the rivers here have the species. It was popular at the restaurant.”
“Restaurant?”
Lucy smiles. “Family business, or at least it was. Every small town used to have a Chinese-Western restaurant, and part of my dad’s family, the Chinese part, were the owners here. The building is still in town, but it’s not a Chinese restaurant anymore.”
“So you have chefs in your family.” I wish I knew that much about my family, that they did something interesting, but my parents had never really been forthcoming. Just being here, I’ve seen such a difference. It’s not that my parents weren’t around—they were—but they spent a lot of time working, and less time doing family things.
“More than a few cooks,” Lucy says, “though a lot of it was by necessity. It was either that or a laundry, and I’m pretty sure a restaurant is not as difficult.”
She flips the page. “Stir-fry shrimp with vegetables. Another fairly easy dish, although there’s a lot of prep work. It’s quick. Mama makes this one a lot.”
“You’re making me
hungry,” I admit.
“Me too,” Lucy says. She puts an arm over my shoulder. “We could go raid the fridge.”
“I can wait a bit.” It’s too nice, sitting here with Lucy.
“After they’ve gone to bed,” Lucy says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hopefully Adam doesn’t come back and take all the leftovers with him.”
“He’d do that?”
Lucy chuckles. “Not so much anymore, but when he was a teenager? All the time. Mama used to scold him, say that she wasn’t a restaurant.”
“Her food is good enough for one, better even,” I remark. “I wish I had her skill.”
“You kept up with her in there tonight,” Lucy says. “You’re no slouch.”
“It’s just been so long.” My fingers itch to be back there, to be cutting and dicing and watching my creations come to fruition. My university days had been the time for that. I’d get home, after school and cooking at the restaurant, and I’d want to cook some more, experimenting with so many different foods. Sometimes I think I really should have become a chef, but it was too late even then. I was already in school for law, and I didn’t want to waste my parents’ money by dropping out. But oh, the food. I miss it. These days, it’s mostly takeout. Lots of great places in the city, but even the most delicious takeout starts to pale when that’s all you’re having.
“What’s stopping you?” Lucy asks.
“Work,” I admit. As if to prove my point, my phone buzzes. Out of habit, I check it. Emails from the boss about Monday and our new client. I sigh. For a few hours, I’d almost completely forgotten about work.
Lucy takes my phone from my hand, places it on the nightstand. “Work can wait, can’t it?”
“For now.”
“Good.” Lucy cups my chin, angles my head. Our gazes meet, and work is the last thing on my mind.
Chapter Nine
When Kitty talks about work, she seems to shut down, to pull back. She’s the Kitty I first met, on her phone, her attention focused. It’d taken a blackberry to snap her out of it, but I don’t have any blackberries right now, at least not with me. But I might be a perfect substitute. I want to see the happy Kitty, the relaxed Kitty. I’ve only known her a little while, but that Kitty seems to me to be her natural self.
City Kitty and Country Mouse Page 6