by Vivien Chien
“You really don’t have to get involved,” I told her.
“Nonsense, what are best friends for?”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Plus, I’m way sneakier than you are.” She smiled wickedly as she bit into her sandwich.
CHAPTER
12
The rest of the weekend I did regular-people things. Megan and I trampled around Home Depot conversing over paint swatches, which we never decided on. Eighteen different swatch cards followed us home.
On Sundays, my family normally meets for dim sum, but this week my mother cancelled, wanting to spend the day by herself, so Megan and I spent a lazy day around the house watching movies and entertaining ourselves with Kikko and her toys.
It was nice to have some time to do nothing and relax my mind, but I still found myself staring down the long face of Monday morning all too soon.
The November morning was crisp and frost had finally made its appearance. I was thankful there had yet to be any sightings of snow.
I went through my morning routine on autopilot, anxious for my meeting with Ian. As I moved effortlessly around the restaurant, straightening up table settings and adjusting chair placements, I chuckled to myself. It was odd how easily I had transitioned from office life to the service industry. At times, I felt like I’d never lived that life of business casual and two-hour meetings about nothing in particular. My time as a reporting analyst was kind of like a dream.
I thought back to that fateful meeting and it played out in my head like a montage for a new prime-time drama series. There I was sitting at an oak table among my colleagues. My boss was sitting across from me reviewing the reports I had just handed her with pride. Then, confusion and agitation appear on her face. Within seconds, the papers are in the air, sprinkling down like large confetti as she pounces up from her chair with her finger inches away from my nose. “What is this!” she shouts. “This isn’t what I asked you for at all!”
In this part of the montage, there’s no music or background noise, just a close-up of my face for added drama. Then I’m up from my padded office chair and speed-walking back to my cubicle where I start throwing personal items into my bag. I’m done. I’ve checked out. A girl can only take so much. While I’m packing up my desk, I imagine a hurried instrumental piece that synchronizes with my arm movements.
End with a flash-forward of me surrounded by a pile of bills. Maybe I blow a chunk of hair out my face as I read the “past due” stamp on the front of an envelope.
I’ve had much time to perfect the details of this persistent montage.
Since that time, I’ve thought about how things could have turned out differently if I hadn’t lost my cool. I mulled over this scenario along with a few others with Megan about eleven ways from Sunday, but who can really say? I couldn’t change the outcome and it was too late to go back. Really, I didn’t think I even wanted to. I was happy here. Sort of. Minus the whole alleged-murder thing and smelling like teriyaki every night. But what job didn’t have its ups and downs?
Lou rapped on the door and it broke my train of thought. Probably for the best. I let him in and he returned the favor with a cheesy smile.
“What’s that face for?” I asked.
“Nothing, you look different today.” He gave me a once-over and continued to grin. “You look nice.”
Okay, unintentionally, I had dressed up a bit for my meeting with Ian. Instead of throwing my hair up in a ponytail like I normally did for work, I had spent extra time on it and pinned it up with jade combs that my mother had gotten me for my last birthday. I also might have worn better shoes and thrown on a skirt for good measure. And some extra makeup might have accidentally gotten applied. Couldn’t a girl get a little dolled up for work now and then?
“So I don’t look nice otherwise?” I asked, a scowl forming on my face.
He chuckled and held up his hands. “I’m not getting caught in that trap,” he said as he hurried to the kitchen.
For a Monday morning we were pretty busy and I was starting to regret my choice of footwear. Platform wedges might have been a bit overboard considering I spent most of the day standing. It was only 11 A.M., and my feet were already killing me. I could kick myself for forgetting to bring an extra pair of shoes to work.
At eleven forty-five, minutes away from my meeting, the door chimes jingled and in walked Detective Trudeau. What perfect timing, I thought.
“Good morning, Miss … Lana,” he said. His voice was husky and I liked the way my name sounded when there weren’t accusations in the midst.
I kept my cool. “Detective Trudeau … to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I thought I should stop by and apologize for the way I acted the other night.” He looked away from me, glancing around the dining room. “It was uncalled-for. I realize now that you were just trying to be friendly.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “I accept your apology.”
His eyes slid back to me. “I also thought I’d have lunch while I’m here.”
“Are you sure you’re not worried we’ll try to poison you too?” My hand flew up to my mouth.
His eyes widened. “Really? I just came here to apologize and—”
“Lana!” my mother bellowed from behind me.
I jumped. “Mom! What?”
“It’s time to go. Do not be late and keep Ian waiting.”
I turned to face her and she stood there with her hands on her hips.
“Meeting with Ian?” Detective Trudeau looked from my mother and then back to me. “As in Ian Sung, the other property owner?”
“Yes, that Ian Sung,” I said.
“Interesting…” he said, sounding taken aback.
My mother looked at the detective, taking a minute to register who he was. As recognition dawned, she widened her smile and stepped in front of me, pushing me out of the way. “Detective, how can I help you?”
“I came to speak with your daughter and possibly have some lunch,” he said, straightening his back. He eyed me warily over my mother’s head.
My mother clapped her hands together. “I can help you with lunch. Let me take you to our best table.” She took a menu from the podium and grabbed the detective by his bicep.
I watched Detective Trudeau’s face fill with surprise. He looked at me and I shrugged. My mother was his problem now.
She started to pull him into the dining room. As they walked away, she glanced over her shoulder and nodded toward the door. That was my cue.
* * *
The Bamboo Lounge, the newest addition to Asia Village, was a hit from the day it opened its doors. Who didn’t love Chinese karaoke? Okay … I didn’t. But that’s beside the point. Everyone else did, which brought a lot of new business to the plaza.
As I reached for the bamboo-handled door, my eyes drifted toward the property office two storefronts over. Someone had died there, but we were conducting business as if nothing had happened. The only indication that something was amiss had been the crime scene tape guarding the door. They must have removed it sometime over the weekend, since now everything looked back to normal.
I shook the thought away and pulled on the door handle, realizing how heavy it was. Was it locked? Nope. I guess this was a good reminder to start working out with Megan.
The restaurant was empty except for the few employees who had come in early to prep for their late-lunch menu.
Ian sat at a two-seater booth near the window, staring out into the parking lot, deep in thought. His head turned as I neared the table. He was dressed as impeccably as he’d been the day I saw him at the salon, and I was relieved I’d decided to make myself a bit snazzy. Nothing worse than feeling like a hobo in front of an attractive male.
He stood up as I approached, and said, “Please, have a seat.”
I slid into the booth, thankful to be off my feet.
“I hope this is okay,” he said as I sat down. He looked around the empty restaurant. “Th
e office is still a mess and the community center has people coming in and out. Hardly a chance to have any privacy. It’s all I could come up with until I have the office just the way I like it.”
“I’m guessing the police took everything they need?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, shaking his head. “Although I don’t know how they made sense out of anything in that mess. Thomas wasn’t exactly a neat freak. Would you like something to drink?” Ian gestured to the teapot on the table. “I can get something stronger if you want. Or maybe you’d like to eat while we’re here?”
“Tea is fine.”
He flipped over the unused teacup in front of him and filled it up. As he eased the cup closer to my side, he studied me from across the table. A slight smile played on his lips. “I’m sorry to have been so elusive with you the other day about meeting with me. I know that salon is a hot spot for gossip.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m sure they’ve told the entire plaza you wanted to meet with me in private.”
He rested his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Perhaps it’s better to let their imaginations wander.”
I shimmied in my seat and focused on the teacup. “So, why exactly am I here?” I asked.
“I had a business proposition I wanted to discuss with you.” His tone was less playful and he straightened in his seat. “I’m planning on creating a board of directors to put together events for Asia Village and handle large community projects.”
“Does this mean you’re taking over the responsibilities of the plaza?”
He chuckled, more to himself than to me. “Sorry. I tend to get ahead of myself.” He nodded and leaned forward. “Mrs. Feng doesn’t feel that she’s the right person for the job. She’ll act as more of a silent partner … she’d still like to keep her hands in the jar, so to speak.”
“When was this announced?” I asked, confused at the fact that no one seemed to have mentioned something this important.
“It hasn’t been,” he replied. “Mrs. Feng would like to announce it during the memorial ceremony. There’s still some paperwork for her to fill out and she’s had a lot on her plate arranging all of the services. I don’t intend to rush her.”
“Ian…” I shifted in the booth. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
“This committee that I’m creating … I’d like for you to be a board member. I think having another fresh, young voice, like myself, who knows this plaza would benefit all of us.”
“Me? But I only started working at the restaurant full-time a few months ago. I’m sure someone like Kimmy Tran would be much better to help you…”
“No,” he responded firmly. “I’d like for it to be you. Besides, your parents have been with the plaza since the beginning. I have a feeling you know more about this plaza than you’re letting on.”
I sat in silence thinking over his proposal. “I’m not sure what to say…”
He laughed. “That’s easy—say yes. It would be a great opportunity for you. And, who knows, you may end up rubbing elbows with someone who could benefit you in the future.”
I glanced out the window. “But I’m not sure it’s something I could manage while working at my parents’ restaurant and they really need me right now.”
“It’ll be no problem. A majority of the time, our meetings would be in the evenings or on weekends,” he said matter-of-factly. “You have to remember, most of the people who will be on the board are already active members of the plaza. They’ll have the same time availability as you.”
“That’s true…” I murmured. I tried to think of another excuse to get out of this, but nothing came to mind except a flat-out “no” and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to take that as an answer.
“Lana, I have big plans for this place, and I’d like for you to be a part of them. I think we could work well together.”
“But you just met me,” I pointed out.
“Call it a hunch.” He folded his arms on the edge of the table and leaned toward me. “Trust me, we’ll get all the details worked out later. My goal right now is to get you on board with this.”
“I have to think about it … can I have some time?”
“Take all the time you need … well, for now anyway. Nothing is going to be set in motion until after the memorial service. Once Mrs. Feng puts me in charge, I’ll start setting everything up. I just wanted to give you a chance to be first on board.”
“Well, I appreciate that,” I said, giving him a lopsided grin. “I’ll let you know as soon as I decide.”
“Like I said, take your time.”
“So, no one else knows about this board of directors you’re putting together?” I asked, to clarify the point.
He leaned in. “Not even Mrs. Feng. I want all of this to be a surprise. With everything she has going on, I don’t want to bog her down with a lot of the particulars I have in mind. I think she will be pleasantly surprised to find out later how much thought I’ve put into this. I’ve been thinking about these ideas for a while now. It’ll be exciting to finally put them in motion.”
How long could he have been thinking about all these supposedly wonderful ideas? Mr. Feng had only passed away last week. “I feel odd keeping this from people,” I admitted. “Especially my mother. She’ll ask me why you wanted to see me and I don’t know what to tell her.”
He smiled. “I’ve already thought of that.”
“You have?”
“Yes, and you can tell her it was the second reason why I asked you to see me.”
“The second reason?”
He leaned in even farther over the table, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Have dinner with me.”
I blanched. The list of things I didn’t see coming was getting longer and longer.
* * *
It was close to one o’clock by the time I got back to the restaurant. I had stopped in the bathroom to collect myself and investigate just how red my face was … it was pretty red.
Ian had caught me off guard on both counts and I hadn’t been able to give him a definite answer to either question. He’d assured me that he could be patient. He struck me as the type of man who was confident he would get what he wanted.
I was most certainly not a patient person. And now the pit in my stomach left me with an inkling of suspicion. Ian was moving pretty fast with this whole “taking over the plaza” thing. I thought it was strange that he was coming up with all of these plans that Mrs. Feng didn’t even know about yet. What purpose could hiding that information from her serve? Wouldn’t it work more to his benefit to tell her about all the ideas he had?
I was lost in la-la land when I entered the restaurant and didn’t realize that both my mother and father were standing at the hostess booth staring at me expectantly.
“Dad…” I said, puzzled to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your old man?” he replied, coming out from behind the booth with his arms spread out. “Give me a hug, you little goober.”
He bear-hugged me and the air popped out of my lungs. “Dad, don’t call me that … it’s embarrassing.”
“Nonsense. You’ll always be my little goober.” He kept his hands on my shoulders and held me away from him, looking at me with a silly grin on his face. He tweaked my nose and winked.
I rolled my eyes. “Dad…”
“So … what happened?” my mother asked, wringing her hands. “What did he want?”
I shrugged, avoiding eye contact. My parents usually knew when I was lying. Especially my dad. “He just wanted to introduce himself.”
“What do you mean, that’s it?” My mother put her hands on her hips and frowned. “You have been gone since twelve o’clock.”
Before I could answer, Detective Trudeau walked up behind my parents. He looked relieved to see me. “Oh good, you’re back.”
“Lana, answer me,” my mother said, interrupting the detective. “What did he say?”
I huffed. “It’s nothing, Mom. He asked me out to dinner.”
“What?” all three asked in unison.
“It’s no big deal, don’t make it a thing.” I could feel the redness spreading in my cheeks.
“Oh, Lana.” My mother beamed, clapping her hands together. “This is good for you. You need a boyfriend so you’re not lonely anymore. Ian Sung is perfect for you.”
Detective Trudeau scoffed in the background.
“I thought you said you didn’t like—”
She waved her hand at me. “Forget about that. He will be an important man now. Maybe he will ask you to marry him and then you will own the plaza one day too.”
“Mom, that’s a little…”
My father laughed. “Now, now, Betty, don’t embarrass her in front of the nice detective.”
She clucked her tongue. “I am going to tell Esther right away. She will be so happy for you.” And she ran off toward the back room.
I sighed in frustration. “Dad…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle your mother.” He laughed and ran after her.
Detective Trudeau looked at me and raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “So, Ian Sung asked you out on a date, huh?”
I returned his question with a flat stare.
“If you ask me, the guy’s kind of a—”
“Ugh, let it go.” I moved behind the counter. “It’s not a big deal, and I’m probably going to say no anyway.”
“Why?” he asked with a smirk.
“Why do you care?” I folded my arms over my chest.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just curious, I guess.”
“How was your lunch?” I asked, changing the subject.
“It was good. I had hoped to talk with you more … but…” He looked at his watch. “I really have to be going.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by,” I said sarcastically.
“I just have one last question before I go.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked.
“Did I hear your dad call you ‘little goober’?”
* * *
By three o’clock, I started to crash and my feet were throbbing. I could feel my shoes getting smaller with each step. The excitement from earlier that day had drained me and I was ready to go home. The lunch rush was over and only a few stragglers meandered in, a table at a time. I sat at one of the front booths so I could keep an eye on the door. I tried to zone out and roll silverware into cloth napkins. It must have worked because when I looked up, Megan was staring down at me with her arms crossed.