Back to the Good Fortune Diner

by Vicki Essex

  “He’ll get over it,” Tiffany assured him, hiding her doubts beneath a pithy wave of her hand. “Dad’ll probably hire some guy fresh off the boat and adopt him to replace his firstborn son. I bet he’ll speak better Cantonese than you do, too.”

  “No doubt.” He laughed weakly.

  “So, know where you’re headed?”

  “I’ve always wanted to drive along the coast,” he mused. “If I’m lucky, I’ll end up in Florida before I get really homesick. I’ve always wanted to see Key West.”

  “Well, wherever you end up, make sure to email me. And do Mom and Dad a favor and call once in a while.”

  “So, now you’re taking care of them?”

  “One of us has to.” As rough as things had been, she couldn’t stand the thought of her family falling apart over Daniel’s departure.

  “Wait.” Loud footsteps banged across the wood porch and down the stairs, house slippers slapping across the paved driveway. Rose pushed a plastic bag into Daniel’s hands. “Map, compass and a GPS. Also, an emergency kit, flashlight and road map.”

  He peered dubiously into the bag. “Aren’t these Dad’s?”

  “He won’t miss them.” Rose stepped back, smiling tightly. “You be safe. Be careful. Don’t pick up hitchhikers, and make sure to lock your doors at night.”

  “I will, Mom.”

  “Okay.” She stood, hands clasped tightly. When she didn’t move toward him, Daniel sighed and hugged her. As if her hands and emotions had suddenly been unchained, she latched onto him tightly.

  “I won’t be away too long,” he promised.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” Her sob shocked Tiffany, and a pang of empathy echoed through her. She knew her mom would get over it eventually, though. It wasn’t as if they were saying goodbye forever.

  “Ah-Day,” Poh-poh said, pushing another plastic bag into his hands. “I steamed the last of the cha siu bow for you.”

  “Aw, I love barbecue pork buns.” Tiffany stuck her lip out at him. “Still the family favorite, obviously.”

  “You’ll have time to become the new favorite.” He clapped her on the shoulder then pulled her in for a half hug. She surprised them both by wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight.

  “Go on, before things get really mushy,” she said, giving him a light shove. “Drive safe.”

  “You, too.” He grinned lopsidedly, got into his car and drove off. Tiffany stood with her mother and grandmother and watched until the car turned the corner.

  “You all look stupid standing there staring.” Tony scowled from the porch.

  “Why didn’t you come to say goodbye?” her mom demanded.

  “What for? He’ll be back before the end of the week is up. He knows he belongs here.” He glared toward the end of the street where Daniel had turned, then made a pretense of looking at his watch. “Why are you still here? You should be opening the diner.”

  Rose snapped. She started in on him at the level of a shriek right there in the middle of the street. She berated him in a long string of throaty syllables, and he shouted back until the neighbors started peering out of their doors and windows.

  Tiffany stared longingly down the road, then at her feuding parents. Her grandmother was pleading with them to go inside, and was quickly dissolving into tears.

  Sudden, hot anger replaced her sadness.

  “Hey!” Tiffany’s shout silenced them momentarily. In very precise Cantonese, she said, “Save face and take it inside.”

  Hands trembling, she marched into the house.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SUMMER SCHOOL WAS DONE.

  Chris couldn’t believe six weeks had flown by already. Simon looked so excited to be out of school finally. He’d worked his ass off, with Tiffany at his side drilling him about the plots and characters of the books he’d studied, staying extra hours that didn’t add up on her time sheet.

  Chris hadn’t spent as much time with her since Simon had caught them at the house, but he knew that she’d been busy working at her parents’ diner. It was probably a good thing since he had so much work to catch up on himself.

  In the meantime, his son deserved a break. He wanted to reward Simon for his efforts, so he gave him a few days to himself—no chores except for the ones he did normally. Tiffany would start helping him brush up on his math skills after his hiatus. It would’ve been kinder to simply let Simon have the rest of the summer to himself, but then Tiffany wouldn’t have a reason to visit.

  She usually came to the farm between the lunch and dinner rush. Her parents had been fighting a lot since Daniel had left. Chris had heard rumors that passersby could hear pots and pans crashing around the place when there were no customers around. Tiffany wouldn’t confirm or deny the gossip. She simply gave him a tired, defeated look and shook her head. That she wouldn’t even talk about it worried him.

  Today, as he went to the barn to put away some tools, he was glad to see her fully restored Civic hatchback tucked into the driveway. Frank had done a superb job on it. Chris found her in the barn with Simon, chasing the kittens around the space and putting them inside a large box.

  “Hey, Dad.” Simon waved. Tiffany turned and smiled wanly.

  “We’re taking the kittens to the vet,” she said. “He said he’ll give them a quick checkup and make sure they’re okay for adoption.” She scooped up the black kitten she called Mack. “We’re gonna find them all good homes, aren’t we?”

  The kitten extended a paw and placed it on her nose, mewing. She buried her face into his belly fur. Her eyes grew moist. Chris’s heart ached.

  “Tiffany, if you want him—”

  “No.” She hugged the squirming bundle tight. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Really.” Resolved, she put the animal back into the box. Mack peered over the top, watching her with bright, hopeful blue eyes.

  Chris didn’t know why he felt so betrayed. It wasn’t as if she were abandoning him by the roadside.

  “Listen,” he said, drawing her away and returning to his purpose, “I have something to ask you. You got a minute?”

  They went out of the barn into the pale sunshine. A hazy layer of cloud was drifting in, and darker clouds hovered on the horizon. “I know this is short notice, but are you free next weekend?”

  She jammed her hands on her hips and kicked at the gravel. “As free as I am every weekend. With Daniel gone, it’s kind of impossible to get away from the diner.”

  He decided to ask anyway. “Remember I told you John Abrams is getting married in Las Vegas? That’s this Saturday. I know it’s late notice, but I was wondering if you wanted to come. I was going to bring Simon, but he hasn’t been keen about going. So, I have a plus one that needs filling, and I hoped you’d be it.”

  He hadn’t expected her eyebrows to knit together like that. Had he said something wrong?

  “I’d have to check with my parents...you know.” She toed the ground. “Also, money’s a little tight. Daniel helped me pay for my car, and I want to pay him back as quick as possible, just in case he needs the funds. I’ll have to see if I can pull some cash together. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure.” He’d pay for her plane ticket if that was the issue. He probably should have said that to start, but he didn’t want to sound desperate.

  He wasn’t. It was simply an offer—a nice getaway for them both after everything that had happened, and a reward for surviving a summer of tutoring his son. They both deserved the break and...well, he thought it would be nice to show her he could get away now and again. He wasn’t a workaholic.

  But then, maybe she was.

  * * *

  A WEDDING IN VEGAS. The words circled her brain as she ate dinner, her grandmother’s cooking sticking in her throat.

  It wasn’t as if Chris had asked her to get hitched in a quickie Elvis-chapel wedding, so why was she sweating bullets over the idea of going away with him?

  Because you know it’s not right. Not when you have
other things you should be focusing on.

  That must be it. Handling things at the diner should be a priority. She owed it to Daniel to make sure things went smoothly. After all, she’d been instrumental in her brother’s breakup with Selena, which had led to his departure. She had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

  Yeah, right, because you’ve felt so responsible for what’s happened here in the past.

  A lump formed in her gut. She’d avoided her family, disassociated herself from them as much as she could since she’d left home. She was only taking responsibility now because...well, because.

  That she was using her family as an excuse not to go to this wedding with Chris made her feel like a heel. A weekend away with him should have been a dream, but the idea unnerved her. Going out as a couple to a big public event like a wedding put expectations on her, made it look to everyone else as if they were together for the long haul. And she wasn’t good in big social gatherings. Inevitably, people would try to make conversation, ask how she and Chris had met, how long they’d been together, what their future plans were. And then they’d force her to try to catch the bouquet, which was the stupidest and most excruciating of wedding traditions in her opinion. Not everyone wanted to get married. And she knew if she hung out at the back of the crowd of single ladies, Chris would be hurt.

  She dutifully finished her bowl of rice. There was no reason for her to go all the way to Vegas for this event. She really couldn’t afford the trip, or a gift for the happy couple. Chris’s friend barely even knew her, and wasn’t it kind of rude to invite her last minute? Besides, flying to Vegas and staying in an oasis city would make her carbon footprint look like a Sasquatch’s. Surely Chris could appreciate that?

  Not that she could tell Chris any of these reasons. He would insist on paying her way, which she couldn’t allow. He would tell her his friend didn’t care. And he’d probably go vegetarian for a year to offset the environmental impact. She was inexplicably terrified he’d offer to do any of that for her.

  She cleaned up and gave her grandmother a hug. Poh-poh exclaimed, “What is this for? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Thank you for cooking for me. Your food is the best.”

  She waved her hand. “This is nothing. It’s easy to make. Not like what they make at the fancy restaurants.”

  “I missed your food when I was away,” Tiffany told her sincerely.

  Sunny turned her gaze up to her, smiling and shaking her head. “Moh gum hac hay.” No need to be so polite. “There wasn’t enough salt in the greens and I overcooked the beef.”

  Tiff smiled wryly. It was something she would never get used to, her family’s way of not saying “thank you” or “you’re welcome” to each other. “Still, I appreciate it.”

  “You want to say thank you, you come home and see me more,” Poh-poh said primly. “I know you don’t eat well enough on your own.”

  “But I’m learning so much from you now,” she said, and it was true. Helping with meal preparations had reminded her of all the tasty things her grandmother had cooked for her as a child. When she moved back to the city, she was going to have a whole new culinary repertoire to work with. Impulsively, she gave Sunny another hug. Poh-poh shook her off and told her to stop crushing her old bones.

  As Tiffany cleaned up in the kitchen, her mother walked in and handed her a slip of paper. “I found this by the phone. Poh-poh must have forgotten to mention you got a call.”

  On the piece of paper was a name, a phone number and the words Hot Dog Books. She puzzled over the message until her heart leaped into her throat. Poh-poh must have misheard the name Haute Docs Books, a small publishing house that had made its mark in the world by printing one of the most popular young adult series that year.

  She thanked her mother and hurried to her room. Haute Docs Books was in Jersey City, and she’d applied for an editorial assistant’s position at the start of the job hunt. It was one of the positions at the top of her list.

  It was past seven-thirty. She decided to call so that Caitlyn Beauchamp, the senior editor, would get her message first thing in the morning.

  She was surprised when a woman picked up, croaking, “Caitlyn speaking.”

  Her stomach pitched. “Hello, Ms. Beauchamp? This is Tiffany Cheung. You contacted me about the E.A. position. I’m sorry for calling so late. I just got your message now.”

  “Oh, not to worry. I was probably going to be here another two hours anyhow. It’s been so busy, these twelve-hour days are starting to become a regular thing.” She gave a short, nervous laugh. “I hope that doesn’t scare you off.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” she replied stoutly.

  Caitlyn’s laughter rose an octave. “That’s good to hear, ’cause there’s nothing but hard work to be done. Listen, I read over your résumé and I was hoping you’d come in for an interview.”

  Tiffany shot to her feet. “Yes, absolutely.”

  “There’s only one problem. I was wondering if you could come this weekend. I know it’s short notice, but there’s so much to do and I can hardly fit in time for these interviews during the week. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had to sleep here in my office to get it all done.” This time, her laughter sounded nearly hysterical. Tiffany laughed along with her anyhow. “So, if you’re available...”

  “Yes, absolutely, I can make it to New Jersey, no problem.”

  They set up an appointment, and when Tiff hung up, she danced on the spot and squealed.

  Relax, she told herself sternly, you don’t have the job yet.

  But she would get it, dammit. New Jersey wasn’t exactly where she’d pictured she’d end up, but it was a job in the field she’d trained for, and it would put her back on the road to success. Haute Docs was going to grow fast, and she was determined to grow with it.

  Tiffany upended the garbage bags of unpacked clothing in search of her good work clothes. She needed to get them cleaned and pressed right away. When she unearthed a bunch of pretty evening dresses, she remembered with a pang Chris’s invitation to Las Vegas. She couldn’t say no to the opportunity at Haute Docs. She’d have to turn him down.

  Was it wrong to feel relief and guilt at the same time?

  She picked up the phone.

  “Chris,” she greeted, a lump rolling heavily around her stomach. “Listen...I’m sorry, I can’t make it for the weekend....”

  “Of course,” he said quickly. “I should have asked earlier. I know your parents need you.”

  She held her tongue. There was no point in telling Chris about the interview. She might not get the position, after all. It would be senseless to prepare him for something that might not even happen. “Summer is a busy time for the diner,” she said. The lump in her gut got heftier. “But you’ll tell John congratulations?”

  “Of course. I’ll get to see you before I leave Saturday morning, though, right?”

  “Sure.” She decided to keep her mouth shut about the interview for now. She didn’t want him brooding over it while he was in Vegas. He deserved to have worry-free fun.

  Besides, he knew she’d never intended to stay, and they hadn’t talked about a future beyond the end of summer.

  Why should she spoil what time they had left together? He would understand. In fact, he should be happy for her.

  * * *

  CHRIS LUGGED HIS SUITCASE down the stairs, a little less enthusiastic about his upcoming weekend in Vegas since Tiffany had told him she had obligations at the diner. A getaway was exactly what he needed, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun without her.

  Simon was having breakfast at the dining-room table, reading George Orwell’s 1984—a gift from Tiffany. Clover sat by his feet, watching his cereal bowl slowly empty. “You sure you don’t want to come?” he asked his son. “Last chance to see the Strip until you turn twenty-one.”

  Simon looked up at him flatly. “No offense, Dad, but I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

  Chris chu
ckled. He didn’t want to admit that he was kind of dreading being alone at this event. Ever since his divorce, his buddies had been trying to set him up with a series of comely female acquaintances. In the same way that a teenage son would have held the marriage hounds at bay, Tiffany would have been a good shield to hide behind. But she was more than that. Much more.

  “Too bad Tiff couldn’t go with you.” Simon reached down and scratched the kitten’s chin.

  “She’s working at her parents’ while her brother’s out of town. It couldn’t be helped.”

  “Maybe I should go down to the diner and see if Mrs. Cheung wants to try me out for a few days.”

  “That’s a good idea. Tiff will be there, so she can help train you.” Chris had consented to Simon taking on a job as long as it didn’t interfere with his studies and he could get to and from work safely. He’d work no more than ten hours a week. He’d talked with the Cheungs about it, as well. Tony was open to the idea, but stressed he couldn’t pay more than minimum wage plus free meals. Rose had reassured him they would train him properly, too. They actually sounded quite excited about it.

  Chris also made it clear to Simon that if the Cheungs’ fighting made him uncomfortable, he had his permission to quit at any time. This part-time job was about learning and earning a little side money, not committing himself to a toxic environment.

  Simon grinned. “I’ll give Cindy a call and see when she can bring me down.”

  “All right.” He gave him a hug and slapped him on the back. “Take care of Grandpa while I’m away. Don’t let him feed you too much junk food. He shouldn’t be eating so much salt and fat.”

  “I’m not a child,” William barked from the kitchen.

  Chris went to the kitchen doorway. “Are you going to be okay for a few days?”

  He glared. “In my day, we didn’t leave the farm during the busiest time of year.”

  “I’m not missing John’s wedding, Dad.”

  His father dismissed him with a wave. “Go on, then. Abandon your responsibilities and have a grand old time in Vegas. You’re not leaving anything important behind.”