Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune

by Roselle Lim

  “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know much about the restaurant business,” Celia confessed. “We can ask Old Wu. He’s part of the business association. I can arrange the meeting if you want. It will have to be at his restaurant because he’s so busy. You can make a good impression if you do this because of how traditional he is. He’ll appreciate what you’re doing and how good it would be for the neighborhood.”

  I wanted to say no, but, if I did, I would waste an important resource. I had no idea what I was about to do, and I needed help. After the explosive homecoming Old Wu had greeted me with, my reluctance in asking for his aid was natural. But I shouldn’t turn any potential help away. “Yes, please,” I said. “The worst he can do is say no.”

  Celia smiled. “He’ll say yes. He knows the problems in the neighborhood. He’ll want to help. For years, the business association has tried to reinvigorate our corner of Chinatown and fight off gentrification, but nothing’s worked. Your restaurant might be the key to it all.”

  Her belief in my abilities mirrored Daniel’s. I didn’t understand the source of their confidence.

  “Why do you believe in me so much?”

  “Because this is what you’re meant to do,” she replied. “You cook like your grandmother, which means you cook from your heart. Your food is so delicious because of how much care and joy you put into it. Don’t even think about dismissing the compliment. I’m an authority on eating food, and I know what I’m talking about.”

  Seeing how I looked in her eyes made me want to believe in that reflection. If only Ma-ma had told me something similar. I could have stayed home, gone to culinary school, and opened the restaurant with her blessing, staying close the whole time.

  “I’m not arguing,” I said.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d said they believed in me; so did the people Ma-ma tasked me to help, her neighbors. My neighbors too.

  * * *

  After coming home from Celia’s, I settled in to do some late-night research. Armed with a cup of oolong, I sat on the sofa with the laptop on the coffee table. The cat jumped onto the table and moved to the side of the screen, tracking the cursor, batting it with her paws, wondering why she couldn’t hold it down. “Do you think you can fill out the paperwork for me?” I asked her.

  She meowed and stuck her little pink tongue out.

  “Not even for catnip? I can get you one of those fish things stuffed with it. I hear cats find it very exciting.”

  I picked her up. The cat crawled out of my arms and climbed onto my chest. She placed a paw against my lips.

  “All right, no catnip. Dumplings then?”

  She purred.

  “You have the same taste as Daniel, little one.”

  Meimei tilted her head toward the printer. I sighed. “Let’s get back to work.”

  I sorted the forms I would be mailing out from those I needed to submit in person. I rechecked my to-do list to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I had: the neighborhood notification for the planning department in the city. I didn’t think much of it when I first read it since I doubted my neighbors would object. But now a fearsome thought entered my mind: Old Wu, although his restaurant didn’t face Grant Avenue, could still be classified as a neighbor. He could provide the opposition I dreaded when applying. Celia was planning to ask him to help me, but I feared instead he would only stand in my way.

  To banish bad thoughts about the old man, I immersed myself in the joys of research by checking out the websites of the restaurants in the area. I opened a notebook and began taking notes about pricing, common menu items, and hours of operation, and started a running tab of ideas of how to set myself apart from the competition.

  I went to bed with Meimei asleep on my belly. The dreams I had that night were of the restaurant and Daniel. He had said he was coming back tomorrow to ask me out. What should I cook for him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the morning, it came to me. I went down to the restaurant and cooked youtiao, my favorite treat. It wasn’t one of Laolao’s recipes, but a dish Ma-ma had served that never failed to bring me sprinkles of happiness. There was much to celebrate: Older Shen’s revitalization efforts for his bookstore, the Chius’ marriage, Celia’s upturn of luck, and my being closer to my goal, even though the nagging fear of Old Wu still weighed heavily on my mind.

  Hot oil bubbled in the wok as the pale, thin strips of dough took their plunge. My chopsticks snapped into action. I rolled the dough, spinning, turning the pieces so each side cooked evenly. Soon, the raw beige gave way to golden sunbursts, with each ray tipped in crisp light brown. They floated to the surface like wayward pool noodles only to be rescued by my intrepid chopsticks.

  I heaped three onto a plate to bring upstairs to the family shrine.

  I delivered the youtiao and sent a quick prayer to Ma-ma. Back downstairs in the restaurant, I resisted the urge to sit by the window until Daniel arrived, and distracted myself by leafing through my grandmother’s recipe book. I didn’t want to appear desperate despite the fact that I would be horribly disappointed if he didn’t show up.

  Yesterday, I was afraid he wouldn’t come too.

  How long would it be until he arrived?

  I busied myself by arranging and rearranging the fritters on a platter. Keeping an eye on the time on my phone, I managed to create seven different patterns with the long donut sticks with my trembling hands. Anticipation battled dread in the arena of my stomach.

  Finally, the tiny bell at the door rang. I peeked into the dining room to see that Daniel had walked in. I exhaled a long sigh of relief. He wore his telltale earbuds and the wide strap of his messenger bag over one shoulder. My heartbeat accelerated like a hummingbird seeking the nectar of a flower.

  “I haven’t had youtiao in a long time. That’s what I smell, isn’t it?” He grinned.

  I returned to the kitchen to gather the donut sticks, piling them onto a large oval plate. I poured him a glass of cold soybean milk to go along with the snack. I wanted to join him, but out of shyness I followed my usual protocol: unload the food on the counter, return to the kitchen to avoid gawking at him eating, and then come back to collect payment. However, despite my good intentions, I accidentally caught a glimpse of his first ecstatic bite. Heat blossomed from my neck and my collarbones, exposed above the white crocheted tank dress I was wearing. I reached into the fridge for the pitcher of ice water, downing it in a few gulps as the usual billows of steam rolled off my skin, puffing upward as if from the stack of a small locomotive. How could I go on a date with him without suffering a battery of embarrassing side effects?

  Pursuing a romance with Daniel presented more challenges than I’d previously imagined. My former boyfriends had never elicited anything more than a slight wobble in the stomach, replicated easily by eating questionable street fare. Even with Emilio, my longest relationship, I had never reacted this way. But I found myself nearly combusting as I watched Daniel eat—almost as if I were watching pornography. What was it about him that made me feel this way? What if he kissed me? Would I burst into flames?

  Maybe this time, I wouldn’t ruin my own relationship. This fear had caused me to run in the past, but I didn’t want to flee from Daniel. I wanted to find out what happened next.

  Yes, I was still scared. But I wanted to risk it.

  Daniel was finishing up as I walked back into the dining room.

  Was he leaving already? Had he forgotten about the date?

  “Come on.” He held out his hand.

  “What?”

  Daniel tilted his head toward the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  * * *

  I placed my hand in his. I was afraid the contact would result in an incendiary mishap, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. He had a warm, firm grip, banishing the memories of all the clammy, sweaty hands I had held in the past.

  W
e walked underneath the Dragon’s Gate and headed west along Bush Street.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  His brilliant smile showcased either perfect genes or an excellent orthodontist. “I want to take you to the heart.”

  He meant the heart in Union Square. In 2004, a heart sculpture had been displayed there to raise money for San Francisco General Hospital. It began with one and multiplied into many around the square and the city. It was one of the things I’d missed while away from home but kept up with online. Seeing a different artist paint multiple hearts every year brought me joy because I saw these sculptures as stand-ins for a real, physical heart—that the beauty within the rib cage could manifest in such riotous colors. I hadn’t seen them yet this year. How did Daniel know I cared so much about this place?

  Summer in San Francisco was comfortable compared to other places I had been. August in most countries above the equator was punishing, leaving residents in a viscous state between solid and liquid. But here, the breeze teased the trees, rustling the green leaves and stirring the birds.

  A pair of goldfinches trilled overhead, following us, hopping from windowsill to windowsill, until they flew away, ushering in a couple of mourning doves. The carousel of birds continued, species after species, trailing behind as we neared Union Square.

  “Do you see the birds?” I tugged on Daniel’s hand. “Look at the blackbirds over there. They’re coming in pairs.”

  Perched on top of the awning of a nearby bistro, blackbirds with ruby red paint strokes on their wings chirped merrily.

  Daniel tilted his head and studied them. “I’ve never seen this happen before. It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it? Perhaps a great omen for what’s to come?” He resumed humming an unfamiliar song, one he’d begun the moment we crossed the Dragon’s Gate.

  “What is that tune? I don’t think I know it.”

  He tilted his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s nice.” I tipped my head toward the birds. “It seems like we’ve attracted an audience.”

  Daniel smiled as we made our way into the square and toward the heart sculpture. He never walked ahead of me. Instead, he matched my steps, walking along at my side, often glancing down to make sure I was still there, as if our linked hands weren’t proof enough.

  “When I was a kid, I carried this stuffed animal around everywhere with me. I can’t remember what kind it was because even in pictures it was tattered beyond recognition.” He tilted his head toward the birds. “My father kept throwing it into the washing machine to wash away whatever adventures I had with it that day. My mother mended it until she got tired of it and taught me how to do it myself with a thread and needle. She called it surgery practice.”

  A grin spread across my face. “What did you call your little friend, and what sort of adventures did you have?”

  “Birdie. To be fair, I stuck to a theme. I named my toy dog Doggie and my plastic pig Piggie. As for the adventures, they’re classified, but I can tell you that they involved a lot of traipsing in the mud, dirt, and sand.”

  “You had toys and I had books. I loved my comics. My favorite is Lao Fu Zi.”

  He returned my smile. “Ah yes, the old man and his band of misfit friends. My father loved them too—he kept them on the coffee table.”

  “I always wondered why the main character seemed to fall in love with ghost women.”

  “Ghost women have their allure. I see it.” The heat of Daniel’s gaze settled on me.

  I blushed. “You do know I’m not a ghost.”

  “Oh, I know,” he said. “You’re real, all right.”

  We stopped at one of the hearts in the square. The current version was made to appear like frosted glass. I walked toward it and reached out to touch the smooth surface. Iridescent pigments swirled underneath the fiberglass. Stunning.

  “It reminds me of the ocean,” Daniel said. “What you see inside of a seashell.”

  I nodded. “It’s lovely. I wish I had found something like this on a sandy beach somewhere. Can you imagine such a treasure?”

  “I can.” He was staring at me, holding me in his eyes.

  A silence rolled in and blanketed the city, blotting out the chatter of strangers, the drone of traffic, the tinkling of leaves, and even the sound of my own breath and heartbeat. The instant of clarity before the exhale.

  He took my other hand in his, pulling me closer, and leaned in for a kiss.

  I had feared when his lips brushed against mine that I would catch fire from the fever burning under my skin. Instead, a slow hiss escaped as steam released into the air from our heat. My heart sang, fluttering in my chest in joy. This was what I had been missing. If I could kiss him forever, it would still not be long enough. In that moment, he was everything I wanted and needed.

  And so we kissed behind a veil of our own making. The fog rolled off our skin and into the city.

  * * *

  After the kiss, I could no longer trust my senses. My internal compass spun, whizzing, only pausing to point in his general direction. The kiss, the fog, the bliss. Daniel made me believe that I didn’t have to be alone.

  We stopped at the paifang to say our goodbyes. His army of gadgets chimed and buzzed. He needed to go back to work, but he lingered for a moment longer, his shy smile tugging at his lips. “I’m leaving for a tech conference tomorrow, but I’ll be back in a few days.”

  “What do you do exactly?” I asked.

  “I’m the senior VP of software engineering at the company. It’s a hybrid of coding work and managing people under me. The title is lofty.” He laughed. “When I get back, how about having our first date?”

  “This wasn’t our first date?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll need the extra days to plan. How about noon on Thursday, and I’ll drive us there.”

  I said yes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celia was tidying up her shelves when I arrived to tell her about my walk. When the final bridge figurine was turned the right way, she turned toward me. Her perfume of gardenia and lilac hung in the air. She wore a yellow frock also patterned with gardenias.

  “Are these new?” I asked. “That means the tour group bought a ton of stuff.”

  “They did,” she replied. “But I need plenty more busloads before I can start seeing profits again. The sooner you open the restaurant, the better—we need every tourist draw we can get.”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. “The neighborhood notification is really worrying me. Everything could fall apart before I can even start.”

  “But we all want you to open. You’re not going to get any opposition.”

  “I’m concerned about Old Wu,” I said, finally giving voice to my fear.

  He was the only person who might block me from reopening, and he had enough clout to do it. Old Wu would be my competitor, and he’d never disguised his distaste for me. I didn’t have the financial means to fight him or the courage to do so. And yet Celia wanted to arrange a meeting with him. How could I face someone who could only see me for all my failures?

  Celia scrunched her nose. “Technically, he’s part of the neighborhood, but he wouldn’t do that. He knows how bad it is for us, and blocking you would hurt the chances of reviving our businesses. He’s going to help you, not hurt you.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I tried to be optimistic but I was still concerned.

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll stand by you and so will the others. You’ll see,” Celia said. “Oh, I saw you take a walk with a very handsome young man earlier. How are things progressing with Daniel? Well, I hope.”

  “I think so. We’re going on a date on Thursday when he comes back from his conference.”

  Celia giggled and clapped her hands. “Excellent! I told you that you can have it all. Ah, and after the romantic drought you’ve suffered. O
h, that reminds me! I have news!”

  “What is it?”

  “I have a meeting with one of the tour companies later. I’m following up on my hunch. I know it’ll pay off.”

  I pushed the fear of Old Wu interfering with the restaurant away for a moment to soak in Celia’s revelation. She seemed to have found her stride. She was definitely excited about her newest venture. And with the increased traffic, the rest of the neighbors would benefit as well.

  After saying goodbye to Celia, I headed back to the restaurant. I remembered the kiss I’d shared with Daniel. Our date was in a few days. I couldn’t be happier as far as our relationship was concerned. Things were trending upward, imbuing me with hope and elation, yet part of me still worried I would ruin it all somehow.

  Mr. Kuk Wah stood across the street with his prized erhu in tow. The colorful tattoos on his arms contrasted beautifully with the palette of muted grays of his wardrobe. The street musician’s smile illuminated his entire being, so much so that I couldn’t help smiling in return.

  I let him into the restaurant.

  “My wife is talking to me again, and I have you to thank,” he declared, following me inside.

  “I helped you?”

  “Yes. She’s talking to me now. It’s been years since we last spoke.”

  “That’s excellent news!” I clapped my hands.

  Mr. Kuk Wah tucked his erhu under the counter and took a seat.

  “So, tell me everything.” I leaned across the counter with my chin resting on my hands.

  “My wife is very superstitious. She tends to believe in curses, and that’s probably why she hasn’t spoken to me. She thought I was cursed somehow, but something has changed recently. I don’t know what, but all of a sudden she answered my calls. She spoke to me and remembered she loved me.”

  My heart swelled, expanding in my rib cage as I listened to Mr. Kuk Wah’s story of love resurrected. My advice helped him. This was how Laolao’s recipes were intended—to heal, to repair relationships, and bring people back together.