by Roselle Lim
“Do you think people will come?” I asked. “I placed an ad in the Chronicle. It’s buried in the classifieds, but it’s a start.”
“Celia also placed an ad in the Sing Tao Daily for the past month. Your restaurant will have a good turnout,” Miss Yu replied. She looked around, taking in all the flowers, until her eyes settled on the radiant, golden Goddess. “Ahh, she is as she should be.”
I beamed. “Yes, she is restored.”
“Do you know that she’s the symbol of prosperity for our neighborhood?” Miss Yu asked. “Things will start to improve again for everyone.”
I smiled. “I certainly hope so. I feel comforted by the fact that she is watching over us all.”
Miss Yu approached me and enveloped me in a peony-scented embrace. “This is great to hear. You will do well. I better take my leave. I’m sure you’ll have more visitors coming.”
Celia walked past the windows and waved.
“Thank you,” I said to Miss Yu.
“No, thank you.” She bowed her head and smiled. Miss Yu held the door open for Celia as she left.
Celia beamed. “Look at all the flowers! Are you excited?” She carried an arrangement of birds-of-paradise and orchids. Her fuchsia lips curved in a crooked smile. Wearing a bright frock of sage green with a pattern of canaries, she was stunning.
She handed me the flowers. “Oh, I have news. Fai has finally found the perfect buyers for his bookstore. It’s a young family with a daughter from San Diego who apparently love books as much as he does. Isn’t that perfect? I invited them to the party tomorrow.”
“Yes!” I replied, setting down the flowers on the counter. “I’ll be so happy to see new neighbors come in.”
“Well, you’ll still see Fai around. He’s coming tomorrow and he mentioned bringing his lady friend. I can’t wait to see what she’s like.”
Last month, Older Shen had consulted me about his brave decision to pursue the woman of his dreams. It turned out to be someone from his ballroom dancing class. I encouraged him to invite her to the party. He wanted to dance with her and so he should. His fracture had fully healed a month ago.
“We’ve been hearing so much about her,” I said. “I’m dying to meet her too.”
“Do you have the menu set for the restaurant yet?”
“I think so. Everything is decided except for the daily special. I’m not sure which dish to pick.”
“I’ll give you some advice.” Celia winked. She threw her arm around my shoulder and lowered her voice. “You need to do another trial run of the choices you’re considering. I’m always up for another round of testing.”
I laughed. “Perhaps. I have a few ideas on how to adjust the dishes.”
She giggled. “I’ll come by when I close the store. I hope you’re excited. Are you sure the party after won’t be too much trouble? I mean, you’re already doing so much work to prepare for the grand opening . . .”
“I’ll be fine. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. Thank you again for the flowers.”
Celia nodded and waved goodbye, disappearing down the street to return to her gift shop.
There had been an overflow of blessings since the devastation of the fire. If I were the superstitious type, I would start worrying about the balancing string of bad luck coming. But I wasn’t Ma-ma.
I missed her and I missed Baba.
I locked the door and played Benvenuto Cellini on the Victrola. Berlioz’s beautiful opera echoed within the walls. The Chinese roses swayed to the music, stems bending, assuming the flexibility of undulating seagrass. Their petaled heads surrendered to the notes, their movement dictated by the tempo.
I missed Daniel too.
I hadn’t seen him since I visited him at work.
Thinking of him unleashed an ocean of regrets. Months later, it still stung, though it was my fault for driving him away. If my grandmother could forget about her love for the Shanghainese hotelier, then perhaps I could do the same with Daniel. I would take the strength of the women in my family to heart. My mother had taught me to let your love make their own choice. My laolao taught that you needed to honor it.
I shook my head, pushed the painful thoughts of Daniel away, and focused on the grand reopening. I still needed to prep for the restaurant’s opening in the afternoon and make arrangements for the evening’s private feast for the neighbors.
Tomorrow, I could finally fulfill my heart’s wish.
Chapter Thirty-one
The afternoon of the grand reopening drew in a healthy crowd. As I finished prepping my newest creation to serve as samples, a lineup gathered on the other side of the glass door. These faces were excited strangers: peering in through the windows, whispering with subdued smiles, pointing at the flowers and the decor, and taking pictures of the newly painted sign.
I glanced at the clock. Two minutes left.
I had arranged samples of the ginger shrimp balls on a large tray. Toasted bread cut into small cubes hid a juicy center made of minced shrimp and ginger: bite-size, golden hors d’oeuvres with an addictive crunch.
Ginger Shrimp Balls
(Natalie’s Recipe)
Ginger
Black tiger shrimp
Egg
Salt
Pepper
Sesame oil
Cornstarch
White bread
Cilantro
Sauce:
Ketchup
Hot sauce
Grate the ginger until it is fine enough to pound in a mortar and pestle. Discard the pulp and scoop out the juice and set aside. Peel the raw shrimp and mince. Mix the egg, minced shrimp, ginger juice, salt, pepper, sesame oil, and cornstarch in one bowl. The consistency should be sticky like a paste.
Set aside because this will be the shrimp balls. Toast a few slices of the bread lightly. The color should still be pale, but the bread itself, firm. Cut and discard the crust. Chop the remaining toasted bread into small cubes no bigger than your fingernail.
Scoop a tablespoon of the sticky shrimp filling and form it into a round ball. Cover the surface with the bread pieces. Place the breaded shrimp balls on a flat sheet and chill in the refrigerator for at least fifteen minutes.
Heat the cooking oil to the right temperature. If it’s too hot, the bread will turn brown and burn. If it’s too cold, they will fall off.
Garnish with cilantro and serve with ketchup mixed with hot sauce for dipping.
Note:
When well prepared, this dish should resemble golden, faceted jewels. The visual impact will impress and invigorate. Even the pickiest customer cannot resist its crunch and juicy filling.
Serve this to those you want to sway over to your side. The more stubborn the mind, the more ginger you must add.
One minute left. The murmur outside grew louder, as did the sound of my heartbeat. I reached the door, unlocked it, and flipped the sign. My restaurant was officially open.
Traffic exceeded my expectations. Even though I had rationed my samples well, they ran out three hours before closing. The dumplings sold out and were a hit like the rest of the menu items. I’d made new connections and potential repeat customers, and had set up interviews with food bloggers and the local papers.
On any other day, I would have felt exhausted, but not today. Today I was living my dream.
I closed early to prepare for our neighborhood dinner that night. I’d filed a permit to have the road closed off for a few hours. Tonight would be for us: to celebrate our families and our businesses. We had the street to ourselves for a few precious hours. Younger Shen and Mr. Chiu set up a long table and chairs while Mrs. Chiu and Celia arranged the tablecloth and place settings. I was kept busy in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the dishes for our meal. Old Wu had come to help so I wasn’t too overwhelmed.
Miss Yu
gave each of us a red paper lantern, and we released them into the night sky. They floated in the air, miniature dirigibles, sustained by our dreams for the future. Their light provided extra warmth on the cool night. I pulled out the Victrola, and my neighbors supplied their own records for the evening. Dolly Parton, Teresa Teng, and Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring filled the air, courtesy of Younger Shen, Miss Yu, and me. The lanterns above our heads bobbed to the music, swaying like drowsy fireflies.
We all rushed back into our apartments to change for the occasion. Celia insisted that pageantry was required after decades of living in gray. She was radiant in a lemon sundress with a purple butterfly print. I wore a short-sleeved, white qipao embroidered with ivory phoenixes. Mrs. Chiu wore a floral black and red poppy dress that I had no doubt was a by-product of Celia’s influence. Miss Yu favored her signature pastel palette of creams and robin’s-egg blue. The men donned elegant suits: Mr. Chiu in silver and Younger Shen in scarlet. Older Shen had yet to arrive, but had promised to adhere to the dress code.
The Hsu family appeared at the same time as Older Shen and his date. The Hsus had bought the bookstore and were due to reopen it in a month. Eugene and Dorothy Hsu were in their late thirties with a nine-year-old daughter, Vanessa. Eugene was an experienced bookseller and Dorothy, a successful litigator. When I noticed a copy of Philip Pullman’s The Amber Spyglass peeking out from her backpack, I knew we could be friends.
Older Shen’s date turned out to be a stunning clinical psychologist named Sneha. In her late sixties, she was newly retired and had taken up ballroom dancing on a lark. He held her in his eyes as if she were the most precious, fascinating being in his world: a combination of wonder and love. She reciprocated with a level of awe reserved for those who finally found what they sought after a long journey. I couldn’t be happier for both of them.
Old Wu was the final guest to arrive. He had changed to a dashing black suit accented with a red silk dress shirt.
I beckoned Celia and Older Shen to join me in the kitchen. Together, we brought out the feast I’d prepared. The looks of admiration and appreciation from the dinner guests filled me with joy and pride. Everyone took their seats, and the dinner could begin.
* * *
A formal ten-course Chinese dinner was a deliberate courtship of the senses. The appetizers of cold plate meats gave way to steaming fish maw soup, cold and hot introductions to titillate and delight before the showcase of entrees: beef, pork, chicken, fish, seafood, vegetables. The ensuing textures, aromas, and flavors seduced, fulfilling the promises of the first courses. The inclusion of noodle and rice dishes provided a sense of comfort. The final dessert course of sesame balls stuffed with red-bean paste sealed the engagement on the sweetest of notes.
After the meal, Old Wu and I hovered by the Victrola as couples waltzed before us to the mesmerizing voice of Nat King Cole, a record Older Shen had provided. The Chius danced together cheek to cheek. Their marriage was on more solid ground. Mrs. Chiu had wanted her husband to choose her and he had done so by setting a firm retirement deadline within five years. Older Shen and Sneha displayed their superior skills by engaging in a Viennese waltz. Celia and Younger Shen danced together alongside the Hsus.
“Did you ever dance with my grandmother?” I asked Old Wu.
“Yes,” he replied. “She was light on her feet, much more than I was.” He tipped his head to the swaying couples. “You’re young, Ye Ying. There’s still hope.”
I blushed. “Perhaps, one day, Lao Shi. For now, I’m content to watch.”
“Make sure not to stay on the sidelines too long,” Old Wu warned.
“Or I’ll end up like my beloved mentor?” I teased.
Old Wu broke into a raucous, rusty laugh.
* * *
The evening ended when the red lanterns disappeared into the sky, the table was dismantled, and the Victrola returned to my restaurant. Celia insisted that I take the floral centerpieces from the table. With the night over, I returned my attention to tidying up the restaurant and preparing for the next day.
I had just reached for a new stack of paper napkins to refill the empty holder when I heard the jingle of the bell at the door.
“Did you forget something, Celia?” I asked, wrestling with the sticky adhesive binding.
The visitor cleared his throat.
I looked up.
Daniel.
The bundle fell from my hands. Napkins scattered on the floor.
He’d come back.
He was wearing a red pin-striped long-sleeved dress shirt and fitted black jeans, his signature earbuds peeking from above his collar. His messenger bag was missing. Instead, he carried a dozen roses and what looked like a wrapped gift.
“Hello,” he said. “These are for you.” He handed me the bouquet.
The heady perfume of the red roses matched their deep, vibrant shade. I resisted the urge to bury my nose in the soft petals. “Thank you,” I said, placing the bouquet on the crowded countertop.
He crouched down, picked up the scattered napkins, and arranged them into a pile. He placed the collection on a stool and took note of the extravagant collection of flowers. “Congratulations on the grand opening. I’d better clear my schedule so I can get a good spot in line. You’re well loved.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
A soft shade of pink crept into his cheeks. “You opened the restaurant. You did it. I knew you could. I wanted to see you the moment I saw the ads. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me again, but it couldn’t hurt to find out. Honestly, after all this time, all I could think about is the incredible woman in white whom I left in Chinatown.”
I felt like I had been launched into the sky on the wings of a thousand birds.
“The time apart wasn’t a complete waste. It took that long to find this for you.” He handed me the gift. It was flat, and judging by its dimensions, I knew it was a record. “Before you open it, I want to tell you something about me. I love music, and as you probably noticed,” he said, touching his earbuds, “I listen to it all the time.”
It was another sign of the red thread that connected us to each other. Baba had been right. Daniel was my match. I wish they could have met—they had much in common.
“So do I,” I said, smiling. “My earliest, favorite memories center around the sound of the erhu.”
“That reminds me, there was a musician with that instrument I spoke to a while ago. Is he related to you?”
My heart soared. It was impossible. “Yes. How did you know?”
“You both have the same smile,” he replied with a grin. “I talked to him a few times when I was on my way over here before.”
Baba had chosen to appear to Daniel. As if I wasn’t completely smitten already. Heat bloomed in my cheeks as I lowered my eyes to prevent myself from revealing too much of the state of my heart.
“So, that,” he said, pointing at the gift, “is your song. It’s the first track on side one. It took me a while to hunt it down because I wanted the best version. I heard it from the birds in the square that day when we kissed.”
I ripped the blue wrapping paper. I realized I had never thought about what my own song would be, but Daniel knew. It was an album by Edith Piaf titled La vie en rose. A striking Frenchwoman, someone I had never seen before, graced the black-and-white cover. Being raised by an opera connoisseur, I had limited exposure to other genres.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“An incredible singer from Paris in the forties. Her stage name, ‘Piaf,’ means sparrow. This song is sung in French and it means ‘Life through rose-colored glasses.’” He held out his hand for the record and headed for the Victrola. “May I?”
“Yes, please.”
He returned the Berlioz record to its sleeve. The needle lowered and the music began. With the first magical chords, I held out my hand.
Daniel accepted and pulled me into his arms, and we began to dance.
The rose petals from his bouquet floated in the air, clustering into patterns of sheet music, dots of rose red, arranging and rearranging in sync with the melody, circling us while we swayed.
Our feet floated above the polished floor, weightless and free.
He leaned in, holding me closer, and whispered the translation of the lyrics into my ear.
And we danced to my song.
Discussion Questions
1. How did the relationship dynamics between Qiao and Miranda differ from those between Miranda and Natalie? Is there a repeating pattern, and if so, what is it?
2. Cultural expectations drove Qiao and Miranda apart. What did Qiao expect from her daughter and, consequently, what did Miranda expect from Natalie?
3. The imagery of birds appears throughout the book. When do they occur and what do you believe is the meaning behind each occurrence?
4. Miranda’s agoraphobia debilitated her greatly, from not being able to travel with her husband to not being able to help her daughter after she fell outside. How might her life have turned out differently if she had been able to get help early on?
5. Was Natalie selfish for leaving her mother and traveling all over the world, or is she justified in pursuing her dream?
6. What do you think is the effect of the magical realism incorporated throughout the book?
7. Daniel evokes a strong emotional and physical reaction from Natalie from the very beginning. What makes him different from the previous men in her life? Do his family dynamics affect their relationship in any way?
8. Natalie is used to running away from her problems. At what point does she realize she can’t run away from her troubles at home? What external and internal factors is she running from?
9. Food is a huge element of the book, connecting the residents of the Chinatown neighborhood. How does food impact your own life and the way you interact with others?