Dim Sum of All Fears Read online

  Kikko, my black pug, waddled to the door to greet me. Her curly tail wiggled as she spun around my ankles. I knelt down to give her a pat on the head. She approved and scampered off in search of something acceptable to bring me.

  Meanwhile, I found Megan sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand and paint swatches scattered in front of her. She was still in her pajamas, makeup-less, and her blond hair was swept away from her face by a thick black headband. Without looking up, she said, “Oh good, you’re home. I was just about to text you. I was thinking we could go to Home Depot today. I’ve decided on this mermaid theme for the bathroom, and this teal is the perfect color to paint the walls.” She held up a swatch to show me her recent selection. “I also need to grab a new flashlight and some window cleaner.”

  “A flashlight? We have one under the sink.”

  “I want one for my car. I’m putting together a whole kit of tools to keep in the trunk.”

  I studied the paint swatch. “This works for me,” I said, with little emotion. I was too bogged down with my current pity party to give a more enthused answer.

  “It kind of matches your hair.” She looked up and frowned. “What happened? Did your mom give you a hard time about your new dye job? Because you said you were anticipating that, and we decided you weren’t going to let it get to you, remember? We both know she doesn’t do well with change.”

  I nodded, sitting across from her, still in my coat. “Yeah, but that got overshadowed real fast.”

  “With what?”

  “My parents announced that they’re going to Taiwan for a couple of weeks to help take care of my grandmother.”

  Megan sipped her coffee, unimpressed with my news. “What’s the big deal with that?”

  “They’re leaving me in charge of the restaurant. They leave on Wednesday.” I slouched in the chair.

  “Wednesday!” Megan shouted.

  Kikko came barreling into the dining area, stuffed duck flapping in her mouth. She dropped it at my feet and looked at me in anticipation.

  I knelt down and picked up the duck, throwing it into the hallway. Kikko happily scuttled after it. “Yes, Wednesday, the day before my interview. The interview I’m not going to make because I now have to work.”

  “But didn’t you tell your parents that you were trying to get this job?”

  I looked at the floor.

  “You did, right?” Megan insisted.

  “I didn’t think it was a good time…”

  “Lana! How else are you going to get out of that place if you don’t speak up?”

  “It wasn’t a good time to bring it up. It’s really important to my mom that she go to Taiwan right now, and I didn’t want to cause more problems for them,” I said, trying to justify my actions. “Who else is going to do it?”

  “What about Anna May? Can’t she run the restaurant?”

  “They think it would get in the way of her school stuff. And it probably would.”

  Kikko came back with her duck, dropped it on the floor, and nudged it with her nose.

  “I can always try again when they get back.”

  “Of all the times for your parents to choose to go to Taiwan, of course it’s now.” Flustered, Megan stood abruptly, startling Kikko, who in turn grabbed her duck with indignation and pranced into the other room. “Well, we’ll figure out a plan together. You have to get that job. It’s not going to wait around for you.” She sighed. “In the meantime, I’m going to get dressed and then we’re going to Home Depot … this bathroom project will cheer you up.”

  “What will cheer me up is if we stop at the doughnut shop on the way.”

  * * *

  Bright and early Monday morning—my least favorite time of all—I pulled into the parking lot of Asia Village, passing the dragon-coiled arch on my way in, the sun barely touching the tops of the pagoda-lined plaza. The parking lot had been freshly plowed, and my tires crunched over the remaining snow and rocks of salt.

  I walked with care through the lot, keeping an eye out for patches of ice as I made my way to the main entrance. My riding boots were more fashionable than practical.

  I stamped my boots on the entrance mat as I entered the building, the sound echoing through the near-empty plaza. A few shop owners sprinkled the establishment, lifting gates or unlocking doors in preparation for opening.

  With its cobblestoned walkways, skylights, and koi pond—Japanese footbridge and all—Asia Village is what you’d call picturesque. The Asian-themed enclosed shopping plaza contains all the treasures of the Orient. Literally. That’s what it says in the brochure.

  We’ve got all the latest Chinese films and TV shows, a variety of pastries from moon cakes to egg tarts, and a full-sized grocery store that sells everything from bamboo shoots to red bean Popsicles. Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.

  I circled left around the red-painted fence enclosing the koi pond, passing Asian Accents hair salon, Wild Sage herbal shop, China Cinema and Song, and our newest addition, City Charm Souvenirs. The space in between Ho-Lee Noodle House and China Cinema had been filled at long last.

  I could see my newest friend and one of the proprietors, Isabelle Yeoh, through the window, tinkering around at the cash register. She noticed me and waved. She was a cutesy sort of girl with a round face, apple cheeks, and eyes that crinkled when she smiled.

  Isabelle and her husband, Brandon, had only joined our community a few short weeks after the whole ordeal with Mr. Feng. I was relieved they hadn’t had to experience those traumatic events.

  City Charm Souvenirs was the first of its kind in Asia Village. Not only did it represent Cleveland with the standard city pride paraphernalia, but it promoted the shops in the plaza as well. You could find snow globes, shot glasses, and mugs touting the Asia Village name.

  Once Isabelle and Brandon were more situated, they planned to do specialty items for the surrounding businesses. Most of the shops in the plaza had already put in requests.

  I was so preoccupied with daydreaming about logo designs, I hadn’t noticed that Peter, our head chef, was waiting for me. He stood from the bench he’d been sitting on, a mass of black clothing and shaggy hair.

  “You’re here early today,” I said, pulling the restaurant keys from my pocket.

  “Whoa … dude,” Peter said, ignoring my comment. “Your hair is blue.”

  I unlocked the door and we shuffled inside. With an hour left before open, I made sure to lock the door behind me. I had already learned my lesson. “Yeah, I had it dyed this weekend. What do you think?”

  He nodded in approval. “Right on. I totally like it.”

  Peter and I had formed a sort of special bond over the past few several weeks. Though we’d known each other for years, it wasn’t until Mr. Feng’s death that we’d solidified this new relationship.

  Through no fault of his own, Peter had been the patsy of the situation, and while many had turned their backs on him, I wasn’t willing to follow the herd. Of course, that’s what led to me being held at gunpoint, but in the end, it was worth it.

  That’s not to say I wasn’t still reeling from the experience. We both were.

  We wove through the black lacquered tables toward the kitchen. He turned to me with a smirk on his face. “What did your mom say? I bet she totally freaked.”

  I groaned, remembering her outburst at the restaurant. “You would not believe … she made a complete scene while we were out for dim sum yesterday.”

  Peter covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh man! I wish I could have been there to see that. Mama Lee does not disappoint.”

  Through the swinging doors, we entered the kitchen, and Peter flicked on the light. We passed through the kitchen to the small back room that housed my mother’s office and a makeshift living room. It had become a communal hangout area for the employees when we needed to get away from the customers. Its original purpose had been to keep me occupied and entertained after school when I was still a kid. I’d spent many an
afternoon doing homework in this room.

  He removed his black baseball hat from the hook hanging by the door, smoothing his hair before slipping it on. He turned to me. “Your mom is way cool, but she is seriously stern. If my mom was like that … I don’t know what I’d do.”

  I snickered. “Well, let’s just be glad there’s only one of her around here.”

  We went back into the kitchen, and I lined a tray with soy sauce bottles while Peter turned on the grills and burners.

  Both of us had our own morning rituals, and it was kind of nice to work in sync with someone. They did their thing, you did your thing, and everyone was happy. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad staying at the restaurant after all.

  * * *

  Around lunchtime, my mother and Esther Chin showed up bundled in their thick coats and matching cabbie hats. My mom, known for her love of hats, was sporting one of her favorites—a white knit, with a sparkly pink butterfly pin on the side of the brim. It came with a big pom-pom on top and everything.

  Esther’s eyes widened as she took in my hair for the first time. “Ai-ya! You are like a Hong Kong movie star now!” She came up to me and slapped my arm, her bangle bracelets jingling from inside her coat sleeve.

  Esther is my mom’s best friend, and also the owner of Chin’s Gifts. I’ve known her all of my life, and she’s like an aunt to me … a kooky aunt … but still, an aunt. She helped raise me and my sister at times, honing us to be what she considered proper ladies.

  My mother gave her a sideways glance.

  “You like it?” I asked, beaming at the irritation on my mother’s face.

  Esther nodded, gushing with pride. “This is very high fashion now in Hong Kong and Tokyo.” She nudged my mother. “You do not have any taste, Betty.”

  My mother snorted. “She is too old to dye her hair like this. She cannot find a husband this way. No man will want a wife with blue hair.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Mom…”

  “Okay, okay, I know what you will say.” My mother bobbled her head as she mimicked me. “‘It’s too early for this talk, Mommy.’” She waved a hand at me as she walked past. “We will eat lunch and go back to the casino. Mommy will not bother you today.”

  “You’re going to the casino again?” I asked, a little shocked. I don’t know why I was all that surprised. Jack Casino, housed in the old Higbee Building—the very one featured in the classic movie A Christmas Story—was a newer edition to the downtown area. From the minute the doors reopened in their newfound glory a few years ago, my mother and Esther couldn’t wait to claim their titles as slot machine champions. “Don’t you have things to do before you leave for your trip? Like packing?”

  “It will be okay. I am going to take an empty suitcase and buy things while I’m there. It is much cheaper this way.”

  “I thought we were going to go over things you wanted me to do while you’re gone.”

  “We can do that tomorrow,” she said, dismissing me.

  Esther squeezed my arm and followed my mother to the back. They were Peter’s problem now.

  I was just about to sit down on my hostess stool when the bells above the door tinkled and Isabelle walked in, smiling from ear to ear. “Happy Monday, Lana!”

  An eye roll escaped. I swear, it was like a disorder I couldn’t help. “I don’t know about all that.”

  “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad!” She scanned the restaurant. “At least you can ease into the week; it’s not very busy in here today.”

  “True,” I replied thoughtfully. “What brings you by? Need some lunch?”

  She shook her head. “No, Brandon brought me lunch from Tea House Noodles. He had to run an errand downtown and thought he’d surprise me. Isn’t that sweet?” Without waiting for me to respond, she continued. “But I will definitely need dinner later on tonight. I told Brandon I’d stay at the store and close up while he finishes his other errands.”

  “You’re working late again? That’s the fourth day in a row.” I tried to hide my surprise, but my emotions tend to live on my face. Poker face has been a work in progress longer than I care to admit.

  She shrugged. “That’s the life of a business owner, am I right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, anyway,” she replied, shaking it off. “I stopped by to see if we’re still on for our weekly book date tomorrow?”

  “You bet we are! I have my list of must-have books all ready to go.”

  “Meet me at Modern Scroll and then we’ll head to the Bamboo Lounge for some dinner and drinks?”

  I nodded. “Yup, I’ll meet you there at five thirty.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Great! I’ll make sure that Brandon knows he absolutely has to stay at the store tomorrow.”

  She waved goodbye and fluttered out just as Esther came back up to the hostess station. “That girl is always so cheerful,” she commented as she watched Isabelle disappear from view. “You should learn to be more like her.”

  I laughed. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could ever be that positive.”

  * * *

  At five p.m. on the dot, Vanessa Wen, the alternative bane of my existence—second only to Anna May—waltzed in the door looking very much like a ski bunny. She bounced over to the hostess station, the pom-poms dangling from her hood swaying back and forth with every step. “Hey girl!” she spouted with enthusiasm. “It’s getting cold out there; I hope you wore your heavy coat today.”

  Sometimes I wanted to put my hands on her shoulders and say, Calm down, stand still. Curbing that urge, I went with a tight smile. “Yeah, I did.”

  Satisfied with my answer, she traipsed into the back room tracking snow through the dining room. I groaned and reminded myself that I was learning to practice patience. After all, she was only a teenager.

  She came back with the same spring in her step, ponytail swinging like a pendulum. She froze in place, gawking at me. “O … M … G … I just realized that your hair is blue!”

  “Yeah, I had it done on Saturday.” All of my energy focused on keeping my face still as I said it.

  She leaned in and whispered, “Are you having a midlife crisis now? I mean, I know you’re almost thirty … and that’s super old and way scary to deal with. I mean you’re not even married, you know?”

  And … patience gone. I let out a deep breath. “No … I’m—”

  “Is it because of the whole almost-being-shot-to-death thing?” She formed a gun with her fingers. “Because I totally get it. I mean, I would do all kinds of stuff if that happened to me. Like … I’d get tattoos or something.”

  The heat rose in my cheeks. “No, I dyed my hair because I felt like it, okay?”

  “Oh,” she replied, her shoulders sinking.

  “And I’m too young for a midlife crisis anyway. I’m only twenty-seven.”

  She looked away, mimicking a toddler put in time-out. “Sorry.”

  Without saying anything else, I stomped through the kitchen into the back room to grab my coat and purse. “Peter, I’m leaving…” I said as I came back through. With frustration, I jammed my hand through the sleeve of my coat.

  “Whoa, what’s got you riled?” He was cleaning the grill and waiting on our night cook, Lou, to arrive.

  “Not even worth telling you.”

  “All right. Well, I’ll see you in the a.m. then.”

  I gave a flippant wave and barreled through the double doors. “Try not to burn the place down,” I said to Vanessa as I passed her.

  In my extreme desire to exit in a way that would make a statement, I almost ran smack into Brandon and Isabelle on their way into the restaurant.

  “Hi Lana!” Isabelle chirped, unfazed by my close proximity.

  “Oh!” I stumbled backward. “I didn’t see you there!”

  “Where’s the fire?” Brandon chuckled to himself, stepping out from behind his wife. At six foot two, he towered over Isabelle and me as we stood in a triangle of sorts.

&nb
sp; “Sorry about that, my head is elsewhere.” My eyes—like every time I talked to him—drifted up to his forehead, which I found to be exceptionally oversized and shiny. The overhead lights in the lobby bounced off it and created a shadow underneath his narrow eyes.

  “We were just at the salon. Brandon wanted to get his hair lightened before he went home. We thought we’d grab some dinner before he left for the night,” Isabelle explained. “Are you leaving for the day?”

  “Yeah, I’m heading home,” I told them, noting the lightened tips of brown in his otherwise black hair.

  “That’s too bad.” He sank his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth. “I feel like we’re always missing each other. Isabelle has such nice things to say about you all the time and I’ve hardly gotten a chance to know you.”

  “Likewise,” I replied. I wanted to add that maybe we’d know each other better if he didn’t dump Isabelle at their store day after day, but I held my tongue. Point for me.

  “Thanks for helping out, by the way. Sometimes these errands keep me running all over town. I’m glad there’s someone to keep Isabelle company.”

  I forced a smile. “Not a problem. Anything to help a friend.” The poor girl did need a bathroom break once in a while. In the past few weeks, he’d been disappearing more often. I had to wonder what all these errands were that he was so busy running.

  “One of these days we’ll all have to go out for dinner. I hear you’re dating a cop? Maybe we can make it a double date.” He winked at Isabelle.

  “That’s a great idea!” she said, beaming up at him.

  I blushed at the mention of Adam. “We’re not really—”

  Isabelle cut me off. “Oh, you stop it. You guys are the cutest new couple in the world.”

  “Not as cute as we are, of course,” Brandon bragged, slinking an arm around Isabelle’s shoulders.

  Stifling a groan, I faked another smile and said, “I’ll check with him and see when he’s free. He’s been slammed with work lately so it might be hard to schedule.”