CHAPTER1
New year, new me. Isn’t that the phrase? When you’re Asian, you have the opportunity to experience that twice a year. And you better believe that I, Lana Lee, take full advantage of that fact every calendar cycle. Because sometimes, let’s face it, you don’t follow through with your January 1 resolutions like you thought you would.
Though Chinese New Year doesn’t revolve around the act of resolutions, I still allow myself a fresh start, just in case I fall off the goal wagon by, let’s say, January 15.
Normally I would hold out a little longer, struggling to make that next trip to the gym or remembering that I’m supposed to be eating less carbs versus more. But when you have Ian Sung, property manager of Asia Village, breathing down your neck in preparation for the upcoming Lunar New Year festivities, it’s a bit difficult to put down that doughnut. If Mama Wu at Shanghai Donuts—which is conveniently located right next to Ho-Lee Noodle House, my family’s restaurant—didn’t make such a fantastic sugar raised doughnut, I probably wouldn’t have had to consider an empire waist for my New Year’s Day outfit.
It was a mere ten minutes before nine a.m. when Ian waltzed through the doors of Ho-Lee Noodle House with a white wax paper bag and a to-go coffee cup. He’d known me long enough to learn my weaknesses and how to get me to comply with his requests.
“We’re not even open yet,” I bellowed while accepting his peace offerings. We were two days away from the celebration that would encompass Asia Village and he had entered full-on bossy mode.
He held out an arm and ushered me over to the nearest table. “Exactly. I’ll have your full attention.”
Stifling a laugh, I seated myself facing the door so I could keep an eye on any activity going on in the plaza. If Ian thought getting my full attention right before the restaurant opened was an actual thing, I kinda felt sorry for him.
Aside from his delusional thinking, I would best describe Ian as a charmer. No doubt that he was incredibly good looking, but … in a sinister way. You know that bad guy who always shows up in movies, the dashingly handsome one pretending to be the good guy? On the surface you want to believe him, but deep down you know better, you know he’s up to no good. You’re just waiting for him to show his hand and prove you right. Well, that’s Ian. As of yet, though, he hasn’t shown any signs of actually being the evil antagonist I imagine him to be.
I opened the bag he’d handed me and removed the sugar raised doughnut, which was shaped like an eight … or an infinity symbol … Choose your perspective. I inhaled the sweet dough as I took my first bite, the sugar granules sticking to my lip gloss.
“Now, I know I don’t have long before the Matrons get here, so let me run through my thoughts before you say anything.” Ian began to fidget with the knot of his silk tie.
Dressed to impress in fine French suits, Italian leather shoes, and a Rolex watch that cost more than I make in a year, he is one photo shoot away from ending up on the cover of GQ. Of course, I don’t admit these types of thoughts to other people. I have my own dashingly handsome man, thank you very much. And frankly, if you ask me, one is enough.
“You have the floor,” I replied.
Ian pulled a folded piece of notepaper out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Unfolding it, he glanced at me. “I need to confirm that all of the food is handled. You and Ho-Lee Noodle House are in charge of the main menu, the Bamboo Lounge will be handling alcohol and appetizers, and Shanghai Donuts will provide the desserts. I checked with Mama Wu when I picked up your doughnut this morning, and she confirmed her end. What’s going on with Penny and the Bamboo Lounge? Are they all set to go?”
Since I was in mid-bite of my doughnut, I gave him a thumbs-up. We’d been over this several times already. Penny had ordered mass amounts of alcohol at the beginning of the year in preparation for the party, so that was one hundred percent covered. And she’d been tacking onto her regular weekly food orders to avoid any supply chain problems that might occur with bulk ordering.
My mother had chimed in on the topic and voiced her annoyance that our restaurant wasn’t serving the appetizers as well. But I knew it would make life easier for us, and the budget.
Removing a ballpoint pen from his pocket, he checked off the first line and then read the next.
“What about the tables, chairs, and tablecloths? They are being delivered Saturday morning, correct?”
I set my doughnut on the tea saucer in front of me, lest I shovel it down like a scavenger. “Yes, Ian, all that stuff is being delivered Saturday morning like we have discussed on multiple occasions since I first confirmed the order. Also, along with that is the acrylic cover for the koi pond.”
“Oh good, that was next on my list,” he said, checking off another line.
“Why are we going over this yet again? We just met about fine-tuning the details on Monday.”
He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because, Lana, we have no room for error on this. It is by far the largest party we’ve ever had at Asia Village, and we don’t want to have egg on our face, now do we?”
“A lot of this is riding on me too, you know.” I wiped my hand on the napkin Mama Wu had supplied in the bag. “I’m pulling Megan in … not to mention two of her bartenders for this whole shindig. I’ve made all the appropriate calls and double-checked my work. I’d appreciate a little bit of confidence in my abilities, Ian.”
He tapped his paper with the tip of his pen. “What about the lion dance performers?”
I pursed my lips. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
A gentle tapping on the window of the front doors caused me to look up. The clock above the door told me it was nine a.m. on the dot, and four familiar faces stared back at me. The Mahjong Matrons had arrived.
Aside from their status as reigning champs of the infamous Chinese tile game, the elderly widows were my most reliable customers. They showed up at the same time every day, ordered the same exact things, and even sat in the same booth. On top of all that, they were also the absolute authority on everything going on in our tight-knit Asian community. If there was something to know about someone, they knew it.
“Excuse me,” I sang to Ian, taking a small amount of pleasure in making him wait.
I unlocked the doors, pulling one open, and with a grandiose sweep of my arm, welcomed the Matrons in. “Ladies! It is so good to see you; it feels like it’s been forever.”
Helen, the true matriarch of the group, tilted her head. “Good morning, Lana. What has gotten into you?”
The other ladies followed behind her, marching into the restaurant with piqued curiosity at my exuberant behavior.
“Yes,” Wendy said, studying my face, “are you feeling well?”
“It’s just good to see the four of you; it feels like it’s been ages,” I said, closing the door once they’d all filed in. “Matter of fact, it feels like two years.”
Helen and Wendy headed over to their usual booth by the window, which provided a great vantage point to look out into the plaza. But the other two ladies, Opal and Pearl, stayed behind to observe me further.
Pearl, older sister to Opal, looked me up and down. Her hand extended, and I felt like she was going to check my forehead for a fever, but she paused, and instead took a step back. “You’re not sick, are you? We were just here yesterday.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I know you were; just feels like it’s been forever.”
I started to move in the direction of their table, and they followed, though with some hesitancy.
Opal noticed Ian, who had risen from his seat, tapping his fingernail on the back of the chair. In a
quiet voice, she nodded, and reached for her sister’s arm. “Ah, I see why Lana is happy to see us. The boss is here. We are a happy distraction.”
Ian blushed. “Good morning, ladies. I promise I won’t take much more of Lana’s time.”
Helen called from the table. “I should hope not, Mr. Sung. We have much to do today.”
Ian cleared his throat and sat back down.
“Just a minute,” I said to him, passing our table. “Let me grab their tea and place their order real quick.”
Had they not been a few feet away, I’m almost positive he would have complained. But he knew better than to say anything in front of our elders.
A few minutes later, I returned with their tea and let them know that Peter, my best friend and the restaurant’s head chef, was working on their order.
I sat back down, grabbing for my doughnut. “Okay, you may proceed.”
Getting back to his list of to-dos, he began rattling off something to do with something, but I had my eyes on the Matrons. I knew they were eavesdropping, as it was second nature to them, and I wondered what they thought of him being here.
It was pretty well known around the plaza that Ian had a thing for me, and that it was not mutual. The Matrons adored Adam, my current boyfriend, and kind of fawned over him any time he’d stopped by the restaurant while they were around.
“Lana, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Ian tapped his pen on the table.
Turning my attention back to him, he widened his eyes and scrunched his well-manicured brows. “Well, have you?”
I set my napkin down, picked up my coffee cup, and took a sip. “Uh-huh.” My eyes slid back over to the Mahjong Matrons, who were, of course, pretending as if they weren’t listening in.
Ian smirked. “You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, have you? I’m not going to keep bringing you doughnuts if you refuse to cooperate.”
“I heard you,” I replied with a groan. “You want to have a rehearsal in the parking lot with the lion dance crew before the actual show on Saturday. I already know. They’re scheduled to meet with me tomorrow morning.”
He folded his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. “And what did I say after that?”
“Right. After that. Well, you said…” I paused. I could feel five sets of eyes on me.
Helen, who was not only the matriarch but the loudest of the four, twisted in her seat. “He said he wants you to announce the winners of the raffle after the show is over, dear.”
“Exactly,” I said, nodding along with Helen. “That’s what I was just about to say.”
Ian pursed his thin lips. “It is critical we save the raffle until the very end of the night so everyone stays for the whole event. We can’t have people leaving early or immediately after they’ve eaten. How will that come off to other guests if people just eat and leave?”
The event itself was free to the public, but if you wanted a ticketed table there was an entry fee that would help cover the cost of the show. As an incentive, if you purchased a seat, your name would be entered into five different raffles featuring goods or services from any of the fine shops in our beloved plaza.
Ho-Lee Noodle House was contributing a two-hundred-dollar gift certificate—which my mother argued with me about, by the way. She wanted to cap the prize at one hundred, but I convinced her that if we really wanted to stand out from the others, we were going to have up our ante.
I’d also let it not so accidentally slip to Yuna, the receptionist at Asian Accents hair salon, what we were up to, and within the day it spread like wildfire around the entire plaza, causing the other shops to chip in more-competitive prizes. Yuna is basically the future generation of the Mahjong Matrons. I thought it would be a good test to see how efficient her rumor-spreading skills were, and it didn’t hurt to give her some practice.
My plan worked even better than anticipated, and when the fliers went out advertising all the great prizes, we had a sold-out event. So despite all the hard times Ian gave me, he knew I was good at this and wouldn’t let him down. Even factoring in my short attention span in the morning hours.
Ian tapped his fingernail on the black Formica tabletop. “Donna will be there. It is absolutely crucial that everything go off without a hitch. No excuses, no exceptions.”
He was referring to Donna Feng, property owner and widow of the original proprietor, Thomas. She’d taken on the role but was not at all hands-on like her late husband had been. She allowed Ian to do all the heavy lifting while she kept an eye on the finances and the bigger-picture items.
And though she didn’t grace us with her presence every day like Thomas had, she was an intense woman who demanded excellence at any cost. Which probably explained why the look in Ian’s eye was so severe as he delivered his warning.
If I hadn’t felt sorry for him in that very moment, I might have brought up the concept of what it means to jinx something. But I didn’t have it in my heart to tell him that by demanding its perfection, he’d just given the whole evening the kiss of death.
CHAPTER 2
Ian left shortly after making me promise four more times that I had heard everything he so kindly repeated for my express benefit. And now with him out of the way and off harassing some other participant, I could focus on getting the Matrons settled up with their bill and move on with my morning.
I returned to their table with a check and a platter of almond cookies.
Helen grabbed for the bill as she always did while the others made their customary fuss about allowing her to pay. Word on the street was that when her husband had passed away, he’d left her a healthy sum of money that allowed more than enough wiggle room in her budget.
She shushed them and angled her head upward, giving me the once-over. “Ian Sung is so worried about business all the time. He is not thinking about what you need to do to prepare yourself for the new year.”
I had a feeling I knew where this was going, but I allowed them to enlighten me.
“Yes.” Opal nodded in agreement. “I am sure your parents are preparing the appropriate reunion dinner. Your mother takes great care in this tradition.”
I nodded. Asia Village would be closing early Friday evening so everyone could be home with their families.
Pearl raised an index finger, pointing it in my direction. “And I’m hoping that you have been cleaning up your house. Things should not be messy on New Year’s Day.”
I thought about the pile of dirty laundry on the floor in front of my closet that my dog, Kikko, had transformed into her play pile. “Yup, I’ve just been cleaning every chance I get.”
Wendy said, “I suspect you are not telling the truth. But there is still time; you must correct this as soon as possible.”
The other three nodded.
My cheeks reddened a little at being caught in my innocent fib. It had been a busy few weeks, and I’d let some of my daily chores at home go by the wayside. Especially the laundry. Our unit didn’t have a private washer and dryer, so we had to drag our things to the designated laundry facility a few doors down from our apartment. Not exactly my favorite thing to do, especially in the winter months.
Helen placed her money with the check and handed it to me. “I know we don’t have to worry about you buying new clothes. This is something we all know you’re good at doing.”
I took the bill tray with a reluctant smile. “Yes, my outfit is all taken care of.” The idea was to wear completely new clothing on Chinese New Year as a symbolic fresh start. It was the one tradition I made sure to always partake in.
“But not your shoes, right?” Pearl reminded me. “The shoes must have been worn at least once. No exceptions.”
“Nope, shoes have been worn before.” I felt proud of myself for at least accomplishing that.
“Wonderful,” Wendy said with a clap. She reached for an almond cookie, shaking it at me. “We will leave the rest to you and hope everything turns out in your favor.”
I smiled and thanked them, excusing myself to cash out their bill.
When they left, I set an alarm on my cell phone to remind me when I got home to take care of that laundry. My life was too topsy-turvy these days to take any chances.
An average day in my world is truly nothing to write home about. I wake up far earlier than I want to, head to Asia Village—a mecca of all things Hello Kitty, noodles, and Asian-knickknack related—where I manage the family restaurant and deal with a variety of eccentric people. And in some instances of said people, “eccentric” is putting it nicely.
The Mahjong Matrons are my first customers of the day, every day, except Sundays when our restaurant has shortened hours. The adjusted hours are because as a family, we go to dim sum at Li Wah’s on the east side of Cleveland every Sunday morning. There are no excuses as to why you can’t show up. Not even the threat of nuclear devastation.
So, other than that, the Matrons are always there to greet me, and to be honest, it’s become quite comforting. My life could be spiraling out of control, but at least I knew
the Matrons would show up.
There was only one time in history that all four ladies failed to arrive as they should, ...
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