Back to the Good Fortune Diner (33 page)

Suddenly, Daniel wanted to take his answer about the next five to ten years back. Because he knew exactly where he’d be in that time. He’d be here, walking around like that guy, in a slight daze, heading back to his cubicle to stare at some spreadsheets. He would have a chance to move up the company ladder, but would that matter? It would be the same thing at a different desk. He’d be a suit who played with numbers.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just realized I have another appointment.” He got up and shook their hands, then left the building and the miasma of despair he hadn’t noticed before. He was going to have to apologize to Isaac about this.

The farther he got from the office, though, the more he knew it was the right decision. Enjoying the sun and the unseasonably warm September weather, he walked all the way to Chinatown and decided to have lunch at a popular barbecue and noodle house.

He’d been to this restaurant as a student because the food was cheap, the service fast. The waitress recognized him instantly. She asked after his family and whether he’d married yet, then speedily brought him his meal: noodles in soup with roast duck and a plate of
gai lan.
He relished the simple flavors of the egg noodles and broth with scallions, the tender, juicy meat of the slowly roasted duck. The parboiled leafy green
gai lan
was slightly bitter, but still crisp. He removed his tie and jacket, the steam from the front counters warm and redolent with spices and cooking oil. He ate slowly, every bite kindling a memory not only from his college years, but from his childhood, as well.

He’d had this meal before with
Kung-kung,
on his grandfather’s birthday
.
Daniel’s parents had wanted to take him to a fancy new dim sum place, but
Kung-kung
had insisted on the barbecue house.
The simple things often bring you the greatest happiness,
he’d said.

Daniel looked down at the empty bowl, swallowing his last bite. It was the most delicious meal he’d had in a long time.

As the waitress collected his dishes, she asked if he wanted anything else.

“Actually, yes. Are you hiring?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
IFFANY LISTENED TO HER BROTHER’S
enthusiastic chatter as she cleared off her desk. She’d gone to the office for a meeting and was buried hip-deep in work.

“So, let me get this straight. You gave up the chance to work at your friend’s company to work as a
cook?
”

“And a waiter. The pay’s not great, but the owner of the restaurant, Mr. Peng, said he’d be willing to give me a shot, see what I can do. He wanted someone fluent in English and Cantonese, so it works out perfectly.”

He sounded nearly giddy about it. She wasn’t sure she understood how he’d gone from putting on that suit this morning to donning another apron. He hadn’t even gone back to the apartment to change—he’d started work right away. “That’s...great.” She could only be happy for him. It was his life, after all. “I hope this is what you want, bro.”

“It is. I have to go. We’ve got to prep for the dinner hour. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll probably be working late.”

She looked at her own pile of work and sighed. “Same here.”

“I’ll get the delivery guy to bring you some noodles, on me.” With that, he hung up.

Tiffany turned back to the rejection letter she was writing, trying to find something positive to say about the abomination that had landed on her desk. By the time she was done typing the letter out, the receptionist knocked on her office door.

“Someone at the front desk to see you,” Karen said. Tiffany glanced up at the clock and was surprised by how quickly time had passed. “I’m about to leave. You sticking around?”

She slumped in her chair. “Probably.”

Karen pouted in sympathy. “I’ll wait until you’re done with your visitor and lock the door behind me.”

Tiff rummaged through her purse for a few dollars for a tip. It must be the delivery man with her brother’s promised noodles. She’d never realized how thoughtful Daniel was—he’d always taken care of her, even when she’d been nasty to him. All this time, their relationship could have been so much better if only she hadn’t been so hung up on how her mom and dad idolized him.

She owed him an apology big-time.

She headed toward the reception area and halted in her tracks. A familiar set of broad shoulders, wavy dark blond hair and sky-blue eyes was leaning against the counter, talking with Karen, grinning widely.

Tiffany’s heart started pounding hard in her chest, and the edges of her vision went fuzzy. He stopped talking when he saw her, his eyes going bright and soft all at once. Karen looked her way and grinned. “Hey, Tiff. You and your...friend have a good weekend. And don’t forget—Caitlyn’s in her office.” She winked.

“Um...thanks.” What did she think they were going to do? Have sex on the conference table? Her brain smoldered at the thought, and she shut the image out.

Chris continued to smile at her. Her fingertips had gone numb, and her lips burned, as if they remembered his kisses. Determined not to show her weakness for him, she pushed back her shoulders and ground her heels into the hardwood floor. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

Even his voice seemed to beckon to her. His roving gaze was as tangible as a touch. “What are you doing here?” she asked shakily.

“I drove up with Simon for a weekend in the city. Thought we might visit some campuses, look around. He’s taking a nap at the hotel right now.” Chris stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, glancing down briefly. “I hope it’s okay that I came to visit.”

“No. I mean, yes, of course it’s okay. How’s your father?” she asked hastily. She didn’t want to admit how glad she was to see him, how torn she’d been these past few weeks. She didn’t want to talk about
them.

“Dad’s okay. He had a minor infection after the surgery, but he’s doing better. Right now, he’s taking care of things on the farm—well, from a backseat position, that is. Jane’s doing all the heavy lifting, but keeping Dad involved helps him cope. Here.” He pushed a potted plant wrapped in florist’s paper across the receptionist’s desk toward her. “This is from him. He wanted me to send you his congratulations on the new job.”

Inside was a cactus. The card read:

Prickly and prone to hurt people. Not unlike yours truly. Sorry for being such an ass. Hope this thrives in your care. All the best, WJ.

She smiled wryly. The old man sure had a dry sense of humor. “Tell him thanks for me.” She hoped this was the proverbial olive branch. She wished she could apologize to him in person.

Chris tapped his fists against his sides nervously and glanced around. “This is a nice office. Are you liking it here?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” She nodded. “Um...do you want a tour?”

There wasn’t that much to see. Except for the boxes of books everywhere, it looked like any other office within a converted loft space. But she pointed out the various desks, the cluttered library and her own overstuffed office, which remained devoid of any personal touches. She set the cactus by the window. It helped a little.

They passed Caitlyn’s office, and when her boss looked up, she leaped out of her chair and introduced herself to Chris, pumping his hand vigorously. Her boss was a tiny powerhouse of a woman, exuberant and ultrafriendly. Her energy was infectious, though her workaholic tendencies made the rest of the staff feel guilty about leaving at five every day.

“Tiff’s been such a trouper,” she enthused. “I’m so glad I hired her. I couldn’t have asked for a better assistant.” She beamed at Tiff, making her blush a little. “So, you’re visiting with your son?”

“Checking out the campuses. Seeing the sights. My main goal this weekend is to give him a taste of college life, make it less alien.”

“That’s terrific. What a great dad you are. Tiffany, you are going to host your friend, yes? Show off the old alma mater?” She turned back to Chris. “We both went to NYU, so I’d be a little biased in saying that you couldn’t choose a better place to send your boy. Isn’t that right, Tiff?”

Her brain was still hung up on the first part of her speedy speech. “Actually...I was going to take some work home this weekend....” She couldn’t spend time with Chris and Simon. She didn’t want to be reminded of what they’d shared, what she’d left behind.

Caitlyn put her strong hands on Tiff’s shoulders and marched her toward her office. “You work too hard. You’ve been taking work home every day since you started.”

“So do you,” she pointed out.

“That’s different. You need to take the weekend off. Catch up with your friend, go see a movie, show off the city. I’ll see you fresh on Monday morning.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Tiffany and Chris walked out of the building together.

“She’s...energetic, isn’t she?” Chris said.

“Caitlyn? Oh, yeah. That’s what I like about her, though. She’s a great boss.”

He smiled. “We’re staying at a hotel not too far from here. Would you like to join us for dinner? I was hoping you could recommend a place. I’m sure Simon wouldn’t mind.”

Tiff hesitated. Chris’s choice of words seemed to indicate that all was not forgiven or forgotten. She hated to think Simon was still mad at her.

“I’d like that,” she said, coming to a decision. “There’s a nice Italian restaurant I used to go to all the time. It’s in Manhattan on Canal Street. We can take a cab. After dinner, I could take you guys on a night tour.”

“Sounds great.”

Chris had driven a rented sedan, which was more comfortable and fuel efficient than his truck. They picked up Simon from the hotel. He greeted Tiffany with a wary “Hey,” and didn’t say anything else during the cab ride to Manhattan.

At dinner, Simon picked at his lasagna. Chris tried to engage him, but the teen stayed focused on his food. When Chris left the table to use the restroom, Tiff decided to clear the air. “You’re not happy to see me, are you?”

“It wasn’t my idea to come here.” He slumped lower into his seat and looked away.

“Look, I’m sorry about the way things worked out. I know I was wrong to lie, and I’m going to regret that for the rest of my life, especially if you don’t forgive me.” She placed a hand over his forearm and he flinched, pulling away. She’d touched his burned arm, only the bandages had since been removed. She glimpsed a small patch of shiny pink scar tissue before he tucked his hands into his hoodie sleeves and hid them under the table. A lump formed in her throat. She’d brought this boy so much pain.

“My life is here, Simon. Even so, I hope we can still be friends,” she said quietly. “I want you to feel like you can talk to me, especially if you want help with school.” When he didn’t respond, she pressed on. “I’m proud of you, Simon. You did an amazing job this summer. And I think if you keep working hard, you could do whatever you wanted. I’m sorry if the relationship I had with your father upset you, but that’s between us. But you and me, we’re friends, okay?”

He met her gaze, his bangs sliding over his eyes. “Whatever.”

Chris returned, and he looked between them. “Everything all right here?”

She beamed up at him. “Everything’s fine. Let’s get the bill. We can get dessert at this awesome ice cream place not too far away.”

They went for a stroll. Simon walked ahead of them, peering into shops and staring openly at the spectacle of native New Yorkers out on the town. Chris walked next to her, hands in his pockets. She resignedly followed suit and kept a few inches between them so they wouldn’t bump elbows.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked when she noticed him squinting up at the skyline.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t see the stars.”

She thought about the night she and Chris had gone to Osprey Peak and how the stars had looked. That empty feeling inside her gaped wide.

They made their way north along Broadway, and she pointed out where the bulk of the New York University campus lay. Simon couldn’t hide his avid interest as his eyes darted from building to building, and then to some of the coeds hurrying by to enjoy a night on the town.

They got ice cream and hopped on a bus to Times Square. Simon’s eyes were like saucers as he gazed up and around to take it all in. He pulled out his cell phone and started snapping pictures. Tiff hopped into a souvenir shop and bought him an I ♥ NY button.

“Lame,” he said, but pinned it onto the lapel of his shirt anyhow. His mouth pursed into a half smile. “How long would I have to live here until this became fashionably ironic?”

“A couple of months, I guess. I don’t know. I’ve always felt like a bit of a tourist myself.”

She caught Chris’s odd look then. “Are you all right?” she asked when he rubbed his temples.

“It was a long drive. And I’ve got a headache.” He squinted against the flashing rainbow of lights. “Call me an old man, but it’s been a while since I’ve been out this late.”

It was nearly midnight by the time they returned to the hotel in New Jersey. Chris insisted they drop Tiffany off at her apartment first, even though they would have to circle around.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said when they reached her stoop. He told Simon to wait in the cab. The teen stared balefully at Tiffany, as if to remind her of her promise not to play with his father’s feelings. She waved and said good-night.

“I’m sorry about Simon,” Chris said as they walked up four flights of stairs. “I’ll have a word with him.”

“No. Don’t do that. I already talked with him and...well, neither of us can make him forgive me.” She mused how she’d once said the same thing about earning Simon’s respect. She’d lost it too easily.

When the silence stretched on, she asked tentatively, “Are
you
still mad at me?”

Chris stopped her on the stairwell. “No. I’m not. How can I be? You love what you’re doing. You’re back where you belong, and you’re happy. I can’t be mad about that.”

But I’m not happy without you,
her heart cried.