Ill-Fated Fortune by Jennifer J. Chow

Author:Jennifer J. Chow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER 24

Kelvin had a longstanding tradition of eating quarterly dinners with my mom and me. It was a regularly scheduled chance for our trio to bond and catch up on one another’s lives. The routine had started when we were younger, after Kelvin’s mom had passed away and his dad had taken on more hours at the hospital.

Even though Mom considered Kelvin family, he always remembered to show up with a hostess gift for these dinners. He also took off his shoes without being asked, which Mom said was a sign of good manners.

Kelvin beamed at my mom tonight and offered her a sprig of yellow daisies. “Thanks again for opening up your home, Mrs. Jin.”

“Of course. And these are lovely.” Mom said that every time—except on the one occasion Kelvin had given her stargazer lilies. She’d dumped those blooms in the trash. They were the signature flowers that my father used to give her.

My mom placed the daisies in the already prepped crystal vase at the center of the dining table. “How is Ansel?” she asked Kelvin.

My best friend mumbled, “Dad’s good. Same as usual—busy.”

My only recollections of Mr. Love involved him running off in scrubs. He was a tall man with a closely shaved head and a trim goatee. When I was younger, I adored his smile, the way his eyes crinkled with warmth. But it was rare that he smiled after Mrs. Love passed away.

Kelvin turned to me. “Need some help in the kitchen tonight?”

“Very funny. It’s a simple meal per tradition,” I said, but then realized maybe he’d offered more for himself—to take his mind off his dad’s constantly busy schedule. “Though I guess you can wash the celery and peel the carrots.”

I was always in charge of the food for these quarterly get-togethers, and I opted for one-skillet meals. The fact that I could cook a little offered me solace for the many years I couldn’t bake to save my life. I could even mess up a bit with the measurements while cooking and still salvage the meal.

Tonight, I’d decided on cashew chicken, which only required that the nuts, celery, carrots, and meat be tossed together with oyster sauce. It didn’t require much work, and we got the table all set within half an hour.

Our dinner conversation consisted of the happy events in our lives. We skirted around heavier topics like murder, or failing magical baking abilities. Mom chatted about her latest TV series binge. I talked about my fortune cookie deals with the small grocery stores in Fresno. Kelvin discussed being featured in wedding magazines and various blogs for his floral arrangements.

Then Mom brought out the dessert. Usually, we had a carton of ice cream in our freezer at the ready. But this time, she gave us all egg tarts.

“Is this from the bakery?” I asked.

Mom sighed. “I made too much again. Guess I overestimated the amount of customers who’d be coming in.”

“Maybe we should up our hours again. Get more people through the door.

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