Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery) Read online

  “Do you still have that gyoza recipe?” she asked by way of compromise.

  Pete glanced at her warily. “I’m sure it’s in the house somewhere. You like it?”

  “A lot,” Sadie said with a nod as she grabbed another one with her chopsticks, fumbled it, and tried again. Chopsticks were frustrating. Pete chuckled at her attempts and tried to help her hold the chopsticks more securely. “Hold the second stick with the base of your thumb. There you go.”

  Another plate came out, and Pete warned her that Chinese barbecue ribs could be a little spicy. Sadie nodded, but after her second bite of the tender meat, she realized she’d been lulled into confidence by the other dishes. Her whole face and neck were on fire. She downed the rest of her water amid Pete’s chuckles.

  Pete pushed his glass of water toward her, and she didn’t even ask if he was sure he didn’t mind. She drank most of it in a single gulp.

  A few seconds later, the waitress put down a plate of what looked like doughnut holes covered in sesame seeds. Sadie threw one in her mouth before asking what it was. It was like bread but with a sweet filling. A little greasier than she’d have liked, but it did a good job of mellowing out the intense heat of the ribs.

  “A little spicy?” she said when she finally caught her breath.

  Pete leaned his elbows on the table while he finished up his third rib. “Well, I admit these are spicier than the ones I’m used to. But delicious. How did you like the jim dieu?” He nodded at the sesame seed doughnut holes.

  “Not sure I really tasted it,” Sadie said, grabbing another one and savoring it this time. “It’s good,” she said once she’d swallowed. “Is it dessert?”

  “Sort of. We’re still waiting on some pork buns.”

  “Is that everything?” asked the waitress.

  Sadie opened her mouth to ask for more water, but without waiting for an answer, the waitress put a ticket on their table. “Pay at the register.” She gave them a quick nod, then moved on to another table—six of the ten tables were full. Was she the only waitress working?

  “I feel funny interrupting Ji when they’re so busy,” Sadie said after the woman disappeared into the kitchen a minute later.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think of that beforehand, but it does seem like we’d be imposing now, doesn’t it?” Pete said.

  The waitress hadn’t been gone more than thirty seconds before she returned with some plates for the four women tourists, then hurried back into the kitchen again.

  Pete finished off the last of the ribs, and Sadie ate the last pot sticker—even cold, it was her favorite. In fact, she’d liked everything but the ribs that had left her mouth burning. A plate of pork buns was laid on their table, and Sadie looked up expecting to see the waitress. Instead, it was a teenage girl who began gathering their empty plates, not meeting Sadie’s eyes while she cleared the table. The waitress came out of the kitchen with a tray piled with more plates of food at the same time the girl headed into the back. A minute later, the girl reappeared and headed for the register.

  While setting plates down for a young couple sitting in the center of the restaurant, the woman began yelling at the girl at the register in Chinese. At least it sounded like yelling, but then Sadie had always thought Asian languages sounded like yelling so she couldn’t be sure. The girl answered in a softer tone, which caused Sadie to look at the waitress who waved her hand through the air in some kind of gesture Sadie didn’t understand. The girl bent down behind the counter, then stood with a basket of fortune cookies she set near the register. That must have been what the waitress had wanted because she gave a short nod and then finished serving the plates to the guests.

  “Why don’t we leave Ji a note instead of interrupting him,” Sadie said after nodding for Pete to take the last bun. The buns were quite good, though Pete said they weren’t as good as others he’d had. “Then we can walk around for a while and maybe come back when he’s less busy.”

  Before she finished talking, she’d already started rummaging in her purse for paper and a pen. When they went to the register to pay their bill, the girl quickly slid her cell phone she’d been texting on into her pocket, then smiled at Pete and asked if they’d enjoyed their meal. Her English was perfect.

  “It was delicious,” Sadie and Pete said at the same time. The girl smiled shyly and took the check before punching numbers into the register.

  Sadie inspected the items inside the glass case beneath the register while Pete paid the bill. There were a variety of Chinese-themed knickknacks, like painted chopsticks and paper fans. At the bottom of the case were small lacquered boxes that Sadie would have written off as more tourist trinkets if she hadn’t been looking so close. However, she bent down to get a better look and could see the individual brushstrokes—tiny ones—of what seemed to be a hand-painted scene of a stream and a bridge with bamboo on one end and a row of Chinese symbols on the other.

  “These boxes,” Sadie said to the girl when she handed Pete his credit card receipt to sign. “Are they for sale?”

  “Yes.” The girl slid open the back door of the case and removed one of the boxes.

  Sadie ran her hand over the paint and could feel the raised design. On closer inspection, the artwork was even more detailed and fine than she’d first assumed and the box was better crafted. There was no “Made in China” sticker anywhere.

  “This is hand painted?” Sadie asked.

  “Yes,” the girl said as she gave Pete his receipt. “My father paints them.” She tucked her straight black hair, cut bluntly at the shoulder, behind her ear. Sadie noticed a piercing at the top of her left ear. No earring, just the telltale hole.

  “Your father?” Sadie said, suddenly realizing that this could very well be Ji’s daughter, Wendy’s . . . granddaughter. Sadie wasn’t a grandmother yet, but looking at this girl and knowing she shared genes with Sadie’s sister—with Sadie herself—was powerful and somewhat shocking.

  Something Sadie hadn’t thought about in years came to mind, and she looked at the box again. Wendy, for all her difficulties, had been very artistic. An oil painting she’d done had hung in the hallway of their parents’ home for many years. It had taken second place at the county fair when Wendy had been fourteen or fifteen years old. It was because of Wendy’s skill, and Sadie not wanting to compete with her, that Sadie had given up her own interest in art when she was young. She wasn’t as good as Wendy, not ever, but it brought the devil out in her sister when she’d try. And now Sadie held a jewelry box, painted by Wendy’s son—who also shared her blood and heritage. As did this girl standing in front of her. Sadie swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat. “Your father painted this?” Sadie asked for a second time.

  The girl answered with only a nod, but seemed to be looking at Sadie with a bit more interest than she had previously. Perhaps she sensed the emotional reaction Sadie was trying so hard to hide.

  “What does this say?” Sadie asked, pointing at the Chinese symbols.

  “It says ‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’”

  “I’ve heard that quote before,” Pete cut in, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “It’s a Chinese proverb, right?”

  “Well, it was said by the philosopher Lao Tzu, but it has been adopted as a part of Chinese culture. It means that nothing happens if we do nothing.”

  She was an articulate girl, and Sadie immediately liked her. “I love it,” she said, brushing her hand over the top of the box again: Ji’s box. She liked to think that the journey toward forming a relationship with Ji was also beginning. “How much?”

  “Sixty-five dollars. It’s entirely handcrafted. A man here in Chinatown makes the boxes, and my father paints them.”

  Sadie reached into her purse for her wallet, but Pete touched her wrist gently and shook his head. He pulled his own wallet out of his pocket for a second time. Sadie would have argued, but she loved the chivalry, so she thanked him instead.

  The girl removed a
brown paper sack from beneath the counter and began carefully wrapping up the box. As Sadie watched her, she felt the questions bubbling and couldn’t resist asking at least one. “Is your father Ji Doang?”

  The girl looked up at her and nodded.

  Sadie couldn’t help but smile. She put her hand to her chest. “My name is Sadie Hoffmiller. My sister was your grandmother, Wendy.”

  The girl’s face fell, and her eyes went wide, causing Sadie’s smile to falter. This wasn’t happy news? She remembered Ji had said he and Wendy hadn’t been close, and she wondered if perhaps Ji’s daughter didn’t know what had happened to her grandmother. Or perhaps she did know, and Sadie mentioning it had caused this girl some pain. Sadie swallowed and struggled to find a way to save this situation while the girl looked at her with cautious surprise.

  Chapter 6

  Afraid she’d inadvertently crossed a line she hadn’t considered,

  Sadie attempted to repair her smile. “Um, is your father here?”

  The girl finally blinked, but the tension of her reaction didn’t soften much. “He’s cooking.”

  The waitress came up behind them and said something in Chinese. The girl looked past Sadie and answered her, also in Chinese, then pointed to Sadie.

  Sadie and Pete turned toward the waitress, who was balancing a tray of food on one hand. Sadie kept her smile in place but felt increasingly uncomfortable. Why hadn’t she expected anything but a warm welcome when she met Ji and his family?

  The woman came to a stop and looked between them for a few seconds before continuing toward the table she’d come out to serve. Once her tray was empty, she came back to them, the tray tucked under her arm. “Ji is very busy right now. It’s lunchtime. Please find another time to come see him.”

  It was the most words the woman had said to them, and Sadie realized that she didn’t have a Chinese accent at all—rather she spoke a kind of formal English, even though the short sentences she’d used up to this point sounded like the halting English of someone not raised to speak the language. Was that some kind of game she played with the tourist customers? Pretending not to know English very well?

  “When would be a good time to come back?” Pete asked.

  “Wait here. I’ll ask him.”

  She headed for the kitchen, and Sadie reviewed her experience so far at Choy’s. The food was good, but the dining area was run-down, the lighting too bright, the service efficient but lacking in warmth or attentiveness to things like keeping her water glass full and welcoming the customers. Sadie didn’t like to be judgmental, but she almost couldn’t help it. It was also disappointing that Ji’s daughter didn’t seem to know Sadie was coming, and this woman who Sadie suspected might also be a relation didn’t seem the least bit excited to meet them. Did that reflect Ji’s feelings as well?

  “Ma’am?”

  Sadie turned back to the register where the girl was holding out the paper-wrapped jewelry box. She continued to avoid eye contact with Sadie, obviously uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” Sadie said as she took the box.

  “Don’t forget your fortune cookie. Thank you for coming to Choy’s.” She gave a little bow.

  The old men who had been seated when Sadie and Pete arrived came up behind them at the register, so Sadie and Pete took their fortune cookies from the bowl and stepped aside, waiting for the waitress to return. The men said something to the girl in Chinese, and she responded with something that made the men laugh. They said something else, and she shook her head, trying to hide a smile. Her interaction with them made Sadie feel like even more of an outsider. She didn’t belong here. Why had she come?

  The kitchen door swished open, and the waitress came toward them again. She held out her closed hand as though she were going to give Sadie something. When Sadie extended her free hand, the waitress dropped a key ring with two keys into her open palm. Sadie knew instantly what they were: keys to Wendy’s apartment.

  “The larger key is for the building, the smaller one for the apartment,” the woman said. “The complex is on the corner of Mission and 22nd Street. Wendy’s apartment is number five on the third floor. Ji will join you there this afternoon after he has finished the lunch rush. He said that he is sorry not to meet you now and hopes that you understand.”

  “I understand,” Sadie said with a conciliatory smile. “Tell him I look forward to meeting him. I’m Sadie, by the way. This is my fiancé, Pete. Are you by chance Ji’s wife?”

  “Lin Yang,” she said with a slight nod of her head at both of them. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  Sadie wasn’t sure she believed her, but maybe it was a cultural disconnect that gave that impression. She hoped that’s all it was.

  “And is this your daughter?” Pete asked, waving toward the girl who looked at them quickly before turning her attention back to the register.

  “Min,” Lin Yang said. “Our oldest.”

  “Wonderful to meet you,” Pete said to Min. The girl glanced at him quickly and then nodded, her head still down.

  The front door opened, and Lin Yang looked past them toward whoever had entered. “Three?” she said in that clipped way she had. She stepped forward, silently dismissing Pete and Sadie as she did so.

  The four lady tourists began scooting away from their table, which meant the tiny front corner by the register was about to get crowded.

  “We better go,” Sadie said. Pete nodded and held the door for her. Once on the loud and busy sidewalk, Sadie opened her hand and looked at the keys that would take her further into Wendy’s world. Butterflies erupted all over again.

  “You have a deep appreciation for art and music.”

  Sadie turned to look at Pete. “What?”

  He held up a strip of paper. “My fortune—I apparently have a deep appreciation for art and music.” He smiled. “Since I have neither, I’m guessing this is a bum batch of cookies.” He popped the cookie into his mouth and waved to the cookie in Sadie’s other hand. She put the keys in her pocket and opened the plastic package, broke her cookie in half, and pulled out the paper.

  It is time to get moving.

  Sadie read it out loud, and Pete lifted his eyebrows while he continued chewing. She looked at the fortune again and felt a strange tingly sensation, not that she believed that fortunes meant anything at all. Still, she could use the extra motivation.

  “I guess there’s no sense in waiting,” she said, tucking the fortune into the front pocket of her purse. Despite the lack of warmth she’d felt when meeting Lin Yang and Ji’s daughter Min, seeing them had expanded Sadie’s list of reasons for being here. From past experience, Sadie knew that the moment things became about people rather than ideas or possibilities, she was hooked. She wanted to get to know Ji and his family so that future meetings would be more comfortable than this one had been; she also wanted his family to know that Sadie was nothing like her sister.

  There was no sense in procrastinating any longer now that she’d crossed the threshold and gotten a glimpse of the life Wendy’s son lived. He was a family man, an artist, and a hard worker—and he needed her help. They were family, regardless of whether his wife and daughter knew she existed, and Sadie and Pete had come to help.

  She looked up and met Pete’s eyes. He’d been watching her as she’d mentally talked to herself, worked things out, and lined things up. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen the thoughts she hadn’t verbalized play out on her face.

  “You’re ready to do this?” Pete asked.

  “It’s real now,” she said, summing up the mental conclusion she’d reached. “I’m ready.”

  Pete smiled and nodded, and then they fell in step beside one another as they headed toward the parking garage. Pete reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. She smiled up at him; how could she have done any of this without him? They were here. Together. To learn and discover and make a connection. It was time to get moving, and Sadie was ready.

  Chapter 7

  It was still
too early to check into the hotel, so they went directly to Wendy’s apartment instead. On the way, Pete told Sadie several little-known facts about San Francisco, such as how the actor Benjamin Bratt had lived in Alcatraz during the Native American occupation in 1969 and that the cable cars were purchased from all over the world as different countries stopped using them. Each car had a placard explaining where it originally came from. He didn’t talk about Pat, but now and then he went quiet, and Sadie wondered if he were catching himself just in time.

  After driving longer than it seemed it should have taken to cover the distance shown on the GPS map, he slowed the car and pointed out the yellow brick building on the corner. Black letters attached to the exterior read “22nd Street Condominiums.” Sadie felt a tremor run through her as she looked over the building. Wendy had lived here.

  There were shops at street level and two floors of apartments above, everything compact and efficient-looking. A beautiful gothic cornice, painted bright white, wrapped around the roofline of the building, with the fire escape railings arcing over the top. The windows were long and narrow, but bayed from the otherwise flat façade, giving texture and detail.

  The high-rise buildings of the financial district where their hotel was located didn’t exist here. Instead, most buildings weren’t more than three or four stories high, but built together as though all part of the same structure. There weren’t many flower gardens or sitting areas, and the continued cloud cover emphasized the urban feel of the neighborhood. Sadie’s expectations of Wendy’s lifestyle had been low, but this building was much nicer than she’d anticipated it would be. The neighborhood was cleaner and, though she wouldn’t call it upscale, it was a vast improvement over some of the more run-down areas they’d passed through to get here.