CHAPTER
thirty 
LOST IN MY thoughts as I watched Indira leave, I didn’t process the phone ringing near the cash register. Marshmallow finally said, “Mimi, you gonna answer that?”
Then I registered the buzzing noise, walked over to the counter, and picked it up.
“Thank the heavens,” said a female voice on the other end. “I thought you might’ve gone on lunch break already.”
“Nicola?” I said. “Did everything turn out okay?”
“No.” She gave a small hiccup. “Mrs. Dalton fired me.”
“What? But you returned her bracelet.”
“Too late. She said she’d been thinking things over. Because I broke her trust by borrowing the jewelry in the first place, she let me go.”
“But doesn’t she need you to run her schedule? All those charity events . . .”
“She canceled everything this week except for the doga class tomorrow evening.” Nicola’s voice cracked. “She said the peaceful visualizations might help her recover from the emotional turmoil I put her through.”
I glanced at the clock. “Do you want me to drive over to your place right now?”
She almost screamed at me. “No, don’t. I mean, my place is a mess.”
“I don’t mind. You should see my apartment.”
“We can meet up . . . but let’s do the coffee shop around the corner from my place. I need to get out anyway.”
“Fine,” I said. “Give me the name, and I’ll look up the directions.”
When Marshmallow and I arrived at Cup O’ Joe, I saw Nicola already seated at an outside table. She wore a faded T-shirt and hadn’t bothered to comb her hair. Instead, she’d pulled it up into a greasy-looking ponytail.
She didn’t wave at me, or even look up, when I sat down across from her at the aluminum table. Even when Marshmallow meowed from near her feet, she ignored him.
“Tell you what,” I said, signaling to a waiter. “I’ll treat you to lunch today.”
The man came over with a notepad in his hand.
“A whole wheat bagel with cream cheese and lox for me,” I said.
Nicola didn’t even glance at the waiter as he continued to stand there.
“Do you want the same?” I asked her.
“What?” She blinked at me.
The waiter repeated my order, and Nicola blanched. “No, I can’t eat that. Gluten allergies.”
“We have a wonderful potato bread toast,” the waiter said.
“Sure, I’ll take that.”
The waiter whisked away with our orders.
I scratched my head. “What exactly is gluten again?”
In a dry voice, like she’d repeated the facts a thousand times before, Nicola said, “It’s a substance found in cereal grains, especially wheat. Gives dough that elastic feel.”
Russ Nolan and Nicola had bonded over their wheat-free food choices. My mind flashed back to the full trash bin I’d rummaged through in front of his house. Its contents didn’t appear to make sense in light of this detail. “Let me see if I have this right. Russ Nolan couldn’t eat wheat of any kind?”
She shivered. “He’d break into horrible hives. I myself get stomach cramps from gluten.”
But I remembered seeing a giant box of cereal in his trash. “Do you know if he kept shredded wheat in his home?”
She gave me an odd look. “No, why would he?” Then she hung her head and mumbled, “Let’s not talk about Russ anymore. It makes me sad.”
The waiter returned with our food. “Bon appétit, ladies.”
I smeared cream cheese over my bagel and layered on the smoked salmon lox. “What would you like to talk about, then?”
She stared at her potato bread toast with its side tray of various jams and jellies. “Work, maybe? I need to land a new job.”
I gestured around the café. “Have you considered waiting tables? Or being a barista?”
She moaned. “I’m tired of fetching for other people.”
“You’d have a flexible schedule, though.” I bit into my bagel, relishing the filling combination. “Might be helpful for an actress.”
“You’ve got a nice work situation,” Nicola said. “You’re able to close up shop and enjoy lunch in the warm sunshine. You get to make your own hours and—oh.” She started spreading blueberry jam on her toast.
“Looks like you got your appetite back.”
“Well, I just thought of the perfect solution.” She pointed at me with the end of her butter knife. “I can work at Hollywoof. You probably need an extra pair of hands at your store.”
I put my loaded bagel down. “Er, I don’t really have enough business to take on extra staff.”
“No?” A tear slid down the corner of her eye.
I hesitated. In her moment of distress, I thought of Alice and how devastated my sister had felt when she’d been given a pink slip. Besides, Hollywoof’s financial circumstances might change in the future. I softened my response. “Well, let me think on it.”
“I can provide you my résumé after I update it.” She finished her toast with hearty bites and smiled at me.
Marshmallow piped up. “Are you sure that’s wise, Mimi? Didn’t Nicola disappear on us while we talked with Shirl? She never explained what that was all about.”
I stopped eating and called the waiter over so I could pay the bill. Marshmallow was right. Maybe I could ghost Nicola and not actually follow up with her about any sort of employment.
Plus, I realized that Nicola had steered our conversation away from Russ Nolan. Had she changed the topic to avoid her grief—or something else?
When we returned to Hollywoof, I was glad to focus on some simple grooming duties for the rest of the day. I also looked forward to an evening surrounded by people who I could truly trust . . . during Family Game Night.
Josh decided to drive Marshmallow and me over to my parents’ house. It’d make a better show of unity and might also earn him brownie points for escorting me there.
From the back seat, Marshmallow complimented Josh’s car. “Smooth ride,” he said. “You should upgrade your vehicle, Mimi.”
I turned around and gave him a long glare. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a brown grocery bag on the floor tucked behind the driver’s seat. “What’s in there, Josh?”
He flashed me a brilliant smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”
When we arrived at my parents’ house, Josh couldn’t find any open spots on the street. He ended up parking on the driveway.
We walked to the front door with Josh’s right hand holding mine. In his left, he carried the mysterious grocery bag.
When my parents opened the door, I noticed they’d dressed not to impress this time around. No doubt they wanted to give him a message about missing the last Family Game Night.
Ma wore a weathered blouse and slacks, the only nod to her heritage a printed batik scarf wrapped around her neck. Dad wore a comfortable but tattered undershirt. Thank goodness he’d put on regular shorts and not boxers.
In slow, careful English (the kind she used for perfect strangers and people she disliked), Ma said, “You are the boyfriend.” She looked him up and down with a scrunched nose, probably categorizing all the flaws she found with his outer appearance.
Dad gripped Josh’s hand in a stiff handshake. “About time we met.”
When I walked inside the house, I noticed the poor food spread right away. On the table, instead of our usual delicious comfort foods, my parents had put out some odd-flavored snacks: vinegar-soaked peanuts, licorice watermelon seeds, and durian candies. It looked like food trial by fire.
Only Alice greeted Josh with a sweet hug. “Welcome,” she said. “And since you’re the guest of honor, you can pick tonight’s game.”
“Okay. Also, I brought everyone a snack.” He opened up the grocery bag and pulled out a large two-gallon Ziploc. At first glance, it looked like it was full of Chex Mix.
On closer inspection, though, I realized it had an interesting added ingredient: seasoned seaweed. “Me first,” I said, opening the bag and grabbing a handful. The winning combination tasted both sweet and salty. “This stuff is addictive.”
He ducked his head. “I baked the batch myself. It’s furikake snack mix.”
“I call dibs,” I said, taking the bag and adding it to the snack pile on the table.
Dad brought over an empty plastic jug, one that had previously housed mango jelly snacks. “Pennies go in here, and winner takes all.”
We took turns dropping in our loose change. Then Alice directed Josh to the hall closet to select a game.
He returned with Clue. Ugh. We were horrible at figuring out the right suspect. No wonder I had problems doing it in real life.
Whenever we played the board game, it took exhaustive multiple rounds for anyone to win. Ma also always lost. She gave Josh a quick glare before examining the cards she’d been given.
Dad said, “Want to try a snack, Josh?”
Josh looked over the variety spread on the table. Unable to decide which to eat first, his hand hovered above them all.
Ma pushed the plate of candies toward him. “Durian,” she said, again in her careful English. “It is called the king of the Malaysian fruit.”
“Are those the spiky things I see in the produce section of Asian markets?” Josh asked.
“Yup,” I said. The fruit smelled rotten and didn’t taste much better. But he’d find out for himself soon enough.
Popping the candy in, he quickly covered his mouth with one hand.
Alice and I exchanged alarmed glances. He wouldn’t spit it out onto the table, right?
Josh managed to swallow it down whole before saying, “Very distinctive flavor. May I have a glass of water?”
Alice hurried to grab him a drink. After he’d swallowed half the water, we began to play in earnest.
Everyone started guessing a mix of suspects, weapons, and rooms. Josh must have been using a more logical method, because he kept crossing items off his list and narrowing down the identity.
The rest of us probably made random combinations. During the game, Dad scratched his head a lot. Alice squinted at her paper with a frown. Ma scowled, her face getting redder by the minute. I chewed on the tip of my writing pen.
Josh finally sat back and grinned. Noticing the faces around him, though, he stopped short of venturing a winning guess. Instead, he seemed to try to help us by asking specific combinations. Still, we all continued to look puzzled.
Marshmallow whispered, “Do you need my help, Mimi?”
I shook my head.
Josh cleared his throat. Eyebrows waggling, he made a pointed guess. We went around the circle, and nobody had those exact cards.
Oh. Had he given away the actual answer? I waited, uncertain.
Ma also mulled over the combination in her head. Then, with a gleam in her eye, she decided to make the formal accusation using Josh’s answers—and won.
Clutching the money jar, she jingled the coins inside. “I am the winner for once.”
Dad gave Josh a head nod and tried some of the furikake snack mix. “Tasty.” Pointing to Alice and me, he said, “Maybe you other kids should pull your weight and bring snacks over, too.”
Alice shrugged and put the game away in the closet. When she returned, she gave us a glowing smile. “By the way, I have some good news. Principal Hallis told me not to worry about the pink slip. I can keep my job.”
Josh nudged my shoulder. Congratulations flew all around, and everyone seemed in high spirits at the end of the night.
Alice hugged us (and cuddled Marshmallow) goodbye. When we left, my parents embraced me and shook hands with Josh.
Then they stood in the doorway, watching us while I placed Marshmallow in the back of the car. Josh waited until I’d finished and then opened the passenger’s side door for me. As I got in, I saw Dad give him a thumbs-up.
Josh started the engine, and Ma began shouting from the doorstep.
“What’s she saying?” he asked me.
I rolled down my window.
Ma flapped her hands in an urgent manner.
Josh peeked over at me. “Is she saying, ‘Go, Stan’? Did she mix up my name with an old boyfriend of yours?”
“No.” I laughed. “She’s saying, ‘Gostan.’ Like ‘go astern’? She wants to tell you the street is clear and you should back up now.”
“Interesting,” Josh said and started reversing. Ma beamed.
We drove down the street, and Josh said, “How did Family Game Night go? Do you think they like me?”
“You’ve definitely won them over, what with bringing the snack mix and letting Ma take the money jar.” I paused. “Ma approves for certain.”
“What makes you say that?”
I smirked. “She started using her Manglish on you.”