Twenty-Eight

Aunt Evelyn vowed to reopen the shop after lunch and a quick trip to Ines’s bakery for another box of madeleines. We walked together to a nearby quiet Vietnamese restaurant.

The translucent wrap of the cold rolls transformed their contents into an impressionistic painting of greens and oranges alongside grilled sugarcane sticks carrying fried shrimp paste as tasty appetizers. Thin cuts of lemongrass-spiced pork chops, barbecued to perfection, were paired with colorful Vietnamese fried rice. Over a spread of gỏi cuốn, chạo tôm, grilled pork chops, and cơm chiên, we discussed the origins of Auntie Gloria and Auntie Ning’s feud. A bit of family gossip helped ease the tension between us.

“Those two have such a rivalry because they have similar tastes,” Aunt Evelyn explained.

When we were young, the cousins and I were shuttled around to various practices. Donna Summer blared from both aunties’ minivans. They enjoyed collecting ceramics and watching soap operas, and both volunteered at the local women’s shelter. With so many overlapping interests, they should have been best friends.

“I can see that, but they don’t really hang out.”

“Ning and Gloria will insult each other to us, but if anyone outside of the family ever insults the other, she’ll defend them to the death. It’s the family way.”

“When did this start?”

“High school. They both tried winning Donna Summer concert tickets on the radio. Ning won. Gloria insisted that Ning cheated, but she couldn’t prove anything. It was the same year they both had a crush on Tom Lau, the quarterback, which didn’t help matters. Gloria won that battle. Years later, we found out both had cheated, and how they did it.”

I let out a scandalized gasp.

“I think at this point, the two quarrel out of habit, or for appearance’s sake. There’s a lot of love there, and we all know it.” She paused to pluck another piece of salad roll from her plate. “I do miss them. All of them. When you go back home, it’ll be more lonely than what I had imagined.”

“Don’t you have friends here?”

“Ines’s family, and some shopkeepers at the farmers’ market I’m friendly with.”

Aunt Evelyn made friends easily, but always withheld a part of herself. She had effortless charm, and a grace that disarmed everyone. Getting to know her, however, proved to be a challenge. Auntie Faye said Aunt Evelyn’s admirers called her “the Dream” because she was too beautiful to be real and impossible to attain.

“Then it won’t be as bad. Of course, you’ll miss the weekly gatherings and various occasions, but you’ll be back for the major holidays, right?”

“Yes, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and a week or so in the summer. I’ll be available after I’ve hired help for the shop.”

I helped myself to more of the fried rice. “Since you know Ines’s family, what do you know about her and Luc?”

“Their relationship is complicated.”

“Why? They look like they genuinely care for each other.”

“His parents have chosen a girl for him to marry. It’s a merging of families—his family owns a small chain of grocery stores, while the bride-to-be’s are wealthy organic farmers. Ines’s family are bakers: they tend to only marry other bakers.”

“I’m sure there’s a way. They belong together.”

“Don’t interfere, Vanessa.” My aunt’s warning tone mirrored Ma’s. “You can’t toy with people’s lives. We are fortune-tellers—our role is to observe.”

I held my tongue and noted that she didn’t approve of my matchmaking plans. No need to keep her updated then. After all, she was an expert on secrets: it would be hypocritical for her to ask me to divulge mine.

I switched the topic. “What was Great-Aunt Charlotte like?”

“You two would have gotten along well,” my aunt laughed. “You both have much in common. She, too, rebelled against our lack of a red thread. Spent her life trying to deny it. She never married, and the few, short relationships she did have ended poorly.”

Great-Auntie “Char” was a notorious eccentric who died before I was born. She drove a 1970 lime-green Plymouth Barracuda with hot-pink leather seats and racked up a mile-long paper trail of speeding tickets. She was a powerful clairvoyant, and her visions helped the fortunes of the Yu family.

“She didn’t die, like, in a strange way, did she?”

“She died in her sleep at eighty-nine with a bottle of Macallan on her nightstand. She was known to take a shot before bed. Fortune-tellers in our family live long lives.”

“How many fortune-tellers are out there?”

Aunt Evelyn cut her pork chop into bite-size strips. “It’s two per family, and three on rare occasions.”

“But you were the only one left after Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Beverly died,” I protested.

“Yes.” Aunt Evelyn smiled. “And then you were born.”

We finished up lunch and headed to Ines’s bakery side by side. Ahead of us, Luc had parked his white Peugeot van on a side street and was gathering his delivery for Ines.

“Go in without me,” I said. “There’s something I saw back there that I have to take a picture of for Auntie Gloria.”

“Gloria doesn’t need more knickknacks.” My aunt made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t take too long.”

I headed down the street and pretended to admire a stained glass lamp in a store window. When she entered the bakery, I hustled to Luc’s van. The rear double doors swung open. He was holding a worn wooden crate in his arms, full of bags of flour and blocks of butter.

“Hi. I hope you speak English.” I smiled and waved.

“I do. I recognize you from the bakery. Can I help you?”

“Actually, I wanted to help you.”

And with those words, I set my matchmaking machinations into play.