by Liwen Y. Ho
It just wasn’t easy meeting people these days. Sure, the internet provided more options, but sometimes less was more when it came to filtering out the wrong guys. All she desired was someone close in age, handsome, interesting, and financially stable. Above all, honest. How hard could that be to find?
“You’re quiet. Penny for your thoughts?”
Sam looked down at the copper coin Lucas had placed next to her glass of juice. “Huh?”
“You got the penny, Miss Sam. It’s your turn,” Lucy insisted with a serious nod of her head.
“My turn for what?”
“It's our nightly tradition,” Lucas chimed in, “a game our therapist taught us. You’re supposed to tell us your high and low for the day.”
“Something you liked and something you didn’t like. Do you want me to go first?” Lucy asked before licking her milk mustache off. “You don’t have to copy me.”
“Sure thing, girlie. Tell me your high and low.”
Lucy scrunched her nose up as she thought. “My high is getting to eat lots of cake today.”
“What about the dollhouse I gave you?” Lucas asked with an exaggerated pout.
“Daddy, I wasn’t done." Lucy made a soft tap tap sound with her plastic fork as she pounded it like a gavel on the wooden table. “And playing with my friends. And getting a dollhouse.”
“That’s good. I was wondering if I’d need to return your present.”
“Daddy! No returning my present.” She gave Lucas a stern look before she turned to Sam. “My best high is Miss Sam eating dinner with us.”
Sam returned her smile. “Guess what? You said I didn’t need to copy you, but that’s mine, too. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn't think you were so easy to please.”
“I can assure you that whatever impressions you have of me are likely wrong. I don’t ask for much. As long as the conversation is interesting, I’m good. I'm actually a cheap date,” Sam retorted, immediately regretting her choice of words. “Not that this is—never mind.” She waved her hand in an attempt to dismiss her last sentence.
“I'll have you know this is organic pasta and wild shrimp. I only use the best ingredients in my cooking.”
“Of course you do. Duly noted, Chef Choi.” She noticed Lucy looking at them in wonder. “Hey, back to you, girlie. You weren’t done sharing.”
“Yes, sweetheart. That's four highs for you today, a record. What’s your low?”
The little girl's shoulders slumped as she looked down at her bowl, and she said in a voice barely above that of a whisper, “Not having Mommy here.”
Lucas took hold of his daughter’s hand, enveloping her dimpled fingers with his large palm. “Me, too. I miss Mommy, too. She would be so proud of you, baby girl. She would ...”
The way his voice faltered told Sam he didn't know how to console his daughter. She decided to jump in. “You know something, Luce? I went to school with your mommy many years ago.” Sensing a spark of interest in Lucy’s eyes, she continued, “You remind me so much of her. She was kind to everyone she met. She had a great fashion sense and liked to wear her hair in braids, just like you. Your smile looks like hers.”
Lucy tilted her head to one side as thought. She climbed down from the chair she had been kneeling on and walked over to the refrigerator. Pointing to a photo displayed on the stainless steel door, she nodded. “My smile is like Mommy’s.”
Sam walked over and stood next to her. She gazed at the picture held in place by a heart-shaped magnet. A blonde woman holding a newborn baby wrapped in a pink blanket beamed back at her. “I told you so.” Turning to face Lucy, she squatted to her eye level. “Whenever you miss your mom, Luce, just remember that her smile is always with you. You just need to look in the mirror and you’ll see her.”
Lucy nodded eagerly.
The adoring look on her face caused a dull ache in Sam's chest. Hot tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath before she could speak again. “I’m ready for something sweet. Didn’t you say we have ice cream cake, Lucas?”
“Yes, we do, but we need to finish our dinner first.”
“Seriously? You are so uptight. Live a little. It doesn’t hurt to break the rules once in a while.” She reached for Lucy’s hand and led her back to their seats. “Come on, Luce, just a few more bites. Then we can have more of that yummy cake you love.”
The young girl placed a forkful of pasta in her mouth and slurped up the long, thin noodles. After she had swallowed, she stated, “Daddy’s a policeman. He makes people follow rules.”
“Yep, he sure does like doing that.”
“Did you know people who don’t follow rules go to jail?”
Sam pursed her lips, having just bit into a large piece of garlic. The pungent flavor shocked her taste buds, much like how Lucy’s question had broken the peacefulness of the evening. Any trace of sympathy she had for the man grinning at her was gone. “I know that all too well, Lucy.”
* * *
Lucas stopped in his tracks in the doorway to the kitchen. The view before him lodged a lump in his throat. It had been a year since any woman besides his mother-in-law had stepped inside his house. Seeing Sam in front of the sink brought a tangible reminder of what he missed with Lauren gone. It was the little things, the assurance of having someone to do everyday life with. Simple things such as preparing a meal together or watching their favorite show until they fell asleep in front of the TV. Even more, he missed the intimacy that those moments offered. The way he used to sneak a kiss on the nape of Lauren’s neck as she chopped vegetables. Or the way she snaked her leg between his when they sat on the couch.
But he had a hard time imagining those moments with someone new. The pain of losing his wife was still fresh. It would take a very special woman to be able to replace her, not that he could ever replace her. No one could ever take Lauren’s place as his partner and Lucy’s mother. He was thankful, however, for this woman who had come into his daughter’s life at the right time and provided her with the comfort he couldn’t.
He was learning a lot about the woman Sam had become, and perhaps she was right. He did have some misconceptions about her. Despite her unique taste in hairstyle and clothing, she had a lot going on inside of her that showed depth and—dare he say it—maturity. From what his mother-in-law told him, she demonstrated a great amount of patience in coaxing Lucy out of her shell. And her simple words earlier had instilled hope in his daughter’s heart again. He couldn’t thank her enough.
He walked over and rested one elbow on the granite countertop. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t make my guests work for their meals,” he joked. “I always clean up after Lucy goes to bed.”
“No problem, I’m about done. I’m used to doing grunt work at my parents’ restaurant. I’m just not used to so much metal.” She aimed a handful of forks and knives in his direction. “We only give out chopsticks and a few serving spoons.”
He raised his hands. “Why don’t you set those down. I’ll take care of them.”
“Do you want me to back away slowly, too?” She took the heads of the utensils with her other hand and pointed the handles in his direction. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
“One can never be too careful,” he quipped as he took them from her.
She wiped her hands on her shorts and stepped away. “But one can be too paranoid.”
“I heard that, Sammie Koo.” He gave her a pointed look as he picked up another handful of utensils from the sink before bending over the dishwasher. He took care in placing each fork, spoon and knife into different slots of the utensil holder.
Sam scowled. “Are you sorting them by type?”
He dropped the last spoon into place and straightened. “Of course. It makes the process of putting them away more efficient.” He grunted, then picked up a plate from the lower rack and placed it on the top one. He rearranged the rest of the di
shes until all the plates and bowls faced the same direction. With a satisfied smile, he added a detergent packet, closed the door, and turned the machine on. “All set.”
Crossing her arms over her halter top, she glared at him.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I spent ten minutes loading the dishwasher and you just changed it all. What was wrong with the way I did it?”
“Nothing. I just have a certain method that makes sense to me.”
“My way wasn’t good enough?”
“I didn’t say that. But, to be honest, my way is better.” He couldn’t help it. Goading Sam was not the most mature thing for him to do, but it was so enjoyable. And the way her cheeks flushed in annoyance made her look even more beautiful. His chest tightened. He hadn’t thought of a woman in that way since Lauren. Was it a sign of healing ... or hormones? It was more than he wanted to think about. He decided to change the subject. “Say, how are you with a screwdriver?”
“Huh?”
“Want to give me a hand with Lucy’s dollhouse? I promised her I’d get it done tonight. The reviews said it could take a couple of hours to put together. I’m hoping it’ll go much faster with two people.”
She tilted her head toward the dishwasher. “Are you sure you trust my method if you didn’t approve of what I did with that?”
“I’ll take my chances. I believe everyone’s got a method to their madness.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Mr. OCD.” She sneered. “Sure, why not, I don’t have anything waiting for me at home.”
“Great. This should be fun.”
Sam smiled. “As long as I get to supervise.”
Lucas led her into the living room where a large box with the words Majestic Mansion across it sat propped against the couch. They opened it and began dumping out the contents until pieces of wood and plastic bags littered the hardwood floor. The next hour and a half was spent gluing the color coded and numbered parts together. One by one, they stacked the four stories of the house on top of each other until the roof reached Sam’s shoulder. Lastly, Lucas tested the working elevator and garage door to make sure they moved properly.
“This is insane. Eight rooms and thirty-four pieces of furniture?” Sam stared at the finished house. “All I played with as a kid were some dolls I made from paper.”
Lucas stepped back to admire their handiwork. “I may have gone a little overboard with this present, but after all that Lucy's been through, I wanted to do something big.” He sat down on the couch and rested his forearms on his lap. Sighing, he asked, “Do you think it's too much?”
“Nah, it was a good pick.” She took a seat next to him and tucked one leg underneath her. “If you're going to spoil a kid, you might as well do it on her birthday.”
“Well, I would do anything to make her smile.” He stared at the dollhouse, going over the events of the past year in his mind, until his focus blurred. All the days they used to celebrate as a family had turned into somber reminders of Lauren's absence. It was a lot for him to handle; he couldn't imagine how a child could process it all. “For a while I thought I had lost her, too. She shut everyone out after Lauren died.” Running one hand through his dark hair, he turned to Sam. “Then she met you. Now when she’s sad she’s able to tell me about it, and when she doesn’t want to talk, she draws. I’ve been meaning to come by your studio to thank you, Sammie. Thank you for giving my daughter back to me. Please consider the meal tonight as a small token of my appreciation.”
“It was no biggie. I was just doing my job. You make me sound like a savior or something.”
Lucas laughed, breaking the somber mood. “Not a savior, maybe a saint.” He sat back and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Did you ever think back in high school about what your life would be like? Is it anything like how you imagined?”
“Well, if you mean did I ever think you and I would build a four-foot-tall dollhouse together and not kill each other in the process? Then, no.”
“What did you expect? I couldn't get on your bad side while you were wielding a hot glue gun. I still have nightmares about the time you spilled hydrochloric acid on my hand.”
“Oh, come on, you big baby. It was diluted and you had gloves on.” She lifted his hand off the couch and pretended to inspect it. “Don't tell me it left a scar?”
Without thinking, he closed his hand around hers and stroked his thumb across her smooth skin. The feeling of their fingers laced together sent his heart racing. He didn't know what had compelled him to grab her hand, but he was kind of glad he had. His contentment, however, was short-lived. Sensing her body stiffen, he promptly let go. “Sorry,” he coughed out, “must be my cop reflexes working overtime.”
* * *
Sam clenched her hand into a fist and tried to ignore the warm tingles spreading up her arm. Over the course of the day, it had become more apparent that being near Lucas left her bothered. Okay, maybe it was more like hot and bothered. Even though he drove her crazy, she was drawn to him for some inexplicable reason. She always had been. Maybe the ticking of her biological clock had turned her into an irrational teenager again. Remember who you’re dealing with. “You were always out to catch people. Is that why you became a cop? So you could catch bad guys for a living?”
“On the contrary, I joined the force because I wanted to protect the good ones.” He turned in his seat to face her. “I have you to thank for that.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I meant what I said about the grad party. I was trying to protect you. When I was getting ice in the kitchen, I overheard a guy say he had slipped something into the beer kegs.” A vein throbbed in his temple and his face flushed. “I didn't know much about roofies then, but I knew enough about the guys hosting the party to know they were trouble.”
“That's why you kept telling me to drink soda.” Sam spoke quietly as she digested Lucas's words. “And why you kept trying to take my cup away.”
“You were too stubborn for your own good. When you wouldn’t listen, I called my neighbor, the cop. He said he’d come and break up the party. I just wanted to keep you and the other girls safe. You getting arrested was an unintentional bonus. I’m sorry that happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I was furious! An explanation would’ve been nice.”
“I tried. You wouldn’t return my calls, remember? The one time I showed up at your house—”
“Oh yeah,” she cut in, “it’s all coming back to me now. I slammed the door in your face.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “But in my defense, if I had known you were watching out for me, I wouldn’t have been so rude.”
Lucas stared at her for a moment before his whole body started shaking with laughter. Once he caught his breath, he remarked, “You’re something else, Sammie Koo. Even if I had told you the beer was spiked, you would’ve drunk it just to spite me.”
She gritted her teeth, both hating and liking the fact that he knew her so well. “You’re probably right. I guess we were always at odds.”
“Well, now that you know the whole story, what do you think? All is forgiven? Can we start fresh?”
“After you just laughed your head off at me?” Her tone sounded annoyed, but she was secretly pleased to see him so happy. When he laughed, his whole demeanor relaxed and reminded her of the teenage boy she had once loved. “I don’t know …”
“I was laughing with you, not at you.”
“Ha ha, not!” She emphasized the last word with an eye roll. “Good try, Officer Choi, but last I checked, lying is a no-no.”
“Now you’re trying to keep me in line. I see my positive traits are rubbing off on you.” He stuck out his hand. “Come on, you know you want to be friends with me. How about we call a truce.”
“A truce?”
“No more arguing or thinking the worst of each other. Let’s work on being friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yes, friends. For Lucy’s sake?�
�
“You had to throw her into this, didn’t you? Okay, fine, I’ll do it for Lucy.” She smirked. “Truce.”
She inched her hand toward his, knowing full well she didn’t need any more information to convince her that Lucas was one of the good guys. Besides, shaking hands meant she would get to touch him again, and that was reason enough for her to make nice with the enemy.
Chapter 5
“No, no, no.” Sam tried flipping on the studio lights again. Nothing. “But they promised to give me another month!” She dropped her belongings on the floor. “What am I gonna do? Class starts in an hour,” she groaned to the empty room. Ever since she let Monica go the previous week, she had gotten into the habit of talking to herself at work. That was just one sign that things were heading downhill.
No doubt her situation was deteriorating faster than acrylic paint dripping down a canvas. Here she was sitting in a darkened room, two weeks away from being evicted, and she still hadn’t thought of a way out. She dug her hand into her purse and pulled out her phone. Groaning in frustration, she made the call she should have made months ago.
“Ma? Hi, it’s me,” she announced in a mixture of broken Cantonese and English. “Yes, your middle, still single daughter. Listen, Ma. I need your help. Can I borrow some money for rent? No, not the apartment, for work.” A long pause ensued during which Sam paced back and forth across the wooden floor. “Yes, I already owe you and Ba money, and I promise to pay you back. Just one more time. Please, Ma,” she pled. “Is Ba there? Can I talk to him?” She fisted her hand and tried to keep her voice even. “Wait, you want me to do what? Never mind, I'll figure it out myself!”
“Everything okay?”
