by Lee, Nadia
Someone sat down next to him, and he saw that it was Sandy with a sturdy looking Korean guy who she introduced as “Eugene, my husband.” Then she leaned over and whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“Appearing to be a good Christian,” he said. “You?”
She chuckled softly. “The same. Do you understand anything out of the minister’s mouth?”
“No, but you shouldn’t tempt me into conversation while he’s lecturing about the state of our souls. Or…something. Brooke said the Hags would talk.”
“Oh jeez. She cares about what they say way too much. They’re a gaggle of old ladies with no life. Never happy unless they’re making somebody else feel like crap.”
“Sounds like a pleasant bunch. Very Christian, too.”
“Don’t worry. If they come after you, I’m sure Brooke can defend you.”
Pete raised a skeptical eyebrow. So far this morning he’d seen a very different side of Brooke: meek and polite. He wasn’t sure what Sandy was thinking, but he wasn’t sure if Brooke would suddenly change into someone fierce and scary just for him…though the idea definitely had possibilities.
* * *
After the sermon ended—finally!—Brooke waited in line with Pete, Sandy and Eugene to get cold and spicy noodles for lunch. The church always served lunch after the morning service, and older ladies’ groups took turns preparing the meals. Almost everyone stayed for lunch since it was free and gave people another chance to socialize.
Brooke wasn’t all that interested in catching up with people she wasn’t that close to, but she didn’t feel like making anything for lunch, and the cold noodles would be super fast and keep her satisfied through the afternoon.
“Uh-oh. Incoming,” Sandy whispered into Brooke’s ear.
It was Mrs. Han, the Lead Hag. In her mid-fifties, she had short graying hair teased into the shape of a nimbus around her soft, round face. She had pretty eyes, black and almond-shaped, behind horn-rimmed glasses, but her lips were almost nonexistent, so the red lipstick she habitually wore looked like smeared ketchup.
“Hello, Brooke. Long time no see!” Mrs. Han said.
Brooke’s antenna immediately went up. Mrs. Han was never this friendly unless she wanted something. “Hello. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you, my dear. And who is this handsome man? So tall too. Your fiancé?”
She clenched her jaw. The old bat knew she didn’t have a fiancé. “No. He’s a friend.”
“Ah. Friend.”
Mrs. Han’s tone put her teeth on edge.
“It’s just surprising to see somebody like him here,” the older lady continued. “It’s not like our church has a lot of non-Koreans.”
Brooke pulled her lips in what she hoped she could pass off as a friendly smile. “Since you speak English so well, maybe you can help him get introduced and all.”
“Oh, nonsense. You tease me so.” She cackled in protest. “What does he do?”
“He’s an analyst at an investment advisor firm.”
“He must be doing well for himself.” It was a question.
“I’m sure he is.” Brooke would have bet a year’s pay that Mrs. Han had heard about Pete’s Mercedes already.
“How old is he? He looks quite young. Are you two the same age?”
“He’s a little younger.”
“Really? By how much?”
“Three years.”
“Ah, then that makes him at least five years younger than you. Mentally I mean. You know men stay immature for so long. That’s why we women usually go for ones who are at least a couple of years older. Otherwise it’s like trying to live with a child in an adult’s body.”
Brooke couldn’t believe the woman’s gall. “That’s not true of all men. Pete’s much more mature than I am.”
Mrs. Han’s voice rose to a grating falsetto. “I was just saying…well, based on my experience…you know.”
“Ah yes, your husband is a bit older, isn’t he? And you have two sons after all. But your family can’t speak for the whole male gender. A little unfair to other men, don’t you think?”
The older woman’s eyes almost bugged out. Brooke felt Sandy cover her mouth with her hand. Eugene looked slightly stunned.
Mrs. Han cleared her throat. “I see how it is then. I think somebody’s calling me. Please excuse me.”
Brooke watched the woman go, feeling a little breathless. Sandy giggled. “I had no idea you had that in you.”
“Neither did I.” Brooke took Pete’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said in English.
“But we’re about to get our noodles,” he said.
“I’m suddenly not in the mood for Korean. How about a Big Mac? You don’t mind, do you?”
Pete took one look at her face and shook his head. “No problem. But if you want a burger, we can do a lot better than Mickey D’s.”
Chapter Ten
PETE TOOK BROOKE to a hole-in-the-wall local brewery that had killer burgers and spicy curly fries that would make you sell your mother. The hostess recognized him—he was a regular—and took them to a table for two by a large window that overlooked the microbrewery setup.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked after they sat down. Brooke hadn’t said anything, and a dark frown creased her brow.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I told Mrs. Han what I told her.”
“Did something happen? I, ah, couldn’t quite follow.”
At that moment their waiter came. He ordered the house specialty burger with fries and a dark raspberry beer, and she did the same without bothering to glance at the menu.
When the waiter disappeared, Brooke said, “Mrs. Han was trying to worm out some information about you. She’s the Lead Hag, and she doesn’t really like me. She once tried to set me up with her younger son, and I turned her down.”
Pete chuckled.
“Don’t laugh. She thinks her sons can do no wrong, and she still believes she was doing me a favor. Her pride couldn’t handle it that I said no.”
“I see.”
“She asked me about your age, and I told her you were three years younger, then she said that was really equal to five years younger because men are supposedly less mature than women.” Brooke’s voice gained a bit of volume and heat.
“Whatever.” Pete made some soothing noises, unsure exactly what had gotten her so agitated. She’d been saying all along that their age difference, along with the fact that he was Amandine’s brother, was a problem.
“I hated it that she said that,” Brooke continued. “How would she know you’re a typical guy? How does she even know what a typical guy is? The old prune probably never even dated anyone except her husband.”
“I thought my age was one of the issues for you,” he said carefully.
“It’s not the same thing. She has no right to talk about you that way. You’re a hell of a lot more mature than any of my exes, and none of them were younger than me.”
Warmth spread from his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. “So you …defended me?”
“Hell yeah. I put the Korean bitch-slap on her.”
“That’s hot.” He gazed at her with new appreciation. “Oh, and thanks.”
“Aaaaahhhhh.” She made fists with her hands on the table and rested her forehead on them. “Now I can never go back to church,” she said into her placemat.
“The Brooke I know wouldn’t be this upset about speaking her mind.”
“The Brooke you know is not the Brooke who goes to church. It’s a cultural thing. You can’t talk back to your elders, you know what I’m saying? It makes my parents look bad, and my dad being a widower and all, people will say he’s raised me all wrong.” She sighed. “He’ll be so disappointed if he hears about it from one of the uncles.”
Their beers showed up, and Pete took a draught. “You might be surprised,” he said. “He’s not totally immersed in the super conservative Korean
culture, right? I mean, he’s not even Korean.”
She said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed a bit.
“If that lady is as bad as you say, she’d probably find a way to bring you down no matter who you date. But who cares? She’s not your mom, and you don’t have to see her ever again.”
She raised her head and looked at the table. “You ordered two beers?”
“No. This one’s yours.”
“Oh.” She took a tentative sip. “Hey, this isn’t bad.”
“‘Not bad’? It’s great.”
“I’m not much of a beer drinker. But I like this one.” Suddenly her brow creased. “I don’t even remember ordering this.”
“Uh, you ordered the same thing I did…”
“Oh crap.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” He smiled. “I happen to have great taste.” Especially in women. And he was lucky the one he adored seemed to like him back.
Defended him against the Lead Hag.
Maybe that meant she no longer cared about their age difference. Okay, so she was still a bit worried about how Amandine might react to their relationship, but he was optimistic about that as well—his sister was an incurable romantic at heart, and wouldn’t stand in their way.
He might not have worried after all. How could Brooke not reciprocate at least a little bit when his heart felt like it would explode with love every time he thought of her, looked at her, heard her voice or felt her touch?
It wasn’t a charitable thought, but he was glad Amandine and Gavin had experienced marital troubles. Without their relationship teetering on the edge, he might not have gotten the push he needed to go for it. He’d kept telling himself a little more time, a little more time. Hell, he’d been planning to wait another year before asking Brooke out. What a colossal waste that would have been.
After lunch, he dropped her off at her apartment—she insisted on changing out of the funereal black—and drove to Amandine’s place. Gavin was out of town this weekend to have yet another meeting with his brother Ethan about the family business, which still seemed to be in a bit of trouble.
Luna took him to Amandine’s studio. Normally she’d be perched on her stool, but the humble wooden seat was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was half-buried in a plushy armchair in front of a still-in-progress painting, her work shirt and shorts covered with old paint stains that nothing could remove.
Amandine’s face lit up, and she waved. “Hey.”
“Hey, you. How’s my nephew?”
Her free hand flew to her belly. “He’s doing great, thanks. My work stool’s behind those canvases.” She gestured to his right. “Take it.”
He pulled it out and sat. It had little butt support and nothing for the back. No wonder she wasn’t using it anymore. She could spend hours and hours in the studio, working.
“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, putting down her brush.
“What, I can’t visit my sister just because?”
“You’re busy, and I know you’re currently seeing someone.”
“You do?” Had Brooke broken the news already?
“Yeah. You have that look that says you’re romancing somebody right now.”
“Ha.”
“You’re my brother. It’s not that difficult to tell.”
“Well…as it happens, you’re right.”
“I knew it! Okay, who? Tell me about her.”
“Brooke.”
Amandine’s facial muscles slowly slackened. “Brooke? You mean, my Brooke?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god.” Amandine stared at him for a few moments, blinking. “I thought she seemed distracted, but I figured it was the extra work she had to do for the nursery. How…? When…?”
“It goes all the way back to high school.”
“You’ve been dating since high school!?”
“Well, no. But, uh, there was this one time…” Pete took her through the story.
“Oh my god, my baby brother.” Amandine’s eyes widened as she connected the dots. “So that’s why you were so worried about leaving L.A.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, resisting the impulse to hang his head. “Sorry I was so selfish. But I couldn’t think of anything except the fact that all my plans would be ruined.” He hooked his feet on the stool’s rungs. “I was going to grow up, become a successful man who could provide for her, then ask her out and sweep her off her feet. My nine-year plan.”
“Why nine?”
“I didn’t think I could do it in eight, and a decade just seemed like too long.”
She laughed. “Okay. So when you thought I was divorcing Gavin and you might lose your job over it, you panicked.”
“Basically. But it wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own that I was in the situation. I should’ve been confident enough to make my move earlier.”
“Well…maybe you were overcompensating.”
“Overcompensating? For what?”
“Um…Dad?” Amandine cleared her throat. “I’ve thought about what you said. And you were right.”
Pete raised a surprised eyebrow. His older sister was a firm believer of their father’s good intentions. If nothing else, it was true that he’d loved his wife, so that made his irresponsible ways forgivable.
“If he’d wanted to own his love for us, he would’ve tried harder to provide for the family, instead of relying on in-law charity. Saying ‘I love you’ was great, but it wasn’t enough.”
Pete nodded, absorbing this, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Then he said, “Brooke’s kind of worried about your reaction.”
“To what?”
“The whole ‘us dating’ thing.”
She frowned. “What? Why?”
“Well, you know. It’s a little awkward for her, what with me being her best friend’s younger brother and all.”
“Oh, whatever. It’s none of my business, but if you guys care about how I feel, I say go for it. Who am I to judge so long as it’s what you want?”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Just be careful, Pete. Brooke doesn’t do long-term dating.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that impression. I’m working on it.”
* * *
Brooke and Pete arrived a little late to the dinner, thanks to a minor fender-bender that had congested the road. Seriously, people who drove without paying attention shouldn’t be allowed on the streets, Brooke thought. It made life harder for everyone.
Sandy’s house had several cars parked out in front. All the lights on the first level were on.
Brooke and Pete went in. Sandy popped her head out of the kitchen and said, “Hi, guys. Brooke, can you help me in here?”
“Sure. Just let me introduce Pete to everyone.”
Brooke took him to the living room where her father and his friends sat on two big, worn sofas. Sandy’s toddler girl was with the guests, flirting outrageously with them for attention. Her dad was in the center of the group, his arms spread along the back of the sofa. Gray highlighted his short, cropped hair, but the festive mood erased years from him. Brooke went over and kissed him on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Dad.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
“You remember Pete? Amandine’s brother?” she said.
“’Course I remember! Long time, no see,” he said, sticking his hand out.
Pete took it firmly. “Good to see you again, sir.”
Her father moved over, making some room. “Grab something to drink and come sit down. We’ve got beer and wine. If you want, there’s some Coke too, I think.”
Brooke left Pete and went into the kitchen. Sandy glanced over the counter at the men and said, “Looks like everything’s fine out there.”
“Yeah.” Brooke looked at the mountain of food. White plates covered every inch of the kitchen table, each one holding a different type of Korean or Italian dish. One had a pile of her father’s favorite soft green rice cakes; each one, she knew, was filled with sweet honey that wo
uld ooze out after the first bite. Another had glass noodles, the spicy garlic aroma making her mouth water. Still another held barbecue marinated beef; another had some sort of twisty pasta.
“Wow. Did you make all this?”
“Are you high? I catered the whole thing except for the pasta,” Sandy said. “No time to cook a bunch of stuff—you know how things are with the business. I needed a new bookkeeper like two months ago, but can’t find anybody decent.”
“What about Eugene?”
Sandy snorted. “He’s even worse at it than I am. So I’m stuck until I can hire somebody new.
Brooke and Sandy laid everything out on the dining room table, including a birthday cake. Everyone abandoned the couches for the dining room. Brooke looked at her father’s face over the lit candles. He was already sixty-four.
He’d spent over fifteen years alone as a widower, never having had time to meet somebody new after his wife had passed away. He’d been too busy working and providing for his two daughters. And never once in all those years had he complained about being lonely or tired of his responsibilities or anything. He’d taken on the burden of dealing with Sandy and Brooke’s grief over losing their mother. Their grandmother had helped out, but Brooke knew how much her dad had sacrificed for them.
When the song ended, he blew out the candles. Everyone clapped. Brooke followed suit, blinking away sudden tears.
Dad, I love you.
Everyone started eating and serving food, including the cake. The older generation didn’t believe in saving sweets for last.
“When you’re my age, you know you better take what you want when you want it,” her father said, helping himself to another serving of beef and cake while shunning the vegetables. “Clock’s a-tickin’.”
“So Pete, what do you do?” one of the men asked.
“I’m an investment manager.” When he got a slightly puzzled look, he said, “I invest for other people and manage their money.”
“Retirement funds?”
