by Caroline Lee
Instead of dollars, Lin had printed up special coupons for The Golden Palace, and had just finished cutting them all up. Now she had to fold them nicely and slide them into the envelope, along with the little slip of paper with Brandon and Mr. Lee’s explanation for the envelopes.
It was all part of the plan to educate the town of Riston on Chinese cultural traditions. They’d had a big “Happy New Year!” banner printed up for outside, and had already decorated the restaurant with plenty of “2018: Year of the Dog!” paraphernalia. The red lanterns would be arriving tomorrow—Thank goodness for Amazon Prime, as that crazy old lady had said last week. Lin and Jared had been practicing how to say “Gung hay fat choy!”—coached by Mr. Lee and Brandon—and were ready to teach their patrons everything they knew about Chinese New Year.
It was up to Lin—and Brandon’s bao—to entice Valentine’s diners to the restaurant on Friday. And to do that, Brandon had had a brilliant brainstorm, which is why this was the second night in a row Lin was sitting at her coffee table with a paper cutter while she spoke to her sister.
“What happened to the thingies from yesterday?” Toni asked. “Are you re-doing them now?”
“No. Yesterday’s little slips of paper were for fortune cookies.” Lin moved some papers around until she found one of yesterday’s rejects. “See? Brandon had the brilliant idea to make our own fortune cookies for tomorrow’s dinner. We’ll serve the bao and the fortune cookies, which we spent all morning today baking and folding. They come out of the oven flat and really hot, so you pop in the fortune and fold them before they cool. I am now an expert at rolling fortune cookies.”
Toni flopped back on the carpet once more. “That seems like a super-useful talent, Lin-Lin. You should put it on your resume.”
“Thank you.” Lin bowed sarcastically.
“So what do the fortune slips say?”
Lin read the one she was holding. “Finding true love is indeed fortunate. Celebrate your good fortune at The Golden Palace this Friday with our special Chinese New Year menu! Gung Hay Fat Choy!”
“Wow!” From her spot on the floor, Toni began to do sit-ups, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “That’s Chinese? You’re speaking Chinese?” she grunted out. “I’m impressed.”
“I sound authentic now, huh?”
“Da,” Toni agreed in Russian to be funny.
Lin just smiled. “I’ve been learning all sorts of things about Chinese culture from Brandon.”
Toni snorted. “I’ll just bet you have,” she said in between sit-ups.
“Like the fact that green eyes are lucky.”
Her sister stopped in the upright position, her brows up. “Mr. Dimples said that?” She peered at the camera—at Lin’s green eyes—and smiled. “I think he’s got it bad for you, Lin-Lin.”
Shrugging, Lin looked down at the red envelopes. “I’ve got it bad for him,” she admitted in a whisper.
“You love him?” her sister asked in her usual no-nonsense manner.
Love him? The words seemed to echo in Lin’s mind.
Love him?
What she felt for Brandon seemed so much more. He’d quickly become her best friend, and she trusted him with her future, and the future of the restaurant. He’d taught her so many things, and he made her feel like she was a part of something larger than just herself. He gave her hope, and he made her laugh.
“Yes,” she finally admitted, meeting her sister’s eyes. “I love him.”
“Good.” Toni nodded once. “’Cause it sounds like he loves you too.”
Could that be? Could Brandon love her? The thought put a smile on Lin’s face.
“You’re doing it again,” Toni grunted, mid-sit-up.
“Doing what?”
“That goofy little grin.”
Lin’s smile grew as she stuffed some more of the lucky red envelopes. “I can’t help it. I’m in love!”
Somewhere in the Baltic, her sister snorted, and the sound made Lin giggle.
“How about you, huh? Are you getting any kisses?”
“Kisses?” Toni didn’t slow in her reps. “Who would I be kissing?”
Lin shrugged, watching her sister from the corner of her eye, while her hands fell into the easy repetition of folding and stuffing. “How about His Royal Highness, Prince Hotness?”
Toni snorted. “Why would he kiss me?”
“I dunno,” Lin teased, “but I notice you didn’t have to guess which prince I was talking about.”
If anything, Toni’s reps sped up, until she was flying up and down in her carpeted dorm. Each time her chest met her knees, she grunted softly, not meeting Lin’s eyes. “There might be six of them, but I’m second-in-command of the crown prince’s security detail. I assumed that’s the one you meant.”
“Well, that’s the one you talk about all the time.”
Grunt. “Because I work for the man.” Grunt.
“A super-hot man who probably kisses really well.”
Toni rolled her eyes and kept going. “An arrogant buffoon, who’s so obsessed with duty, he wouldn’t know how to date a girl.”
“If you were that girl, you could—”
Lin bit off her words when her sister stopped suddenly, mid-repetition, and glared at the camera.
“Listen, Lin.” Toni was breathing heavily. “He’s a prince. He’s a prince who is a pain to work for, and he only cares about his duty to his country. Even if he was my type—which he’s so obviously not—he’s still a prince. Princes do not date cowgirls from Idaho. They date—do princes even date?—royalty from— Ugh!” She threw her arm over her face and flopped back onto the carpet. “Why am I even explaining this?”
Lin smiled slightly, but kept her eyes locked on the envelopes in front of her. “I dunno. But you seem like you’re explaining it a little more intently than the situation calls for,” she teased.
Toni peeked at the camera from under her forearm. “Lin-Lin?”
“Yes, Toni?”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, Toni,” Lin quipped, smiling.
Before she could tease her sister further, Lin’s cell phone rang. She’d thrown her purse on the floor by the coffee table when she’d come home from the ranch, so she scrambled to find the phone now. On the fourth ring, she grabbed it and recognized The Golden Palace’s number.
“Toni, I’ve got to take this,” she said, mentally calculating how many tables they should have for a Tuesday evening, and if Mr. Lee was calling her to come in and help Jared.
Her sister nodded and waved her hand, still breathing heavily.
“Hello?” Lin said into the phone.
But it wasn’t GungGung. It was Jared, and from his ominous tone, Lin knew something was very, very wrong.
“Lin, it’s about Mr. Lee…”
“Hey man, I’m heading over to the restaurant for dinner later. You want to come?”
Brandon was lying on the couch, one arm thrown over his head and his feet elevated. He was so exhausted and sore, he didn’t think he could manage to move, so he groaned in response.
Bernard snorted with laughter as he reached for his coat, which was hanging beside Brandon’s on a peg by the door. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse. Who would’ve thought mixing and rolling fortune-cookies for three hours straight would hurt more than falling down a mountain? Steven may disagree, but I’m certain this is worse.”
His friend paused with one arm in his jacket’s sleeve. “Yeah, but the result is the same, right?” He continued pulling on his winter wear, though slower than before. “You’re doing it to get the girl.”
Brandon grunted in agreement, but then second-guessed himself. He’d been so totally focused on and invested in tomorrow’s dinner, he’d forgotten the original reason. It was as though the moment he’d agreed to help Lin, it was no longer about saving Lin’s restaurant or job…it’d been about the two of them making a success of this endeavor.
Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped doing i
t for her, and started doing it for “us”.
Huh.
“Hey, about that…”
There was something in Bernard’s tone which made Brandon sit up and pay attention. His friend had paused at the door, his coat on, but not ready to go out yet. He looked uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Brandon asked.
Bernard shifted his weight a few times, not meeting Brandon’s eyes, then grabbed his camera from the table. He fiddled with it, checking the lens while he spoke.
“Listen, it’s not any of my business, I know, but…but I’ve been hearing things.”
Brandon frowned at his friend’s hesitation. “What kind of things?”
“Well, just… There was some talk from company people—back in California. I’m not going to name names, but I thought you should know that some people were worried.”
“About me?” Brandon was shocked.
“No, about your job.” Bernard finally looked up and met Brandon’s eyes. “They noticed how distracted you’ve been. They said now you’ve secured Ben Turner as an investor, you don’t need to be here on-site anymore, and they wondered why you were still hanging around in Idaho.”
“Huh.” Well, that seemed like fairly specific gossip, all things considered. Brandon didn’t need to know who had said it to Bernard to know it was probably the truth. His job might very well be in danger because of how much time he’d been devoting to Lin and this New Year project.
And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why that didn’t worry him more than it did.
He met his friend’s eyes. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bernard’s brows rose. “That doesn’t sound as if you’re too worried.”
Brandon shrugged and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m not, and that’s surprising.”
“I thought you loved this job? You’ve been doing it for ages.”
“Yeah, I have. And I do.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Or I did, at least,” he muttered.
“What changed? Why aren’t you freaking out about losing your job?”
As the answer dawned, Brandon slowly smiled. “Lin.”
“Of course,” Bernard rolled his eyes. “It’s always the girl, huh?”
“You’ll understand when you fall in love.”
Bernard snorted. “Right, sure. You’re in love with her already?”
“I’ve been in love with her for awhile, I think.”
“Does she know? Have you discussed the future? Because if you bomb your job, or if you’re planning on staying in this little town, you’ve got a lot of talking to do with her.”
Brandon’s smile grew as he stood, rejuvenated with a new sense of purpose. “Not yet, but she will. I’ll talk with her.”
“When?”
“Well, she’s my Valentine, and you know what tomorrow is. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” In between all the work we’ve got to do! he silently added. “I’m sure I can figure out a little quiet time—”
Bernard snorted. “I’ve seen how much you’ve been planning, and I hear that dinner is going to be epic. Good luck.” He fiddled with his camera a bit more.
“Thanks.” Brandon sighed. “I think I’m going to need it.”
Here he’d just been told his job was potentially in danger, and all he was worried about was finding the time to tell Lin he loved her. He suddenly chuckled. How his priorities had changed!
Bernard’s lips quirked. “Well, I can see you’ve got your own mess to sort through. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Where are you off to?”
“I…uh.” Bernard looked like he didn’t want to talk about it, but must’ve changed his mind. “I was checking the lighting over at Old Town the other day, and I really thought I saw some kind of animal in the background.”
“Like a deer?”
“No, bigger. Like a bear or something. Up in the mountains. I’ve been back a few times, but no luck spotting it again. I thought I’d try at dusk.” He waggled the camera.
Brandon chuckled, not understanding his friend’s passion for cinematography, but knowing it was the reason so many of their shows had been successful. “You sure it wasn’t Bigfoot?” he teased. “I saw that website claiming all the Bigfoot sightings around these parts. Maybe you could sell them your photographs.”
Bernard snorted in disbelief. “It was bigger than a deer, but not as big as a Bigfoot. Satisfied?”
“Well, good luck, then.”
“I’m going to the restaurant for dinner after. Want me to bring you back anything?”
“No—” Brandon started to say. Then he thought better of it. “Yes,” he sighed. “Believe it or not, I’m sick of leftover Chinese food. Bring me a burger, fully loaded, would you?”
“Sure thing,” Bernard said, laughing. “Meanwhile, you think about your future, okay?”
And after his friend left, Brandon did just that. He sat there on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, and thought about his future. He was in the film business, which he’d always loved, and was happy. But could he be happier? Was there something he could be doing that would make him happier? Something that reminded him of family and home?
Because the last week—the days he’d spent working his fingers to the bone with Lin, teaching her things about his culture and his family, and seeing her joy to learn about those things—had been some of the happiest days he could remember. He really enjoyed sharing that with her and loved working beside her.
He’d never considered the restaurant life, but he was surprised to find that it could be fun. It had been fun to come up with a menu and buy the stuff and make two hundred helpings of char siu.
He chuckled at himself. Maybe he should withhold judgment until tomorrow evening. Until after he and Lin rolled and stuffed two hundred bao!
When his phone rang, he fumbled for it and his smile grew when he saw who it was. Lin! It’d only been a few hours since she’d gone home, but he missed her already.
He pressed the green button to accept the call. “I was just thinking of you!” he exclaimed cheerfully, wondering if she’d been missing him too.
But her voice, when she spoke, told him that wasn’t why she’d called.
“Brandon…” She sounded choked up. “The restaurant just called. Mr. Lee—” She inhaled noisily, like maybe she’d been crying. “Mr. Lee collapsed tonight, and he’s at the hospital. They say it’s from overwork, that his heart was just so exhausted. I should’ve been there! I should’ve taken over more—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Brandon’s own heart was pounding heavily as he stood up and reached for his car keys and jacket. “It’s okay, Lin. It’s not your fault.”
“I should’ve been there!”
“We’ll go there now.” One-handed, he wrestled his toque on his head. “I’m walking out the door now, I can be at your place in ten minutes; we’ll go see him together.”
She sniffed. “You think they’ll let us in? We’re not relatives.”
“I’ll make sure they do,” he promised.
She was quiet for a moment, then, “Make sure you bundle up. It’s cold out there.”
He could hear her watery smile, and loved that she could tease him at a time like this.
“Keep joking, honey.” His voice broke. “I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Everything was so quiet. Lin stared at Mr. Lee’s chest, watching the slow rise and fall to assure herself that he was alive, that he was going to be okay. She was so used to the hustle and bustle of her life, the calm and stillness of the hospital room seemed unnatural. There were hushed voices from the hall, and muted conversation from the next room. In the quiet, the steady faint beeping of the machines had begun to grate on her nerves.
The old man was sleeping, the nurse had said right before she’d let Lin into the room, albeit begrudgingly. Only the rise and fall of his chest proved that, and Lin clutched that hope as tightly as she clutched his cold hand.
The dry
, papery skin seemed almost translucent, and she shuddered at the feel of it. When had he grown so weak? Had the signs been there but she’d been too busy with Brandon—with the Valentine’s dinner—to notice? His hands had always seemed so strong and confident, chopping vegetables and waving spoons around…but now they lay on top of the sheet, so pale and still.
Lin couldn’t stand the sight. She reached across his body and tucked his right hand under the sheet, next to his hip. Maybe that would help to warm it up a bit. For now, she wrapped both of her hands around his left one, and willed some of her heat into him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, GungGung,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying better attention.”
The old man didn’t answer, of course. Lin realized at that moment, she’d give just about anything to hear one of his dumb idioms about tea.
“Still asleep?”
Brandon’s whisper startled her, and she twisted in her seat to see him softly shutting the door to the room. Mutely, she nodded, before turning back to Mr. Lee.
“I’ve never seen him so quiet before,” she confessed in a whisper. “I don’t like it.”
He moved up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll bet he doesn’t either.”
It wasn’t quite a laugh, the noise which came out of her, but it was nice to know Brandon could still lift her spirits a little.
“Did they tell you anything?” she asked him.
Brandon moved away from her—she missed his warmth already—to take the room’s other chair on the opposite side of the bed. He collapsed into it, and Lin realized how exhausted he must be. Just as tired as she was, certainly—they’d spent all day preparing food for tomorrow’s dinner—but he hadn’t hesitated to drop everything and come pick her up to take her to the hospital. It had to be past his bedtime by now!
But he offered her a tired smile, his dimples not as deep as usual. “It wasn’t an actual heart attack, just a hiccup. Dr. Baker had a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo, so I just nodded like I understood…he’s got a report if you want to read it. Anyhow, he’s in danger of a real heart attack if he doesn’t start taking it easy, but he should recover from this without much trouble. A few days in the hospital to rest, and probably some changes to lifestyle and diet, maybe some pills.” Brandon dropped his head back against the chair with a sigh. “He’ll be alright in the long run. They told my grandfather the same thing two years ago; it slowed him down a bit, but he’s still kicking.”
