“What’s in these dumplings? I’m vegan, since animals shouldn’t be a commodity, so...” Andrea blinked her eyelashes and sat up straighter as if she’d just announced she was the president. Emma looked at the leather boot on Andrea’s impatiently tapping foot and the buttery leather clutch sitting on the table near Andrea’s plate. Nothing said committed-to-the-cause better than a vegan wearing leather.
“The dumplings come made to order. You can put whatever you like in them. Most people do shrimp or pork, but you can have them stuffed with tofu or spring garlic if you like. For your entrée, the ants-climbing-trees is wonderful if you like it hot, which I love it hot, so...” Emma blushed a little at the possible ways that could have been taken. She likely wouldn’t have considered her word choice at all except that Harrison’s lips curved up in amusement whereas Andrea’s curved down along with the narrowing of her eyes. “I mean, anyway, there’s all the usuals: broccoli beef, beef in oyster sauce, lemongrass chicken, and the dry garlic spareribs are proof that mankind is inspired. Pretty much I like everything. If we go over all my favorites, I’ll just be standing here reciting the entire menu to you.”
Harrison closed his menu. “I’ll have the dry garlic spareribs. I could use a little inspiration about now. And we’ll have the shumai as an appetizer. Can we do half of them with pork and half with whatever she’d like?” He pointed at his date in the same way a car owner would point at a rock chip in his windshield as he went in to get it repaired. The point said, “Can someone fix this annoyance, please?” What was Harrison doing on a date with this girl?
“Sure thing!” Emma said brightly as she doodled the snake wearing a snakeskin boot with the word Prada on the label. She added the caption, “Animals shouldn’t be commodities.”
Andrea frowned at her menu and said nothing at all. Harrison waited. Emma waited. When it became apparent that Andrea had no intention of ordering yet, Harrison took the opportunity to chat some more. “You still into art?”
Emma’s pencil jerked over the paper accidentally putting a line through the snake’s middle. “What?” She tucked the sketchbook into her pocket. Had he seen it?
“You were always drawing in school. When we had to trade papers to correct them, yours always had sketches of dragons on them.”
She had to give him credit. He had a superb memory. How had he remembered her dragons after all this time? She smiled. “And yours always had funky shapes and swirls. Looks like you were made for design school.”
He seemed pleased in their shared recollection. Before he could respond, Andrea shoved her menu at Emma. “I’ll just have the lo mein.”
Emma nodded, and backed away to place the orders at the computer.
“Aren’t you going to write my order down?” Andrea asked.
“Right. Sorry. Of course.” Emma pulled out her sketchbook and added a forked tongue to the serpent’s mouth. “That wraps this up. Your meal will be out shortly.” She escaped to the kitchen.
When the appetizers were ready, she made Nate put on a clean apron and deliver it to the table. And she brought a Mr. Pibb refill out with one of her other table’s appetizers so she had an excuse to make a quick getaway from the table while still doing her job.
She delivered the meals but hurried as she eyed the next table over where they still needed to place an order. She worked hard to stay out of Harrison’s lingering gaze. She didn’t blame Andrea for being mad. She’d have been mad too if her date spent the evening checking out the hired help.
But as much as she tried to avoid Harrison staring at her, she found herself unable to keep from staring at him. As a matter of habit, she always kept watch over her tables so that she knew when they needed refills or new silverware or if they were waiting for the check or looking around for an extra soy sauce bottle. She tried to watch over all her tables, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering back to where Harrison sat and watching him only.
Had he looked like that in high school?
She didn’t think so.
Because she was sure she would have remembered that confident posture, the way his muscles flexed under his long-sleeved, black pullover as he leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, the way his dark hair looked like he’d fallen out of bed and raked his fingers through it before leaving to start his day in that messy-but-perfect style, the way his eyes focused intently when he was giving something his full attention— which he finally did after a short while, giving full attention to his date.
She grunted at that and then felt guilty for being unhappy that he was doing the right thing in paying attention to the girl with whom he’d gone to dinner. “Gah!” she said as she dragged a hand down her face. “What am I doing?”
“Taking them the check,” Cái said from behind her, nearly scaring her enough to fall through the swinging door.
“Cái!” She harrumphed and snatched the plate with the check and fortune cookies from his hand. “You scared me!”
“Something interesting happening at table thirteen?”
“No, I’m just making sure they have everything they need.” A crummy excuse for gawking, but she clung to it regardless. Harrison laughed at something Andrea had said. Emma frowned. So the unmemorable-Andrea-from-high-school could be funny. So what? What did it matter to her?
Emma then wondered what sorts of things made Harrison laugh. Did he laugh all those years ago when they had to sit together through English and biology and the dozens of other classes? She didn’t remember much laughing, but... back then, she hadn’t had much to laugh about.
“Are you going to take them their check?” Cái asked, tapping the plate now in Emma’s hand. “I hand-picked those cookies just for this occasion. Something special for tonight.” He beamed, his old man wrinkles folding up on his face in a way that made Emma smile.
She hoped Andrea’s fortune said something about stepping barefoot on a Lego. Then she grunted at herself again and forced the mean thought from her head as she pushed through the swinging door and out onto the restaurant floor.
She placed the plate of cookies with the check near Harrison’s hand and was glad to see that he was not holding Andrea’s hand. “I’ll be your cashier, so when you’re ready, just leave this on the edge, and I’ll come pick it up for you.” She turned to drop off drinks to table twelve and to check on table nine. As she exchanged polite banter with the couple at table nine, noise came from behind her.
Not good noise, but angry noise. And it was growing in volume.
“What do you mean you’re sure that your fortune has nothing to do with me?”
Andrea.
And she was furious over something.
Harrison whispered and made a placating sort of gesture, but instead of being appeased, Andrea shoved her chair back as she flew to her feet. “I have been waiting for seven years, Harrison! Seven!” At the final word, she picked up one of the uneaten tofu dumplings and hurled it at Harrison’s head. He dodged the aim and gave a look of bewilderment at the fact that his date really did just launch food at him. His shock left him unable to duck the second volley. That dumpling caught him square in the face.
Emma had wanted to call “look out!” or something but was so awed by the fact that a grown woman was flinging tofu dumplings in a public place that she could only gawk along with the rest of the customers.
“I helped your mom plan her thirtieth wedding anniversary party, just so you’d come home and finally commit to us!” Another dumpling soared through the air; he managed to dodge that one. Emma winced with the sound of the splat against the ground and wondered if Andrea had eaten any of her dumplings.
She finally ran out of dumplings and moved on to her main course.
“There isn’t any us.” Harrison’s voice sounded panicky and perhaps a little bit afraid of this manic-lo-mein-lobbing female.
“Do you realize I’ve picked out bridal dresses and children’s names with your mother? Do you realize that you continually sabot
age all the work we’ve put into this relationship?”
Lo mein hung from his ear. He held up his hands in a surrender motion, but picked up his plate and faced it toward her like a shield. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... Andrea. I appreciate that you’re friends with my mom. But c’mon! You think all dogs should be euthanized.”
Emma’s eyes widened at that. What kind of person didn’t like dogs?
“I was joking when I said that!” Andrea shouted.
Harrison looked wild with desperation to make Andrea see something that was very clear to him. “I, look, let’s—” He hurried to shield his face from the new barrage of noodles.
A voice was at Emma’s right whispering, “You’ve gotta stop this!” It was Jen, and she was right. They were misbehaving while at Emma’s table. That made them her responsibility. And they really couldn’t continue. Andrea had nearly run out of things to throw, and Emma didn’t want her resorting to the plates on neighboring tables.
Emma approached the table as if she was on safari and hunting a crazed lioness. She wished she hadn’t left her serving tray on the stand at table nine. She could have used the protection its flat surface would have provided. Cái exited the kitchen behind her to see what all the commotion was about at the same time Harrison’s eyes met Emma’s.
Andrea turned her gaze on Emma too. Emma blinked in surprise at the loathing in the woman’s eyes. She was clearly off her meds. Emma’s mouth fell open in horror as Andrea snatched up the plate with the cookies and the bill and heaved it with as much force as her fury would allow.
Except she had bad aim, and the plate headed straight at Cái.
Emma leaped in front of Cái and tried to block the projectile. The plate caught her flat against the arm she’d flung out to shield her face, and as she made a fist against the shock of pain, she heard the oddest thing.
A crunching sound.
The kind she knew from years of cookies broken open at tables.
She had caught one of the cookies. And it had broken on impact inside her hand.
Andrea made a squeak of surprise at her actions. Her eyes were as big as the plate she’d thrown. She seemed as shocked as everyone else. She vacated the building at a dead run.
“What was that?” Emma whispered. And then she made a low “Ow!” noise and tried to shake the pain from her arm.
Pandemonium followed. Customers were everywhere talking all at once. Emma met Harrison’s gaze and felt as though he had locked her in place. She could barely get a breath in with him staring at her like that.
Someone righted Harrison’s chair for him, and a few guys patted him on the back while a few women looked at him as if he was a puppy at the animal shelter that they personally needed to save from The Lunatic Woman who wanted all dogs euthanized. He must have found his napkin on the floor because he now used it to mop up his face.
Much to Harrison’s dismay, several of the customers had dialed 911 during the attack of the victuals. The chatter made it clear that few people had never seen anything like it, and most people agreed that they still couldn’t believe they’d witnessed such a spectacle. Emma couldn’t believe it either.
“Your girlfriend is um... passionate,” she said as she made her way to Harrison through the porcelain chips of the broken plate and slimy remnants of what had once been perfectly good dumplings.
Well... not perfectly good. They were made with tofu after all.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Harrison said.
“At least not anymore!” one of the other customers called out. The other people at his table laughed. Harrison did too. Emma smirked, glad to see a guy who could take a joke, even during public humiliation. Most people had gone back to their meals, gorging themselves on tasty food and good gossip. Emma and the staff would have to wait for the police to arrive and somehow repair this disaster.
“Did you see that?” Cái demanded of everyone. “That crazy woman threw a plate at my head. My plate! At my head! In my restaurant!” Emma tried to console him that the plate had been meant for her head not his, but he wouldn’t be comforted by anything, at least not until his little wrinkles lifted into a look of curiosity. “Emma. What is in your hand?”
She looked down at the cracked cookie still in her grasp. “I caught it.” She felt a little self-satisfied over that. It was a good catch. Though her forearm didn’t feel nearly so lucky. The bruising from the plate’s impact already glowed purple beneath her skin.
“You opened a cookie!” Cái clapped his hands and actually had the nerve to look pleased. Pleased. And after she’d saved him from a plate to the head!
“I did not open a cookie. I caught it. Not even close to the same thing.” She’d spent too many years sticking to her guns on the point of not opening a cookie. And this certainly couldn’t be counted.
“But it broke open in your hand.” He wagged a finger at her. “I told you these cookies were special. It is only right that you should get one.” Yep. The little guy had smug written all over him. She rolled her eyes and made a psh sound, deciding it would be better to pay attention to the customers than to the restaurant owner who believed in magic cookies. She turned back to Harrison.
“You know I could’ve boxed that all up to go if you really wanted food that could travel,” she said as he tried to wipe off the dumpling splatter stuck in the corner of his eye.
He smiled, in spite of the fact he likely didn’t feel very smiley. “I’m really sorry about all this.” He’d apologized to everyone several times already, but he didn’t appear to have any intentions of stopping. She felt sorry for him in every way.
He bent down to pick up the fallout from the floor, but Emma stopped him by laying a hand on his arm. “You’re making this harder than it has to be. I have a good broom, a good dustpan, and an excellent mop. Your date didn’t do anything worse than many of the toddlers that have been through here. We know how to handle it. You, on the other hand, should go rinse your eyes out. Who knows what kind of damage tofu does to tear ducts.”
He glanced down at where her hand still rested on his arm. She snatched her hand back and stammered, “The bathroom is just past the hostess counter.”
“Are you going to read it?” he asked.
“Read what?”
“The fortune you’re still holding.” He nodded to her other hand, the one not guilty of being overly familiar with customers, the one still clutching a cookie.
“That’s what I was going to ask!” Cái huffed. He watched her closely in case she decided to hide her cookie among the debris on the floor to be swept up later. In truth, she probably would have done exactly that if she hadn’t had such a curious and intent audience.
“Fine, Cái. But I still say it doesn’t count since it broke. Broken does not mean opened.” She separated the two halves connected by the paper and pulled the paper from the half cookie while she popped the other half in her mouth. She deserved to eat it if she was going to be burdened with the message inside. She read it. “Huh. Totally unlikely,” she said and popped the other half of the cookie in her mouth.
“What does it say?” Cái asked.
“Sorry, Cái, it was a voodoo-wasted sort of moment. Bummer to disappoint you. She scrunched the little paper up in her hands and stuffed it in her pocket.
“But what does it say?” Cái demanded to know.
“Aw, c’mon. Put him out of his misery,” Harrison said, as if he had anything to do with it.
“What? And ruin the possibility of it all? Wouldn’t telling about it make it null and void?” She was just messing with him. She didn’t believe in any of it.
“You’re talking about wishes!” Cái said. “Completely different side of the divining spectrum.”
“Divining—” She blew out a long breath. “Cái, I totally love you, but I think you’re one fake Chinese cookie away from the nutter house, you know that?”
“Just read it to me.” He practically begged. “I had a good feeling about them when I put th
e cookies on the plate. I knew these were special. It is fate that you became the owner of this fortune and not the Lunatic Woman. You have to tell me.”
She would have probably given in if the police hadn’t shown up at that moment. Pandemonium erupted again. Lots of people stepped forward, wanting their five seconds of glory by recounting the tale. Harrison refused to press charges. Cái refused to press charges, using the same argument Emma had used when Harrison tried to clean up the food by hand: any restaurant that dealt with entitled toddlers knew how to handle displaced meals.
The real victim in the assault had been Emma. There was no hiding the swelling mass of purple on her arm.
Much to the dismay of every would-be witness within the walls of The Fortune Café, she also declined the opportunity to seek justice by pressing charges. To be honest, she simply didn’t have time. She still had to ink an entire storyline and get shipping envelopes ready to go for when the orders came in. As it was, she would be spending every spare moment for the better part of a week signing books and shipping them off.
All she wanted at the moment was to clean the mess up, finish serving her tables, and go home to the real work.
The police finally gave up trying to coerce her to press charges and left. The customers trickled out, realizing the excitement really was over.
Harrison refused to leave. He insisted on making “restitution,” as he called it. As if he were some teenage delinquent put on community service for bad behavior. He swept the mess while Emma finished caring for her tables. He mopped the floors as she handled the checks for each one. He wiped down all the tables— even the ones not in her area. The three busboys, Jeff, James, and Rob acted as though they’d discovered the TARDIS was a real time machine. Nate, the sous chef, declared Harrison to be the patron saint of the restaurant and told him they’d make a bobblehead in his honor, and Cái smiled as if very pleased with how well the evening had gone in spite of the fact that he had a bruised waitress and a shattered plate. Soon, the only people in The Fortune Café were the staff and Harrison.
The Fortune Cafe (A Tangerine Street Romance) Page 2
