The Family Recipe

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Connie

Connie V? saw dogs as giant rats, thought rom-coms were for women who suffered from Stockholm syndrome, and hadn’t eaten sugar since the 2016 election. Which is why she went immediately into attack mode when she discovered Duc’s plans for his children and the twisted inheritance game he wanted to play. Because in all his wild schemes, he’d forgotten one thing: his second wife. What would happen to her share of the money? Didn’t he remember there was a prenup? What was the old fool thinking?

She stood waist-deep at the end of the infinity pool at the Four Seasons Resort in Oahu, away from the mass of sweaty, pale, sunburnt bodies that had formed in the middle. A champagne flute in one hand, her cell phone in the other. Her sunglasses teetered at the edge of her nose, as her eyes peered over the rim, judging everyone in their cheap, ugly bathing suits. She watched tourists scream with excitement and take a million selfies with the same exact facial expression that would end up clogging their cloud storage. That was the thing about these big fancy expensive resorts: No one had any shame when it came to tourism. It was as if they were told that an animal was nearly extinct and it made them want to poach it even more.

It was even more terrifying to witness the giant family vacations. Swarms of families rushed past, pushing strollers of crying toddlers, yanking wandering, sticky children’s hands. Red-faced fathers wore bucket hats, and mothers in straw hats carried hotel beach towels. It was supposedly their once-a-year vacation, yet they always seemed to be in a hurry, rushing back to their rooms, rushing to their restaurant reservation, rushing to snorkeling lessons.

It was all so pedestrian to Connie.

What exactly was so relaxing about traveling with children?

What exactly was so relaxing about birthing children?

Connie took a big swig from her glass, emptied it, and motioned for another. She willed her phone to ring. Thank god Duc was seventeen hours ahead, stuck in Vietnam. She never wanted to deal with him directly. Connie V? always took the shortcut, just like her mother taught her. Her mother taught her survival skills, and it had gotten her this far in life.

Though she was the same age as Jane Tr?n, her stepdaughter, Connie looked spryer than Jane. That was the point of having money. At thirty-one, her sleek, shoulder-length hair and wrinkle-free face made her look like Jane’s younger sister. Jane’s wrinkles came from reading too many law books and fighting for the little people, while Connie haggled over designer bags at the outlet mall.

That was not to say Connie didn’t have her stresses. Marriage to Duc the past five years had been one long chess game. She’d been a pawn who had finally reached the other side of the board and was two moves away from turning into a queen. Except her stepchildren were about to prevent her from taking that final step forward.

She never wanted to be the evil stepmother, or even cared if she was liked by her stepchildren. She certainly didn’t care how the optics looked, to marry someone nearly thirty years her senior. Because she knew at the end of the day, she’d rather be gossiped about while living in a mansion instead of a studio rental.

Her phone vibrated and she picked up immediately. “Jason? Where the hell have you been,” she hissed into the phone. “You know we have a situation here. I’m going to need all hands on deck for this one. What’s the status?”

“Good news, Connie,” Jason said in his booming voice. “Even if one of Duc’s kids gets his fortune you are still entitled to something. The prenup states that they don’t get everything .”

“Yes, but what is included in ‘everything,’?” she griped. “This isn’t the breakfast special, Jason. We’ve only been married for five years. I wasn’t with him when he started his business. I came after.”

“Doesn’t matter. Anything you two accumulated together during those five years will be taken into account.”

Connie paused as she did quick math in her mind, her accounting degree kicking in. Her body turned cold. “But we haven’t accumulated anything together in five years. The man hasn’t hustled in five years; he’s been coasting!”

“Well, hasn’t the sandwich chain made money?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly. “He doesn’t really talk business with me. He did mention some stores weren’t doing well. I think those stores were passed to his daughters. But surely those stores don’t affect the entire revenue?”

“Look, you’re going to need to dig into his finances and see where he’s at. I can’t do anything on my end until I see what we’re up against.”

She pushed her sunglasses up to cover her eyes, shielding herself from curious glances thrown her way. The lone Asian woman shouting into her phone at the end of an infinity pool. A few children on floaties passed her by, shrieking and screaming and splashing water on her. She recoiled, not from the water, but from the children. She tried her best to remember what she learned at her Buddhist retreat in Upstate New York to calm her down. But she couldn’t remember a damn thing. Something, something about counting her breaths.

“Okay, now tell me the bad news,” she whispered into the phone.

Her lawyer paused, already wary of how strong her reactions could be. “I did some digging. Look it’s not bad bad, but it’s bad. I mean, on a scale of bad law stuff, it’s bad .”

“Spit it out, damnit,” Connie shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. But, Con, I don’t think you are technically married,” Jason said. She couldn’t tell if she could feel him bracing himself or if it was her. Either way, her free hand searched for the pool’s ledge to hold on to something until she realized there was none. It was a damn infinity pool.

“What do you mean technically not married? We had a whole wedding in Dallas. Over five hundred guests were there. Even your goddamn mistress and your wife were there. Lobsters were flown in from Maine. We gave Bluetooth karaoke microphones as wedding favors. What do you mean technically not married?”

Jason took a deep breath. “You know Duc’s lawyer, Mr. Nope?”

“You mean, Mr. Ng?, ” she said, correcting him.

“Whatever, this isn’t a Vietnamese-language class. I don’t think he actually ever filed the divorce papers for Evelyn and Duc. I can’t find any record of them divorcing,” he whispered. “And… I can’t find your marriage certificate, either.”

Connie gasped so loudly she frightened a small child who had floated past her. “But he was the officiant? I saw him sign the certificate!”

“I don’t know, I can’t find it. Nothing is adding up.”

Connie could see her future slipping away. Why couldn’t she remember a damn thing from that Buddhist retreat? One… two… three… something about not thinking about the pink elephant…

She could feel a panic attack coming on. She should have been more prepared, always three steps ahead, just like her mother had taught her. Who’d ever trust a Vietnamese lawyer to actually file paperwork? She should have gone with her white lawyer. She could feel her pawn being attacked on all sides, preventing her from turning into a queen. Was she about to lose the game?

“Mother—” She started to hyperventilate.

Jason prattled on, his voice growing more distant by the second. “Actually, come to think of it, I don’t even think he’s a real lawyer…”

“Fu—”

Connie threw her phone across the pool, dunked her whole head underwater—saw how even uglier the other people’s bathing suits were from the bottom half—and screamed and screamed as bubbles came out of her mouth, floating all the way to the surface.