Chapter 11
H umming softly, Fiona sat in her car reading her text conversation with Tomas.
He used emojis more than words and preferred talking on the phone.
Which she didn’t mind. Their schedules wouldn’t line up, so for the past few days, they had talked on the phone late into the evening.
Now, reading the message she’d composed, she bit her lip before hitting send.
Fiona: If you’re willing to take a chance on my cooking, would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night?
The response was immediate.
Tomas: Yes. What can I bring?
“Gah!” she shrieked, a knock at the window interrupting her car seat happy dance.
She scowled at her brother Joseph, bent double in laughter.
“Not funny! Now go away. I’ll be out in a minute.
” She finished her text with Tomas and climbed out of the car.
Opening the gate leading into her parents’ backyard, she found Joseph waiting for her by the back door, merriment dancing in his dark eyes.
“Car dancing, huh? What was that all about?”
Fiona shoved her phone into her purse and narrowed her eyes at him. “None of your business.”
Joseph waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll find out. I’m patient.”
She shouldered past him, knowing full well that he would because she’d never had the ability to hold out on him. For now, she wanted to keep these feelings, these tap-dancing, squishy feelings, to herself.
As adults, Fiona and Joseph were expected to join their parents for dinner on the first Sunday of the month.
Sunday night dinner at the Han household was a tense gird-your-loins-and-prepare-for-the-worst event.
Her mother held court from the end of the table, alternately reprimanding her children for sloppy table manners and demanding details of their schooling, jobs, and personal lives.
Her father sat silent at the other end, occasionally nodding or grunting when he felt it was necessary.
While they were married, Fiona had suggested to Eddie that they alternate the monthly Sunday night dinners between her parents and his.
He’d demurred, telling her that Iris and Darryl were part of a Sunday night supper club.
For the first two years they were together, Eddie was a regular at her parents’ table, complimenting her mother’s cooking and attempting to draw her father out in conversation while largely ignoring Joseph.
When he realized he would not be made a part of Han Family Holdings, their appearance at the dinner table began to wane, and Eddie’s controlling behavior over Fiona increased.
Contempt for her family and for her culture dripped from his words.
Anything in their home with a Vietnamese influence disappeared.
The porcelain tea set from her aunts, the decorative wall hanging in the entrance way, even the exquisite throw pillows Fiona’s grandmother had sewn from the rich red silk fabric of her wedding dress.
All vanished one day while she was at work.
She’d confronted Eddie. He flew into a tantrum, snarling in her face about gooks reneging on deals and needing to learn their place.
He didn’t touch her, but his words flayed her skin.
She’d taken her car and raced from the house, calling her mother. Expecting shelter, her mother’s words stopped her short.
“A marriage is a merger between two parties. It works best when the parties have like-minded goals and there is mutual respect. I’m afraid that Eddie did not live up to his end of the deal. The promises he made to HFH did not come through, and I had to let him go.”
Fiona pulled to the curb. Her husband had verbally abused her, yet her mother was talking about dismissing an employee. “I don’t understand.”
Her mother clicked her tongue as if exasperated with a dense child. “When Eddie approached me about marrying you, he promised to open doors for the business and secure property to develop. That never happened. His promises weren’t worth the paper they were written on.”
“I didn’t know,” Fiona whispered.
“You didn’t need to know,” her mother carried on as if the fracturing of her daughter’s world were a minor interruption to be dealt with. “The marriage can continue, however the merger of KBS and HFH will not happen. Eddie will not end the marriage, that would look bad for both of us.”
Her mother continued, but Fiona didn’t hear anything else. Both of us. Fiona’s safety and well-being were not factors. Everything was business to her mother.
She ended the call and sat in her car. Through the windshield, she saw a strip mall. A strip mall owned by her family. Right. Marriage as a business. Squaring her shoulders, she turned her car around and drove home. That night, she moved out of the master bedroom.
It was her father who convinced Fiona to return to Sunday dinner.
Shortly after Eddie’s arrest, unannounced, David Han showed up at Keeney Works carrying an African violet.
Fiona rose from her desk to greet him; he nodded, then turned left and entered Iris’s office.
A surprised Iris motioned him to a chair.
He sat and spoke quietly to her for a few minutes.
Rooted to the carpet, Fiona stood in her own office, unable to hear, watching the changing expressions move across Iris’s face.
Whatever he said caused tears to well in her eyes.
Finally, he stood, patted Iris on the hand, and approached Fiona.
A quiet man, her father was always in the shadow of his wife, seeming content for her to make the decisions, running both the business and the family.
Away from work, he could be found in his greenhouse, listening to baseball games and tending to his plants.
He took both of Fiona’s hands in his, wrinkles fanning out from his dark eyes, a gentle smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.
“The people we love the most have the power to hurt us the most. We are not responsible for their actions, nor should we be ashamed of loving them.”
Blinking back tears, Fiona lowered her eyes and stared at her father’s hands holding hers, unable to speak.
“When you are up to it, please come to dinner. I miss you.”
Fiona looked up to see a lone tear slide down her father’s cheek. At her nod, he squeezed her hand, then left as silently as he’d arrived. Her gaze shifted when she heard Iris sniff. She exchanged a watery smile with her mother-in-law, then returned to her desk.
Now, entering the kitchen of her parents’ house, she hung her purse on a hook by the back door before going to the sink to wash her hands. From his position at the island worktop, her father looked up from the vegetables he was chopping and winked. “How can I help?” she asked.
Her mother turned from the stove, her gaze traveling over Fiona from head to toe, then nodded toward the dining room. “You can finish setting the table. Joseph, I need you to get down the serving platters.”
“Yes, mother,” they said in unison and went to do their jobs.
Listening to the chatter of her mother and brother with one ear, Fiona set the table and then stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Who’s the extra place setting for? Is Grandfather joining us?
” Linh Han’s father had lived with her parents for five years since the death of his wife.
Sunday afternoons and evenings usually found him at the Vietnamese social club where he played mah jong and smoked the disgusting cigarettes Linh Han would not permit in her house.
“No. Pastor Tran will be joining us.”
Fiona exchanged puzzled glances with Joseph, finished setting the table, and joined her father at the island. From her place at the stove, her mother began the interrogation. She started with Joseph, grilling him about various properties and tenants. “And dating, are you seeing anyone?”
Joseph flicked an irritated glance at Fiona before answering, “No, Mother. I’ve been concentrating on work.”
“Perhaps you should try a dating app. I heard there is one called Meet Cute that is very useful. Mrs. Smith says her daughter has had great success with it.”
From her place beside her father, Fiona snorted. Joseph bit his lip.
He muttered, “I’ll look into it.”
The doorbell rang.
Thank God! Fiona avoided the dissection of her love life. “I’ll get it.”
“No. Joseph will get it. You will help serve the food.” Linh Han removed her apron and smoothed down her hair. She gestured at her husband, who patted Fiona on the arm and followed Joseph out of the kitchen.
“Of course,” Fiona mumbled, slipping into the role of dutiful daughter. It was better to go along with it, and she’d be able to leave in a couple of hours.
Voices heralded the return of the men, and the women stepped into the dining room.
Having only seen Pastor Tran in his clergy robes, Fiona wasn’t sure what to expect. The slim, smiling man in a pale blue Polo shirt and rumpled khakis wasn’t it. He looked to be in his late thirties, with slightly messy hair and a relaxed manner.
“Mrs. Han, thank you so much for inviting me for dinner.” He stepped forward with one hand extended and a bottle of wine in the other.
Linh Han accepted it with a regal nod. “You are welcome. I apologize for not having invited you sooner. You’ve met my daughter Fiona.”
“Yes.” He switched his gaze to Fiona, extending his hand as well.
“Pastor Tran.” Fiona smiled and shook hands.
“Please, call me Andy.” His smile was big and contagious. “Your home is lovely, Mrs. Han.”
Fiona refrained from snorting aloud. It wasn’t until they’d been in college that their mother allowed her and Joseph into the dining room and living room unsupervised. To say that she was meticulous about order and cleanliness was an understatement.