Chapter 13
Jiyeon took another sip of coffee and watched her boyfriend sign autographs in a grocery store parking lot.
This was an odd way to start her day, but the next two months were bound to be odd all around.
Maybe she’d look back later and see nothing unusual about this morning. Maybe she’d start to see it as normal.
“Ryan just had to get out and take pictures,” Jeannie huffed, slouching in the back seat with the grocery bags and a hunted expression. “He just really needed to do it, like he's never seen pumpkins before.”
“He's seen pumpkins before, but probably not this many.”
Like most American grocery store chains, Lowell’s transformed into a pumpkin wonderland as soon as the calendar flipped from August to September.
Pumpkins spilled out of wooden crates and galvanized metal tubs.
They formed a maze leading up to the entrance, arranged in a jumble of sizes, representing every gradation of orange.
Some were yellow or white, or even green.
This year, they had a whole row of towering sunflowers marching along the back wall.
Herbs and potted plants were nestled into every space between.
“Does he know it’s even worse inside the store? Pumpkin pie, pumpkin scones, pumpkin ravioli, pumpkin spice popcorn…”
Jiyeon shook her head. “Nope. Didn’t wanna risk it.”
“Until now. The call of the pumpkins was just too strong.” Jeannie sipped at her own drink, a fizzy concoction flavored with yuzu and lavender. “Hope it was worth it. Like, I’d better see Ryan’s crazy good pumpkin photography in National Geographic or something.”
“I’m honestly not sure if he ever made it up there.”
They’d agreed that Jeannie would be the one to run in for the last minute groceries, but Jiyeon hadn’t been around to see when the ambush happened.
She’d embarked on a mission of her own: investigating the waffle place that opened in this shopping center last month.
By the time she got back, Eunjae was on the grassy median between two parking spots, mask dangling from one ear.
He still had the book he'd planned to read in the car, an old paperback from the Molly Merriweather series. Autographs signed, he made polite conversation with a pair of moms pushing shopping carts. The mom on the right gazed at him tearfully, hands clasped to her chest. The baby in the lefthand cart might have seen Jiyeon’s desperate dive into the driver's seat. She hoped he was the only witness.
This ended their streak of going undetected.
Of course it would happen on their last morning in Lemon Grove, running one more errand for the shop before they made the drive to Monroe.
It was supposed to be a quick stop, in and out, then back to Wanna Waffle with blueberries and powdered sugar.
If she approached him now, explanations would be in order.
Better for the fans to think he’d come here on his own.
Better for Prism to be under that impression, too.
“And he just left the car unlocked?” Jeannie groused. “That’s a major security flop.”
“He locked it. Eunjae has my spare set of keys, remember? You know he’s been borrowing the car to practice driving with Denny.”
“Still!”
“Still what? Come on, let’s see if this is any good.” Jiyeon brought out a Styrofoam container full of spoils, setting this on the center console so Jeannie could share. She’d ordered two kinds of waffles from the menu, plus three drinks, and got a good look around while she waited.
The place was nowhere near the size of Wanna Waffle.
They had one long table and some bar seating, along with two more tiny tables outside.
But everything was crisp and new, the interior designed to maximize every bit of natural light: pale yellow walls, honey-toned wood, shimmering white tile.
Above the counter was a digital menu. Orders were taken through self-pay kiosks, eliminating the need for human interaction.
They'd covered the back wall with an art piece made of moss, and neon signage spelled out the phrase, “Love you a waffle lot!” You'd be insane not to post about it on social media.
“Don't you dare,” Jeannie hissed at her.
“Don't even joke about it! Denny can never know you went in there, and he definitely can’t find out that we tried the enemy’s food!
That's how we get banished!” She glanced over her shoulder as though he might be watching their every move.
“No, wait. What's the word for when the pope does it?”
Jiyeon unwrapped a plastic fork. “Excommunicated.”
“Excommunicated. That’s it.”
“We should've looked into this place sooner. There are other brunch spots around here, but this is the only one specializing in waffles like ours does. I’ll just tell Denny it was research.” She paused. “No, reconnaissance.”
“You're being super chill for somebody who might have to watch Ryan get abducted by soccer moms.”
“He won’t get abducted by soccer moms.” Jiyeon turned halfway in the driver’s seat. “Hey, why are you so grouchy? Are you in another group project for class? Is that the problem?”
“No! I mean, yeah I’m in another group project, I’m always in a horrible group project since my professors hate happiness, but that’s not it.
” Jeannie stabbed at a chunk of waffle, bottom lip wobbling.
“Do you have to do the show? Can’t you just stay here?
Not even Ryan wants you to go up there with him. ”
“You both know why I’m doing it. I’ll help out and Denny can drive down here more often. I wish you’d stay here. It’ll be rough juggling the show and going to school at the same time, even if you’re only doing weekends on set.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Jeannie exclaimed.
“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever signed up for!
I’ll have to do so much work! But I have to do it, I can’t let you go alone.
” She sniffled a little. “You’d never let me do something like this alone.
You’d be really stupid with me. We’d be really stupid together. ”
“No question. But I won’t be alone, Jeannie. I’ll be fine.”
Swallowing her first mouthful, Jeannie argued, “No way. Apollo doesn’t count, they’re just boys.”
“Don’t you collect those cards with their pictures on them?”
“I’m allowed to have a hobby! Evan’s been collecting Godzilla action figures since we were three. Is that any better?” More sniffling, paired with reluctant chewing. “Oh my god. This isn’t buttermilk, it’s cornmeal.”
“Uh-huh. The menu said cornmeal waffle with blueberry compote. This other one is their standard buttermilk, though.”
“With what? Like what’s the topping?”
“Mascarpone cream.”
“Mascarpone?” The anguish intensified. “No! It wasn’t supposed to be good!
I was supposed to hate it! Can you tell the boss I tried really hard to stay loyal?
I tried so hard that I ended up eating everything.
” Around another bite of waffle, she said, “But what choice do I have? I need to eat or I won’t have energy.
I can’t be here for you if I don’t have energy, so I have to keep eating. I’m eating because I love you.”
Jiyeon wanted to crowd into the back with Jeannie and give her a hug. But the impromptu fan meeting had ended, and here was Eunjae loping to the car, already apologizing before he’d even finished folding his legs into the passenger’s side. “I should’ve stayed in here,” he groaned.
A petulant huff from Jeannie’s corner. “Yeah! What were you thinking? Come on.”
“The light was nice. Didn’t want to miss it.”
“You always say that! Just wait ‘til Denny finds out! But he can never find out, so here’s the deal: we won’t tell the boss you were seen in the wild, and you won’t tell the boss we consorted with the enemy. Got it, Ryan?”
“Consorting with the enemy…?”
“That was research.” Jiyeon handed him their third drink, a house-made lavender lemonade. Then she backed out of the parking spot, conscious of the morning ticking away. There was no scenario in which her parents would say their goodbyes in a timely manner.
“Waff.le,” said Eunjae, sounding out the shop name printed on the cup. “Wait, am I saying it right? How do you pronounce this? Waff-leh…? Or maybe it’s more like waff-lllllll…?”
“It’s pronounced ‘rigmarole,’” Jiyeon replied, adopting her brother’s exact phrasing and disgusted tone.
Both passengers agreed that she got it exactly right.
“Oh! They have this thing they do for customer loyalty,” she went on, cruising through a green light, “and it’s an app that tracks reward points.
We have loyalty cards, but what about reusable coffee cup sleeves with our logo on it?
Cute and simple. You buy one and then the next time you come in, you’ll get a discount on your drink.
Isn’t that a good idea? I think our regulars would love that. ”
“It’s great. And you could do something similar for your own place. You’ll have a lot of clients coming back.” There was such an undercurrent of pride in Eunjae's voice. She did her best to smile through the wave of guilt. How was she ever going to tell him about the salon? He’d take it so hard.
“You think everything she says is great,” Jeannie pointed out, eyes rolling heavenward. “And why shouldn’t you? She’s the best. Why do you even get to be with her? You’re not special or anything, Ryan. Jiyeon took you in off the street, but I was here first.”
“That’s true. You were here first.”
“I was the original charity case, okay? Me.”
“Right. Of course.”
“They’ve been helping me forever. So I’m helping them back, forever. I’ll keep doing it even though it makes me so tired. Like, I’m agreeing to work double time so I can be on your show, and I’m not making that sacrifice for you. Why would I?”
Eunjae nodded. “Ah, yeah. I’m just some guy.”
“Exactly. And I’m not doing it for Jaehwan even though he’s my bias and always will be.” Jeannie speared another bite of waffle, balancing the container in her lap. “This is a Code Violet. Again.”
“Code Violet. Don't think I've heard that one before.”
“It's when anybody with the last name 'Han' needs me for something and I cry about it. I cry about it a lot. And then I get up and help them since they've always helped me.”
Jiyeon braked for a stop sign. She was the one who’d be crying, at this rate. “So that’s what it means. I always wondered.”
“That’s so nice,” said Eunjae, turning in his seat to smile at Jeannie.
She kicked the back of his seat. “Stop that. Don’t praise me when I’m just being a brat. That’s uncalled for, you’re not even playing fair.”
“Sorry! I’m really sorry—”
“I need to roll my window down and scream.”
Before any screaming could commence, Eunjae resorted to an age-old trick that always worked with his brothers. Pulling the plastic lid off his lemonade, he passed it to Jeannie as a peace offering. “Give it a try. It’s pretty good.”
“Like I want to drink idol backwash! Backwash is still backwash even when the spit came from someone almost as hot as Jaehwan!” Swiping the lemonade, she added, “I’m not into you, Ryan. That’s not why I’m accepting this. Please be aware that I’m not interested.”
“Good to know,” said Jiyeon, trying not to laugh. “We’d have to talk if you were.”
Noises of deep disgust emanated from the back seat. Up front, Eunjae fiddled with the vents. “Isn’t it warm? Maybe I’ll roll my window down, too.”
“Oh, ‘cause you need to puke? Same.” But Jeannie took a huge gulp anyway, and by the time they parked in the lot behind Wanna Waffle, her tantrums had evaporated along with three quarters of the lemonade. Jeannie never raged for long. She wasn’t kidding about her limited energy reserves.
Groceries were stowed, bags loaded into the trunk.
Evan came to shake their hands and Jiyeon promised to text Jeannie when they made it to Monroe.
There was a second trip to the car; her parents insisted on sending them with enough food for an expedition to the South Pole.
Then they had a moment to themselves while Denny loitered in the dining room, forever coming up with ‘one last reminder’ about running the shop while he was gone.
Eunjae took a picture of the weathered doorstop. “Eight weeks,” he said. “Seems like plenty of time for things to go wrong.”
“It’ll go by fast. We’ll be alright.” Jiyeon had expected more resistance from Eunjae.
He’d certainly objected at first, but his protests didn’t last. Maybe he was just too worried about Ezra.
Maybe it was the impending arrival of Leila, or the prospect of navigating two months in close proximity to his family after years of separation. She figured it was all of the above.
Jiyeon dropped the car keys into her pocket and hugged him, hard. “I’ll kick your mom into next week,” she offered, her voice muffled by Eunjae’s sweater. It finally got a laugh out of him.
“I’d owe you five more songs.”
“Works for me. Then you’d have to stick around.”
His hand came to rest against her hair, fingers combing through the waves she’d left loose. “I’m doing that anyway.”