Twenty #2
They entered a street with faded paint and older cars. Valerie started counting down the houses out loud but stopped after the first two. Nico wouldn’t want to hear it. She finished silently to herself. Thirty-three. Thirty-one. There it was. Twenty-nine.
Nico parked and they stared at the small but comfortable house, with an apple tree in the front and some juniper bushes along the porch. Vibrant orange daylilies poured over a short wooden fence to tangle over the sidewalk.
“Does she know we’re coming?” Valerie asked.
Nico shook his head, but pointed at the driveway. “Someone’s home though.”
Valerie grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go.” Then she stopped, uncertain. “I mean, or you. I can stay in the car.”
Nico took his hand off the wheel. “Enough.”
“Enough of what?”
“This.” He waved between them. “This awkwardness.”
She cringed in her seat. “Sorry.”
Nico looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Valerie. Are you upset with me?”
“No.” She wasn’t either. She was only worried about misstepping again. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
She regarded him doubtfully because while she believed him, that left a swath of other negative emotions that he might be feeling. Antipathy. Irritation. Overall exasperation. “Okay.”
“Do you believe me?” he pressed.
“Do we have to do this in front of potential Yvette’s house?”
“Yes. We’ve been tiptoeing around each other but both of us claim we’re fine. What’s the problem?”
Valerie wanted to get out of the car and run. She liked talking, but this was getting deep and Nico was already not thrilled with her.
“I don’t want to bother you,” she said finally. “I know I’m a lot, and people can usually only deal with me when they’re in a good mood.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? You told me the same thing about your sister. Too much drama.” She kept her gaze on the house. A wreath of pink flowers decorated the door and she wondered if they were real.
“It’s not the same. It’s like Stefanie sees me being different as something I do at her, like a challenge. You don’t.” He stared at the wheel. “I know I’m not the best conversationalist. My ex said I’m like talking to a wall sometimes.”
“She’s wrong,” said Valerie heatedly. “I like talking to you.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Thanks.”
She waited with raised eyebrows, and when he didn’t add anything else said, “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“Come on, you know what.”
He relented. “I like talking to you too.”
“Oh, thanks!” That made him laugh, and she felt better. She sighed and looked at her hands. “Can we agree we weren’t thinking and we apologize?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance over, then away, as if shy. “I agree to that. Do you?”
“I also agree.” She couldn’t help smiling now, feeling a thousand times better.
They shook hands formally over the console; then Nico pointed to the house. “Ready?”
“Ready.” She was out the door so fast Nico had to jog to catch up to her, but she stopped with her hand raised to knock. She lowered it and looked at him.
“You knock,” she whispered. “Look.”
Her hand was shaking, so Nico did, rapping loud enough for Valerie to wince.
No answer.
He knocked again.
This time they heard a faint call from inside. “Coming, coming!” It was a man.
Valerie’s hand crept over and took his as she tucked into his side for comfort, happy they’d made up so she could. “This is it,” she whispered.
When the door opened, it revealed a tall Asian man in faded jeans and salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a curious expression and held a wooden spoon.
“Yes?” he asked, keeping a hand on the doorframe. The smell of onions and garlic drifted out.
“We’re looking for Yvette Tsui,” said Nico. “Is she in?”
The man looked surprised. “Why?”
Nico paused and Valerie knew he didn’t have a good reason. “We have some mail that was accidentally delivered to us,” she said, hoping it sounded realistic. “We happened to be passing by and thought we’d drop it off.”
“That’s kind.” He held out his hand. “I can take it.”
“We have to hand it to her directly,” said Valerie, hoping that if it wasn’t true, the man didn’t have enough detailed knowledge of Canada Post legalities to challenge her. She buzzed with anticipation.
“Bo?” called a woman’s voice from inside the house. “Who is it? The sauce is going to burn.”
“Some people have mail for you.”
A woman appeared at the door, shadowed by the threshold.
“Yvette Tsui?” asked Nico finally.
She lifted her face and stepped into the sun. “That’s me.”
Nico and Valerie stared in shock.
They’d finally found Yvette Tsui.
Roger was going to lose it.
Because it wasn’t their Yvette.
First, this woman looked like she was only in her late thirties.
Second, she was white, with blue eyes and pale-brown hair brushing her shoulders.
“You’re Yvette?” asked Valerie, glancing at Nico. “You?”
The woman burst out laughing. “Last time I checked. How can I help you?” She squeezed her husband’s hand. “I’m good.”
He left to rescue his sauce.
“I thought you’d be Chinese,” Valerie blurted. She covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat on her cheeks. “That’s so rude. I’m sorry.”