Chapter 3
Hua Caihong
Tang dynasty. Brought the Hua family out from hiding with the death of Empress Wu, who had agents searching for traces of Aiai or her descendants after her escape.
Heart note // Increase daring
Base note // Cinnamon
I slowly circle back to the buffet, mechanically answering the people who stop me to share their condolences.
A deep shakiness fills my bones that could be due to too much stress, too little food, or excessive caffeine.
Kelsey waves at me again, this time more aggressively, so I give in to the inevitable and take my plate of sandwiches to the corner she’s colonized with her children.
My niece, Sophie, and her little brother, Owen, are curled up on the leather couch, playing on various devices.
“It’s a long day for kids,” says Kelsey when she tracks my gaze. “I usually limit their screen time.”
I shrug, not caring in the least. If anything, I’m jealous they get to withdraw into their digital worlds.
I don’t know Kelsey very well, as she and Eric met after I left Vancouver, but my mother’s politesse is indication enough that Kelsey isn’t her favorite person.
Their relationship isn’t helped by the fact that my mother is suspicious of anyone coming close to the family.
When they first started to get serious, she made Eric promise not to tell Kelsey about our moli.
I’d been home on a rare visit and had never seen him so angry.
“What makes you think she’d care?” he snapped. “It’s not like it’s going to affect my kids if we have any. You made it clear enough growing up that I wasn’t part of this.”
“That’s unfair and untrue.” Mom stood to her full height, which brought her to Eric’s shoulder. “I want you to promise.”
“Jesus, do you hear yourself? Trust me when I say I have no plans to tell her. Her family doesn’t need another reason to think I’m different.
Being Chinese is enough.” He shot me a glance that could have been either malicious or triumphant.
“Not that it matters, since it seems the precious so-called Hua magic ends with you, Mom. Right, Lucy?”
I’m returned to the present by Sophie, who spies the plate in my hand and rises to her knees on the couch, digging her shoes into the cushions. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
Kelsey smiles. “I’m sure your aunt won’t mind sharing.”
I do mind, as I haven’t eaten since last night, but dutifully hand over the plate. Sophie pokes her finger into each of the sandwiches I stacked into a perfect pyramid, before making a face. “I want chocolate.”
Kelsey glances over at me, her pale eyebrows raised as she hands back the plate, and I sigh.
When I return, it’s with a plate overflowing with cakes and cookies, which I put down in front of the kids as Kelsey’s lips thin. “That’s a lot of sugar,” she says.
“Is it?” I ask innocently.
She lowers her voice as the kids fight viciously over the single chocolate cupcake I included. “How much longer do you think this will last? Eric wasn’t sure.”
Although I’m also dying for today to end, coming from Kelsey, the question rubs me the wrong way. “I suppose as long as it takes for people to finish paying their respects.” I try to keep my tone neutral.
“Right, of course,” she says. “I’m glad to have caught you. I have a favor to ask.”
“You do?” This gets my full attention, and I turn to face her.
Kelsey is blond, and her natural freckles have been transformed into indistinct blotches under a thick mat of foundation.
Her dark-burgundy dress—red, Mom muttered to me as she walked in, her tone saying everything—is tight under the arms and across the hips.
Her hand keeps drifting down to yank it into a more comfortable fit.
“I’m sure Eric told you I’ve gone back to work,” she says. “With the kids in school, I want to start exploring my personal growth through my career. Owen, don’t hit your sister.”
Eric hadn’t told me, but it’s not like we talk. “You were in banking before you had kids, weren’t you?” I ask.
“Yes, but I wanted a change to something more creative. I’m doing luxury gift bags for special events. Very exclusive.”
“Oh?” I look out at the crowd. On the other side of the room, my mother is speaking to a man who was one of Waipo’s first clients, his back bent almost horizontal over his cane and his still-full white hair styled razor-sharp.
“It’s not one of those pyramid schemes,” Kelsey says.
“Of course,” I say in surprise. “I wouldn’t think it was.”
“It’s a young company with a lot of room for growth,” she says. “Owen, what did I say? Sophie, stop annoying your brother.” The kids ignore her.
“That’s great about the job,” I say.
“I knew you’d be supportive.” Her dusty-rose lipstick has worn to a ring around the edges of her mouth. “I’d love for you to supply some samples of your perfume.”
I stare at her, the dinging of some game coming from the couch, and she mistakes my look for interest instead of shock that she’s trying to do business at Waipo’s funeral.
“It’s a good opportunity for you to build awareness for your little shop. We have an extremely discerning clientele for the luxury gift bags,” she says. “I was thinking of asking your mother, but when I mentioned it to Eric, he said you needed it more.”
“I bet he did,” I mutter, wondering how many times she can say luxury gift bags. Well, Kelsey is family. “Email me the details, and we can work out a discount rate.”
“Discount?” Her smile fades. “I thought you would do it for the visibility. Sophie, watch your brother. We supplied the Trantor Art Gallery opening, and the bridesmaid-proposal boxes and gift bags for Olivia Carlwood’s wedding.
This is a chance for you to get your product in front of people who matter. ”
I have no idea what or who those are, but I do know I don’t have the capacity to negotiate this at my grandmother’s funeral. “We can talk when you send me the details,” I say firmly. “Oh, excuse me, there’s someone I should speak to.”
“Sure, sure. This is a great turnout,” she says. “I’ll be in touch.”
I slip away and am in the corner eating a tasteless sandwich, the edges of the bread already drying out, when my brother comes up. “Lot of people,” Eric says.
It’s the third time he’s said a variation of this since the event started, so I only nod.
“She left everything to Mom,” he continues, eyes scanning the room. “Not a penny to you or me.”
I don’t want to talk about this here, but if I shush him in any way, Eric will go ballistic. It’s easier to play along.
“Kind of to be expected, don’t you think?” I ask.
“I need the money.”
“We all need money.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one with actual responsibilities.”
I ignore that. “There wasn’t much,” I remind him. “It mostly went into Yixiang to support the business.”
“Like everything in this fucking family.”
“Not cool, Eric.”
“Hey, I tell it like it is.”
Maybe I can keep my temper by reminding myself that grief is causing him to act out like this. “Most of the value of her estate was in the heirlooms. The Qianlong vase is worth thousands.”
“Was worth.” He plucks the white chocolate macadamia-nut cookie off my plate and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He’s always stolen my food.
“What do you mean, was?”
“It’s gone.”
My head whips up. “Your kids broke a 250-year-old family treasure?”
Eric glares at me. “My kids? Why do you assume my kids broke it?”
I glance over to where they’re kicking at each other on the couch while Kelsey stares at her phone. “Huh, I don’t know.”
He takes a deep breath—deliberately, so I know it’s entirely my fault if he loses his temper. “You know where that vase went? Mom sold it.”
A cream puff falls off my plate when I jerk it up in surprise. “She what?”
“She sold it to pay rent on the store.”
“The store. Yixiang? Why didn’t Dad help?”
“Have you thought maybe Dad is tired of supporting Mom’s hobby?”
I want to slap his self-righteous face. “You know it’s not a hobby. That’s her job. She owns a business.”
“It’s barely bringing in enough to support itself. That counts as a hobby in my book.”
“Eric.”
“Looks like you’re the one left out of the loop this time.
” My brother grins at me, and despite the artificial brightness of his teeth, it’s as cold as the ocean water that laps at the city.
“Dad lost all his money, and Mom used what she’d saved to expand Yixiang to pay their mortgage and the store rent instead. When that wasn’t enough—buh-bye, vase.”
“You’re lying.” My reply is automatic, though. Eric would do a lot of things to irritate me, but making up a story like this is a stretch.
“Too bad someone couldn’t cut it as the super-special super-daughter savior of the Huas,” he says as a parting shot. “Then we’d have that one-of-a-kind vase for my son to inherit. Mom might even be able to keep her store six months from now. God knows she loves it more than us.”
He leaves me there with a plate of crumbs, and instinctively I search the room, this time looking for my mother instead of Rafe.
I’ve always been under the impression the shop made money, and if sales of regular perfumes were stalling, the astronomically expensive moli scents covered the difference.
I didn’t account for the fact that I’m not creating, and Waipo stopped making perfumes, both moli and regular, years ago.
The store’s revenue must have been drastically diminished.
The Huas have kept a store since Hua Zhengyi opened the first one in Nanjing over a hundred years ago.
My mother and grandmother dreamed about the money to expand Yixiang into the real-life version of Waipo’s aspirational pencil sketch, framed and sitting in their lab.
If Mom not only couldn’t expand but also had to sell Yixiang, it would devastate her.
Eric wasn’t exaggerating how much she loves that place.
Dad crosses my field of vision and disappears through a door. I follow, needing confirmation but also hoping he’ll assure me it’s not that bad.
“Is it true?” I demand when I catch up to him, heart hammering. We’re in the corridor leading to the kitchen and the smell of old food sits in the stale air, ghostly celebrations for the dead.
“Lucy?” He glances down as he adjusts his blue tie. His brown eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn’t been sleeping. “What’s going on?”
I don’t bother to hint around, since my father prides himself on being a straight-talker. “Eric told me you’re in debt and Mom will have to sell the store.”
“Eric is blowing things out of proportion.” Dad shoves his hands in his pockets, and the light glints off the new gray in his hair. “You know your mother would never sell the store.”
“Then you have no money issues. None. At all.”
He takes out his hands to adjust his tie again. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. A few investments were made that didn’t pan out, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Investments?”
“Eric came across an opportunity. It was the right decision, but sometimes unexpected things happen and no one can be blamed.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze that feels more warning than loving. “We’re fine. Worry about yourself.”
With that, he turns away to head back to the reception. I watch him go. So Eric lost money as well. That must be why Kelsey is going back to work, however much she dresses it up as her own choice. I decide to send her the perfume samples for free.
I go back to the main room, which is emptying out as people put my grandmother out of their minds and return to their lives.
My mother’s calm voice comes from my right, sounding for all the world like her old self, not a woman struggling with debt and death and a failing dream.
“Luling, let me introduce you to Henry Lai, one of…”
I smile at the man as I wonder how serious the money issue is. I can’t help; I only bring in enough for my rent and supplies for Ile de Grasse. The one way I could contribute—by creating moli perfumes—is the one path closed to me. Moving back home? Not an option.
Jennifer: It’s a unanimous decision from our judges: Lucy Hua is our champion.
Martin: She should be very proud of herself.
Jennifer: Oh, but she really shouldn’t. Good night, viewers!