Authors: Kay Keppler
“Yes,
you
can spend what
you
want, but I’m on a different budget.” Hope sighed in frustration as Baby, already inside looking at displays, ignored her. Hope gave up and followed her into the shop.
Twelve hundred dollars for a bracelet?
Hope knew she was out of touch with what nice things cost, but yikes. This was rent for a month. And this bracelet was
plastic.
Cute plastic, set with glass shiny things. But still. Twelve hundred dollars.
Inside, Baby was holding up earrings against her face in front of a mirror. Any of the earrings would have looked fabulous on her, and well they should, Hope thought, as she checked the price tags. Four hundred dollars. Hope put the earrings down.
“Baby,” she hissed. “I can’t afford anything here. We have to go to Target.”
All nearby eyes swiveled to Hope. Conversation stopped, and all movement ground to a halt. The whole store locked in a freeze-frame.
Baby swiveled slowly toward Hope, her face a horrified mask.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I said, we have to go to Target. I can’t afford these things.”
Baby blinked, her mouth open.
“I mean it,” Hope said.
Baby’s brows knitted in a look of consternation. “Go outside and meet me by the fountain in fifteen minutes.”
Hope shook her head as she left the shop, congratulating herself on ditching an unwelcome shopping companion. But Baby rejoined Hope just a few minutes later, swinging a bright shopping bag and looking like she’d never heard of a cheapskate named Hope.
“You didn’t like that store, okay,” Baby said, sitting down next to Hope. “I don’t get it, I think they have adorable things. But don’t scare me like that again.
Target.
” She shuddered.
“No, I meant it, Baby,” Hope said. “I can’t afford that jewelry. You’re right, it’s nice. But the bracelets I need are for the card games. They have to clank so that when I move my hands on the card table, I’ll notice. And I need big sunglasses to hide my eyes and a big hat to hide my face. I need stuff that’s
functional.
And
cheap.
”
Baby stared at her in shock. “You mean, you actually
want
to go to Target? For real?”
“Or someplace like that.”
Baby looked at Hope as though she’d just said she ate worms for breakfast.
“I have a car. Let’s drive,” Hope said finally.
“What kind of car?” Baby said, clearly not expecting much.
“Toyota Prius,” Hope said, and Baby sighed in resignation, having had her worst fears confirmed.
“Do I have to?” she asked.
“Big Julie said.”
“Let’s go, then,” Baby said. “But don’t ever tell
anybody
I went shopping at Target.”
“My lips are sealed,” Hope promised.
Tanner stayed at the four hundred dollar table for a few hours and left after he’d cleared three thousand dollars. When he stood up to cash out his chips, he glanced over at the three dollar table, but the Jersey guys and the mysterious Hope McNaughton who claimed she didn’t know Derek McNaughton were all gone.
Uncles, my eye.
He glanced at his watch. He’d told Troy he’d be home for dinner, but he was hungry now. Maybe he could stop by the kitchen, see Kenji, and cadge a snack before he went home.
He walked through the casino, greeting the floor managers, pit bosses, waitresses, and dealers he knew, and went to the Ginger Palace, one of the casino’s fancier restaurants that was open only for dinner. Kenji Hasegawa, the chef, would be in the back, getting ready for the evening.
Tanner said hi to the maitre d’ who was checking reservations and asked if Kenji was working. Tanner was a familiar face in the casino, and the maitre d’ waved him past the red velvet rope that barricaded the entryway without losing his look of concentration. Tanner headed toward the kitchen and pushed his way into the double swinging doors, just in time to see Kenji handing a plate of niblets to a young girl.
“Hey, Kenj,” Tanner said, sidestepping some sous chefs and bus boys who were flying around the kitchen, doing setups for the dinner crowd. He wondered whose kid that was. Couldn’t be Kenji’s. The girl was maybe ten and had blonde, wavy hair. Definitely she swam from a gene pool other than Kenji’s. Kenji was built like a sumo wrestler, even if he was the most delicate chef in Las Vegas, maybe the west coast. Plus, he’d known Kenji for years, and the guy didn’t have any kids, blonde or otherwise. “How’s it going?”
Kenji Hasegawa stood up and grinned at his friend. “It’s going,” he said. “Amber, meet Tanner.”
“Hey, Amber,” Tanner said.
“Hi,” Amber said. She barely glanced at Tanner. She’d put the little piece of sushi into her mouth and was trying to decide if she liked it.
“Amber’s trying out something new,” Kenji said. “What do you think, Amber?”“It’s very
unusual
,” Amber said cautiously.
“Let me try it,” Tanner said.
“Is that why you came in here?” Kenji asked, sliding a few pieces of sushi onto a plate for his friend. “To get something to eat?”
“That’s one reason,” Tanner said, taking the plate. “Also I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the UNLV game next week, after Troy leaves.”
“Are you kidding? I’m their biggest fan.” Suddenly he frowned at Tanner. “But I never thought you were. You’re going to college sports now?”
Tanner shrugged, looking at Amber. “Gotta do something,” he said. “You got any unagi? I don’t think Amber likes this roe much, but she’ll like unagi.”
Amber glanced at Tanner, startled. “I didn’t say I don’t like it,” she said.
“You’ll like unagi a lot better,” Tanner said. “It’s the best.”
“What is it called again?”
“Unagi. It’s barbecued…fish.” He didn’t want to tell her
eel
until she’d tried it. But unagi was made for kids. It had a delicate, slightly sweet flavor and didn’t look yucky at all.
Kenji slid a piece of the unagi roll onto Amber’s plate, and she bit into it carefully just as a sous chef, carrying a load of bok choy from the refrigerator, bumped into Amber’s stool. She clutched the wall for balance, but managed to hang onto her plate.
“Let’s go into the dining room,” Kenji said. “It’s quieter in there.”
Tanner took Amber’s plate while the girl slid off her stool. “Is your mom going to miss you?” he asked as they left the kitchen. “We don’t want her to worry.”
“She’s bringing in a delivery,” Kenji said, ahead of them and already laying out his knives on the counter. “She knows Amber’s safe with us.”
“Okay. How’d you like that unagi, Amber?”
The girl looked at Tanner, nodding. “It was
delicious.
”
“What did I tell you? The ones with crab and shrimp are great, too. Kenji is the best chef this side of the Mississippi.”
Amber nodded again. “That’s what my mom said. She was really excited when Kenji started ordering her vegetables.”
“So your mom delivers vegetables.” Tanner watched the child, who was focused on Kenji as he sharpened his blades.
“She
grows
vegetables. And then she delivers them.”
“She’s an organic farmer out toward Mesquite Springs,” Kenji said, taking his sushi knife and slicing carefully into a whole fish. Tanner watched Amber’s eyes grow round as she watched.
“And you come with her,” Tanner said, eating his own sushi.
“Sometimes. It’s more fun now that she comes here. I like to watch.”
Tanner watched Kenji’s knife slash through carrots now, slicing them into narrow strips, curly shapes, oblongs with ruffled edges—whatever his creations needed.
“Do you want to be a chef when you grow up?”
At that, Amber looked away from Kenji and focused on Tanner, her mood suddenly different.
“No!” she said fervently. “I have to make up recipes for the vegetable boxes, and I don’t understand
anything
. Nothing I put down tastes good. And look at Kenji. He’s
awesome
. I could never be like that.”
Tanner blinked. Amber had given this a lot of thought. And come to some bleak conclusions.
“Kenji’s been to cooking school,” he said. “And he’s had a ton of practice. If you did that, you’d be good, too.”
“I don’t think so,” Amber said, shaking her head, still looking upset.
“Of course you would,” Tanner said, “if you
wanted
to. Okay, maybe you don’t want to spend your whole life cutting the heads off dead fish. That wouldn’t be the worst decision you’d ever make.”
Amber grinned, glancing quickly at Kenji to see if he’d heard.
“Hey!” Kenji said. “There’s nothing wrong with cutting up fish.”
“Not for you. But for Amber—maybe you’d rather be a pastry chef,” he told the girl. “The first thing you could work on is the perfect brownie. I’ll volunteer to be your taster. I have a lot to say about brownies.”
Now Amber giggled.
Just then the swinging doors from the kitchen flew open and a blonde woman hurried through.
“There you are!” she smiled at Amber, coming up and smoothing the girl’s hair. “Sorry I took so long. We should get out of here and let these guys get back to work.” She turned to Kenji. “I hope Amber didn’t get in the way. She loves to watch.”
“She’s never a bother,” Kenji said, “as I’ve told you before. Bring her anytime.”
Amber beamed, grabbing her mother’s hand.
“Mom, this is Tanner. He thinks I should be a pastry chef.”
“You could be a pastry chef, or a nuclear physicist, or a circus clown. Anything you want.” The woman turned to look at Tanner, and Tanner felt a shock. He’d bet any money that this woman was related to Hope McNaughton. This woman was younger, for sure. But otherwise, they could be sisters.
“Tanner Wingate,” Tanner said, holding out his hand. “I was telling Amber that I’m still searching for the perfect brownie. My hopes are pinned on her.” He smiled at the girl, who grinned back at him.
“Faith McNaughton,” the woman said, shaking his hand, and Tanner felt himself grin.
He’d been right.
“You wouldn’t be related to Hope McNaughton, would you?” he asked. “I just met her this afternoon. She was playing cards with some guys from New Jersey.”
“Our uncles,” Faith said. “Hope’s my sister.”
There was that uncles line again. Unbelievable.
“Come on Amber, let’s go,” Faith said. “I told Aunt Hope that we’d all have dinner together before she goes out to play cards tonight, and I have to move the truck out of Kenji’s delivery space or he won’t be so nice next time.” The two of them started back toward the swinging doors.
“Next time bring me more cabbage, and all will be forgiven,” Kenji said, lifting his hand in farewell.
“Next time I’ll bring you a mountain of cabbage, Kenji,” Faith said.
“Mom, we don’t
have
a mountain of cabbage,” Amber whispered, looking worried.
Tanner grinned. He hoped Amber would become a pastry chef. She seemed much too practical to be a circus clown.
“See you, Amber,” he said. The girl turned around to give him a wave.
“You were right!” she called. “The unagi was the best!”
Tanner watched the two of them push through the swinging doors, and just as they disappeared into the kitchen, he heard Faith say, “So, Amber, have you decided what you want to do for your birthday next Tuesday?”
Nice kid. And now she was having a birthday. They grew up so fast.
Tanner collected his pickup and drove home to the well-maintained ranch-style house he shared with his daughter. Troy was in her bedroom trying to squeeze three cubic feet of personal items into a two-cubic-foot suitcase.
“I’ll never get everything packed,” she wailed in frustration, flopping down on her bed. The pink chenille spread, normally smoothed over the frame, was disheveled and wrinkled, much like his daughter. The open, uncooperative suitcase bounced on the mattress.
“I guess you can’t go then,” Tanner said with a grin.
“Oh, Daddy.” She scowled at the suitcase, a young woman with major packing problems, and then looked at her father, leaning against the doorframe. Suddenly her face changed, and she looked not much older than Amber, more like the little girl he had helped get ready for camp too few years ago.
“It’s so soon,” she said, her face twisting a little.
Tanner came into the room and sat down on the bed, edging his eighteen-year-old daughter over to make space. He stroked her hair.
“It’s going to be a lot different,” he said. “But you’re ready for this. You’re going to do great. You’ll make a lot of new friends. I’ll still be here. You can always call. You’ll come back at Thanksgiving. And you won’t go on any dates until you’re twenty-five.”
“Oh,
Daddy.
”
He laughed, standing up. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I think there’s enough stuff for salad and spaghetti.”
“No, there isn’t,” Troy said, bouncing off the bed. “I ate that for lunch. And I’ve been here all day, packing and stuff. And I went for a swim and I’m starving. Can we go out for Chinese?”