Lottery (3 page)

“Oh, let’s see.” Ling looked up, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “My father owns a dry cleaning business in Chinatown. Only child.” She glanced across the table at him. “And you?”

“One older brother. Not in touch with him, however. Father’s an architect in Nebraska. Mom taught kindergarten until a couple of years ago.” Caleb paused. “Have you always lived here? In California?”

“Went to college back east. I was so homesick for my family I couldn’t wait to get back.”

Caleb looked away. “I haven’t seen my parents for years.”

“Years?” She leaned over and laid her hand over his, sending a shiver through him. “I’m sorry.”

Caleb prayed she wouldn’t ask anymore and, if she did, he wouldn’t tell the truth. His childhood was not something he enjoyed talking about.

“So, how’d you end up in California?” she asked.

“Right after graduation, I got a job offer from an ad agency in Kansas City. Lots of creative guys around, but for some reason they thought I was more creative than others.” He drew in a breath. “A couple of years later, I accepted an offer here. What single guy from the Midwest wouldn’t take an offer to live in the city by the bay, right?”

“Never been married?”

Caleb changed positions.

Ling put up a hand and leaned forward. “Oh, God, I apologize. None of my business. Forgot to turn the filter on.”

Caleb shook his head. “Not a problem. I was married for a couple of years.” He glanced at Ling, who was twirling a straw wrapper around her finger. “She left me.”

Ling looked up at him. “Oh gosh … I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it was a shocker. Left me for her plastic surgeon.”

Ling leaned forward. “Plastic surgeon?”

“She wanted her nose done and got a two-for-one deal; a new nose
and
new husband.”

“I hope you didn’t pay for it.”

“I paid the bill
before
she told me she was leaving,” Caleb said seriously.

Ling looked down and then covered her mouth with one hand. “Are you … laughing?” he asked.

“Oh my God, that’s such a sad story … really. But …” She bit her lower lip. “You realize you paid him to take your wife, don’t you? I mean, you should have at least gotten a discount, right?”

Caleb’s frown started to disappear.

“Good riddance to her,” Ling said. “Women like that are a dime a dozen, especially in California.”

“What about you?” Caleb was feeling more confident. “You have anything earth-shattering happen in your life?”

Her expression turned grave, her eyes focused, gazing into his. “Yes.”

Her somber tone frightened Caleb, as he didn’t want her to tell him anything that would break the spell of his attraction. Not now.

“I’m a virgin twice removed,” she whispered in a serious tone, and then leaned back in her chair.

Caleb broke into laughter. “Only twice? You might want to write to the Guinness Book of World Records.” God, she was amazing; direct, honest and, as far as he could tell, smart and down-to-earth.

“Raised strict. Listened to advice … well … most of it.” She paused. “This Weber guy. Is he a good friend?” She took a bite of the warm sausage and mushroom pizza, the melted cheese dripping onto her plate.

“I wouldn’t know how to categorize him.” Caleb leaned back in his chair. “He travels a lot. When he’s in town, we hang out.”

“Judging by where he lives, he must have money.”

“That’s an understatement.” Caleb slid the last bite of his pizza into his mouth.

At almost twelve-thirty, they were the last two in the restaurant. He never wanted this night to end.

“I should get home,” she said. “Usually, Friday is movie night on the couch.”

Caleb stood, pulling a few dollar bills out of his pocket as a tip. “And you decided to skip your routine and come to Weber’s because?”

She pushed her purse strap over her shoulder. “Because I met you.”

“I’m thirty-three,” he blurted.

“I’m twenty-eight.” She cocked her head to the side. “Too old for you?” She laced her arm through his as they walked to the door.

“Let me get you a cab.” He paused, getting ready to face a rejection. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, Weber is taking a few people on his yacht.”

“Sounds fun.” Ling looked up into his eyes. “That is, if you give me your word you’re not married.”

He put his index and middle fingers up. “Scout’s honor.”

Lying in bed later, staring up at the ceiling, Caleb thought about Ling. He’d never been one of those guys who dated multiple women at one time. In fact, he was somewhat backward when it came to approaching the opposite sex. When he was with Ling tonight, however, he felt as if he needed to protect her; care for her like no other man could, and be the one person she could always depend on. He had to remind himself to take it slow or he might scare her away. People had told him that it took a long time to know if they’d found the person they could spend the rest of their lives with. But Caleb knew immediately. He knew he could fall in love with her the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Before he pursued her, he needed to get this debt taken care of. What woman would want a man who was in deep shit with a low-life bookie; especially someone as classy as Ling Jameson?

Tomorrow when he saw Weber, if Caleb had to get down on his knees and beg for the money, he would. He had one shot at winning Ling, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

ing Jameson had the cab let her out at the entrance of Chinatown. Even though she had lived here forever, she still enjoyed the walk up the street to her apartment.

Walking underneath the jade green roof of the entrance into the largest Chinatown outside of Asia, she couldn’t imagine not living here and being a part of the culture. She couldn’t envision herself not volunteering at the Asia Art Museum, or at the Chinese Culture Center, and teaching the traditional Chinese dances at the YMCA.

Heading north on Grand, she slowed as she passed Old St. Mary’s Cathedral. The large clock-face on the steeple was just a couple of minutes away from both hands being on one. Ling always felt a sense of peace when she passed the church.

When she reached the Eastern Bakery, she stopped and looked through the picture window, her eyes settling on the flaky pastry. Her mouth watered as she thought of the smooth, creamy filling inside the egg custards or, what Ling grew up as calling dan tats.

Two doors away from the bakery, she pushed her key into the lock and opened the door. Hurrying up the steep steps to the
second floor, she was halfway to her apartment when she heard the familiar creek of a door open. “Mama?” she whispered.

The door opened further, and she saw her mother’s dark eyes through the crack of the door of her parents’ apartment that was across from Ling’s.

“I not want you see me,” her mother said in broken English. Even when Mei Wu Jameson got up in the morning, her short, coarse white hair always looked combed. And rarely had Ling seen her mother without a smile on her weathered face.

Ling put a hand on her hip. “Why do you do this? Wait up for me?”

Her mother shrugged her shoulder. “Not know.”

Above the dry-cleaning business that Ling’s father owned were two small apartments. Ling’s parents, Samuel and Mei, had lived in one of the apartments since the day they were married. Ling’s Chinese grandmother had lived in the apartment across the hall until she’d passed. And when Ling graduated from college, she took over the vacant apartment.

“Tea?” Mei asked.

“All right, you little stalker.” Ling rolled her eyes. “I know you’re not going to let me go until I tell you where I’ve been.” She walked down the narrow hallway, and into her parents’ small apartment. The dim lighting threw a reverent glow over the gold Buddha statue that was proudly displayed on a table in one corner; the aroma of incense prominent. The same couch Ling sat on throughout her childhood was pushed against one wall, and a dinette set that had belonged to Ling’s late grandmother sat below the window overlooking the street.

In the kitchen, Mei took the tea kettle off the two-burner stove and turned on the spigot.

“Mama,” Ling said and leaned back into the counter, “when are you going to get a bigger place?”

“I not need bigger place.” Mei set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. “We needed bigger place when you grow up, but not so much now.”

Although Mei had been in the states for over thirty years, being shy, she’d had little interaction with the public and would probably never perfect the English language. Ling’s parents were private people who worked hard. When there was a day off, they spent it with each other.

Being three inches shorter than Ling, Mei’s curious half-moon eyes looked up into her daughter’s. “So?”

“So?” Ling mimicked.

Mei slapped Ling’s arm playfully. “You not make fun of mother. Not respectful.”

The tea kettle hummed softly and moved quickly to a higher pitch. Mei grabbed the handle of the pot and took it off the stove. She poured hot water into two hand-painted china tea cups.

Ling dipped the tea bag in and out of each cup a few times. “Okay, Ms. Detective, I did meet a new friend. His name is Caleb.”

“Oh.” Mei’s eyes grew wide, the dark bags underneath them folding into creases. “That nice name.”

Ling wrapped her fingers inside the delicate handle of the cup. “Why do you want me married off? Wouldn’t you miss me?”

“I want grandbabies.” Mei took the steaming cup of tea with her as she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She pulled out a chair that sat on one side of the small dining room table, set her cup down, and adjusted the belt on her worn terry-cloth robe.

Ling looked out the window at the familiar streetlights. The bright red paper lanterns strung over the streets swayed in sync with the gentle breeze. “It would be hard to leave here, wouldn’t it?” Ling asked.

Mei gazed out the window, her eyes glazing over as if decades of memories played through her head. “This is home.” She nodded across the street at the sign with the bright yellow words Old Shanghai Restaurant written on it. “We would miss too much.” She brought the tea cup to her lips. “You like new boy?”

“Mom” Ling answered. “Remember, I’m twenty-eight. I just met him, so I have no idea.”

A knowing smile crossed Mei’s face. “Oh, we know. Chinese know. I know the first time I see your father.”

“You knew you were going to marry my father the first time you met him?”

“Ah, yes. He have eyes for me. I have eyes for him.”

Ling reached across the table and laid her hand over her mother’s blue-veined hand. “It’s a whole new world now.”

Mei put up a finger. “Ahhh … not so different.” She clasped Ling’s hand in hers and squeezed. “Not so different.”

“I need to get some sleep,” Ling said and stood. Her mother walked her to the door. Ling leaned over and kissed Mei on the forehead. “Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”

Mei pointed an arthritic finger at Ling. “You’ll know one day. You’ll know when you have own daughter.”

“I know, Mama, I know.” Ling blew Mei a kiss and closed the door.

Ling walked across the hallway and opened the door to her own apartment. Shoes were lined up to the right of the door; a black wrought iron coat hanger stood on the left. The one-bedroom apartment was small, yet homey. Framed pictures of Ling with her parents and grandmother were perched on the two windowsills in the living room-kitchen combination. A tweed sectional took up most of the space in the living area. Classic, romance, and self-help books filled the bookcase sandwiched against one wall.