Shreya straightens, looking dazed. “Yes?”
“You’ll be the new director of operations. Sunny will stay in her role, but my sister and I will be leaving the rest up to you.”
Shreya’s mouth drops and I reach over to squeeze her hand. “You will be amazing.”
“I’m proud of everything we’ve done together,” Halmoni says, her voice perilously close to cracking. Lila and Matteo clutch each other. Seeing Halmoni cry would turn them into dust, I think. “I want to thank you all for being integral to One & Only’s success. We couldn’t do it without you.”
Before we can all burst into tears, Emoni and Halmoni stand up and give everyone hugs and goodbyes. “We still have to do casino night,” Emoni says to Matteo.
“If I hear any of you treat Cassia differently from me, Iwillruin your life,” Halmoni says as her last words.
And then I’m left with a room full of staring employees. I tell them to get back to work and we’ll have time to adjust to everything soon enough. It’s a lot to take in—this level of responsibility. I sit bymyself in the conference room and feel the weight settle on my shoulders as I stare out the window overlooking the courtyard.
When we rebuilt the second story, Sunny and Emoni petitioned to also rehab the landscaping. Thanks to them it’s been transformed into a tranquil space with blooming pale-barked palo verde trees and blue-green grasses lying low to the ground. A water feature has been added, a little babbling creek running alongside the picnic table and benches set up there.
I go outside and sit down on one of the bright-yellow benches, its metal back rounded gracefully. It’s insanely comfortable and I find myself lying down on it, stretched out with my sandal-clad feet hanging off the end.
I gaze up at the fluttering desert willow leaves where sunlight filters through. The sky is that hazy powder blue specific to late summer in Los Angeles.
Something glimmers in the corner of my eye under the tree. I walk over to it and find a small stone statue of a bird sitting in front of a low bush of yellow flowers, Feathery Cassia, almost obscured by the happy blooms. Not just any bird. Betty. The combination of both these things makes my eyes water. And I know it even before I see the words written under Betty’s little figure.
In Memory of Evette Park
51
Venice is bumper-to-bumper on the Friday night of Marcella’s new restaurant opening. I’ve got the Park women in my car, all grumbling about the traffic. As if it’s a surprise. But they never leave their little corner of Hancock Park anymore, becoming true fixtures with the Korean ladies who lunch at Larchmont. Especially now that two of them have been retired for weeks.
“I can’t believe Marcella actually opened a restaurant all the way outhere.” Sunny says it like we’re in Antarctica. “Her commute must be a nightmare.”
I steer us down Abbot Kinney Boulevard, past various boutiques selling very cute but expensive goods. “Well, she’s only going to have to do it for a couple months. Hopefully, it’ll manage to run itself after that.”
We pull up to the valet stand and pour out of the car. Halmoni looks up at the black-and-white-striped awning and the cheery lights draped across it. She gives a curt nod of approval. “Nice spot.”
“Greatspot,” I say as we walk into the restaurant, the door left open to let people stream in and out.
It’s bustling in the beautiful space. There’s a U-shaped oyster barset in the middle of the restaurant with little tables and cozy booths placed around it. The lighting is dim and the walls are painted a pale blue. It’s warm and welcoming and feels like Marcella.
“Auntie Cassie!” Ozzie finds me across the room and runs to me. I swoop her into my arms.
“Hi, bud. Where’s your mom?” I ask her. She points to the bar and I see Mar squeezed into a group of people. We make eye contact and I make a kissy-face and she returns it, her face glowing. I’m so proud of my friend I could burst.
Logan and Mica find us and I grab drinks for everyone before we get seated. It’s a friends and family soft opening, so we’ll be eating everything off the menu and I seriously can’t wait. I didn’t eat all day in anticipation of this.
I’m carrying a French 75 and a glass of wine to our table when I stop in my tracks. Seated next to Halmoni is Ellis. He looks heartbreakingly good in a soft-cream polo sweater and black jeans, no socks, and black moccasins. His head is bent toward Halmoni’s as he listens to her with a smile on his face, his hair falling forward in front of his eyes a little bit.
I try to keep my composure as I walk over.
He looks up and only his eyes register that he sees me. From the flicker I see there, I’m very glad I decided on the clingy dress with the flattering neckline. I place the drinks down. “Hey there.”
“Hi.” He straightens. “Your grandmother and aunts invited me.” There’s a nervous note in there, the quickness in its delivery.
“Oh, did they?” I bore holes into the heads of the Park women, who are suddenlyquitebusy looking at the menus. And the only seat open is next to Ellis. So, I take my drink and sit next to him. “I’m so sorry that they pressured you. I know you needed time,” I say in a low voice.
“They didn’t,” he shakes his head. “And I did, but—”
We’re interrupted by a glass being clinked loudly. I tell my stupid nerves to stop jangling and that annoying flash of hope to die a quick death, focusing my attention on my best friend, whose night this is. Marcella’s standing on the bar, absolutely gorgeous in emerald green trousers, her curly hair piled on her head, her lips a fire-engine red. She grins and says, “Before we all start gorging ourselves, I wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you. You’ve all helped me and this restaurant in one way or another. Please eat, drink, and be merry. This is for you.”
The first dish is ferried out by smart servers wearing crisp black-and-white gingham aprons. It’s a fish ceviche, filled with slivers of onions and a tart lemony marinade. A plate is placed between Ellis and me, and we both politely insist the other start first.
