“Something like that,” I admit.
“That’s impressive. Congrats. Depending on how quickly we grow, I may need to enlist your services. We’ll see how things go with the business.”
I want to ask how fast they’re growing and what plans they have for ZodiaCupid, but I can’t bring myself to interrogate him any further. I don’t know why I thought Bennett was going to divulge his company’s secrets to someone he just met. Well, met again.
When our elbows distractingly brush against each other for the fifth time, I know it’s time to call it a night. “I should get home. I have a busy day tomorrow. Thanks for the ice cream.”
“Absolutely.” Bennett checks his watch for the time. “I didn’t realize how late it was. This was fun, Olivia.”
“It was something, B.O.B.”
Bennett laughs. “Yeah, sorry about that. My engineer convinced me to make a profile. He said it would be good for me to know what’s happening on the ground level. My team has been encouraging me to go on dates to try the app out. Work has been pretty busy, so this is my first.”
A sliver of me is thrilled that he wasn’t trying to go on dates with someone who wasn’t me. I finish my cone and throw this thought away along with my napkin.
“I can imagine. So you’re here to do research for work,” I clarify, leaving out the “too.” The irony is slightly amusing.
Bennett stuffs a hand into his pocket. “You could say that, but I’m really glad I came. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again. Maybe I can get your number this time? Then we’ll need a little less fate to see each other.”
“You mean a little less algorithm?” I tease, taking his phone from him.
His cheeks turn rosy pink. I reluctantly type my number into his phone so we can take our conversation off ZodiaCupid. The only conversation I ever plan on having with him is about what plans he has up his coral-colored sleeves.
Bennett awkwardly holds his arms out and pauses, signaling that he’d like to give me a hug. I hesitantly reach up and hug back. My arms rest against his firm shoulders, and in this close proximity, I learn that he smells like musk. And mooncake filling.
It takes a second before we realize we’ve lingered. We pull apart, and I adjust the strap of my bag, the chrysanthemums swinging to the side.
“It was nice officially meeting you,” Bennett says.
We smile at each other. I’m in denial that I actually enjoyed myself.
“It was nice meeting you, too, asshole.”
Chapter 6
My instincts guide me as I follow the path I’ve walked for years. With Lunar Love in sight, I step off to the side to admire the building. Four days into my first week and I still have butterflies tumbling and turning in my stomach. Lunar Love’s red exterior, pink window trim, and pink door have remained the same since the very beginning. Pó Po was insistent on the shop’s colors symbolizing luck and happiness.
When I was younger, both the inside and outside of the building felt old-fashioned, as if all the shops in Chinatown were supposed to look a certain way. Now I appreciate the parts of the neighborhood that still exude tradition among a growing influx of trendier eateries and art galleries. To the right of our building, what used to be a bookstore is now a to-be-determined renovated office or retail space. The construction hasn’t started yet for the day, so I’ll have some quiet time to myself.
It was only a year ago that the inside of Lunar Love looked completely different than it does now. Since Day One, the walls and ceilings were painted a deep crimson. The furniture was dark and heavy, and there was an overabundance of stuff: boxes filled with client documents from decades prior, books and torn posters, and bags of donations. It took me eight months to convince Auntie to let me redesign the place.
My design goals were simple: clean and aspirational, yet still traditional. When clients visit, I want them to feel like anything is possible. That a new chapter is just beginning. This meant repainting the walls off-white and hanging local artists’ work that reflected the tangled, abstract, beautiful emotions of love. Clunky chairs were replaced by the minimal sets of mid-century modern ones I scored at flea markets. Finding love is stressful enough. The place you go to find it should be calming and reassuring.
Even the name Lunar Love is simple and straightforward yet full of significance. The lunar horoscope was created because of the moon’s movements and phases, which people interpreted and assigned meaning to. Each of the twelve animal signs and its accompanying personalities rules a lunar year. The lunar calendar, based on the moon’s phases in a month, is the guide for determining the most auspicious dates for momentous events.
When Pó Po chose the name, she wanted her business to reflect the power of the moon, both physically and figuratively. More than just making the name modest, Pó Po also simplified the business concept in an attempt to keep it alive. She realized that Westerners were more interested in zodiac matchmaking when it wasn’t too complicated. She figured out how to streamline the magic of it all in order to avoid losing intimidated clients.
Just as she did, I need to figure out which changes to make that feel right for Lunar Love. The speeches and toasts and gold necklaces are special, but that’s not what any of this is about. I’m carrying Pó Po, Auntie, and Lunar Love’s legacy into the future. What I do from now on is the true test of what I’m made of and what the business can withstand in these changing, challenging times.
I walk toward the rear of the space where one of the three rooms in our building is designated as an office. Across from the waiting area is the Session Room, where we meet with clients.
I flip through the pile of mail, assessing the damage. Some marketing, some wrong address, but mostly bills. I drop them onto the teetering pile of mail Auntie left on my desk, which I discover contains even more bills. Before I have the chance to tackle my emails, I hear the front door close, followed by the sound of a woman calling out into the waiting area.
“Hi there. Can I help you?” I ask, rushing out of the office to greet the unexpected guest.
“Yes, I’m looking for Lydia. Is she here?” the lady asks. She looks professional chic in her baby blue pantsuit. Inside her oversized leather bag, I spot two eyes shining back at me and then hear a small yip. The woman lifts the bag to her face and coos into the small opening. “Don’t mind Poppy. She’s friendly.”
“Lydia’s not here. Did you have an appointment?” I ask, thinking I might have overlooked one of Auntie’s clients. “We’re transitioning all of her clients over to me and my colleague. Sorry if we—”
