The cab had brought them to a bustling street downtown, a part of the city where Florence had never been before and Vivian had visited only once. It felt like a different world from the corner of the city where she lived. The clamor of voices as they climbed out of the cab rose in a mixture of languages. But the buildings leaned drunkenly against each other the same as they did at home, as though if you slid one out of place the rest would topple over like dominos. Vivian couldn’t read the bright signs painted with Chinese characters, but the window full of bolts of cloth clearly belonged to a tailor, the one with plucked birds hanging from the ceiling had to be a butcher, and the sweltering heat was the same as any other part of New York.
When they climbed out of the cab, Florence’s hand squeezed Vivian’s arm almost painfully as she stared around them. “A chop suey place?” she whispered, seeing the building Danny was leading them toward. “Is that his parents’ restaurant?”
“I guess so,” Vivian whispered back. “I’ve never been here before.”
Danny glanced back at them, and Vivian was surprised to see a look of uncertainty on his face, the first time she had seen the devil-may-care bartender look anything less than fully confident. But there was also something in his expression that might have been pride.
Vivian cleared her throat. “Leo said your family owns two restaurants.”
Danny grinned, suddenly back to his normal swagger. “My uncle took over their old place on Mott Street, and my parents opened this one last year. Everybody loves chop suey these days, even outside the Chinese neighborhood.” He gave them an encouraging smile as he swung the door open and gestured expansively. “Welcome.”
The interior was bright, painted in red and gold, cream and black, the floor filled with spindly tables set in neat lines. Electric bulbs decorated with shades of gold paper hung from the ceiling, but not manyof them were turned on at this time of day; most of the light streamed from the front window. To one side, a staircase leading up had a twisted red rope strung across it. A door at the back of the room was outlined in light, and from it came a clattering of pans and the wafting aroma of dinner being prepared.
Vivian took a deep breath. The food was different than in their part of the city, but the smell of good cooking was comforting, no matter where you were.
The room was currently empty of customers, and Vivian glanced nervously at Danny. “Is it all right for us to be here?”
“They close between lunch and dinner to give everyone a little break. But no one’s going to throw you out,” he said, just in time for a man to shout from the kitchen, “We are not open for business!”
“Only me, Ba!” Danny called back. “Me and some friends.”
A man’s head poked around the kitchen door so quickly that Vivian nearly jumped, though she should have been expecting it. His face was lined and his hair beginning to gray around the temples, but otherwise he could have been Danny’s twin, down to the sharp line of his jaw and his expressive eyebrows. Currently those eyebrows were drawn into a scowl, and as he came into the front room he began speaking rapidly in what Vivian assumed was Chinese.
Danny responded in the same language, his voice relaxed in spite of his father’s obvious displeasure, then gestured at his small entourage. “Florence, Vivian, meet my father, Mr. Chin. Ba, Vivian’s a friend from work, and Florence is her sister.”
“How do you do, Mr. Chin?” Florence said politely, holding out her hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.” Vivian quickly echoed her sister.
Mr. Chin’s scowl faded as he shook Florence’s hand, then Vivian’s, his expression polite but wary. And he still gave his son a narrow-eyed glance. “You have not brought people from your other job here before.”
“No, but the girls are in a bit of a jam and need some help.”
Mr. Chin held up a quick hand. “I do not want to know.”
“It’s not about work,” Danny sighed. “Their neighborhood’s a little rough right now, and they need somewhere to stay until things quiet down.”
“Eh, New York.” Mr. Chin shook his head, a look of reluctant sympathy on his face. “It is a hell of a place to live these days. So you want these girls to stay here?”
“Ma would say yes, and you know it.”
“Your mother would let every—” Mr. Chin gave the girls a sideways glance, then switched languages again. He and Danny exchanged quick words before he finally threw up his hands. “Fine, fine. Sit, all of you. Food first, and then we will talk about it more. And then you will put in your hours in the kitchen?” he asked, turning sharply to Danny, who nodded. Mr. Chin sighed, then nodded, rubbing one palm across his thinning hair and muttering under his breath as he pushed back through the door into the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” Vivian asked as they settled into a table. “We don’t have to stay if it’s causing any trouble.”
“It’s fine,” Danny reassured her. “Ma will say yes, and she’ll bring him around. They just don’t want anyone finding out about my second job. And they worry about me.” He sighed. “I don’t like making them worry. So we usually don’t talk about it. I get a nap in the morning, then work the kitchen in the afternoon with my cousins. But the cash helps—that’s how they were able to buy this place and still have money to send home. Besides.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin returning. “I like my job. More than the restaurant, to be honest.”
“It’s a very nice restaurant, though,” Florence said, looking around. She was sitting on the edge of her chair and fiddling with the handle of her purse. Her suitcase perched beside her chair, as though they might be told to leave at any moment.
“The food’s good too,” Danny said, that edge of nervous pride once again clear in his voice. “Not many businesses Chinese folks are allowed to own in this city,” he added, a scowl briefly creasing hishandsome face before he shrugged. “It’s restaurants or laundromats. Murder on your back either way, but food’s more fun than cleaning clothes.”
There was a clatter from the kitchen, and he sprang up as a tiny, dark-haired woman, the skin around her eyes creased with laugh lines, came out bearing a large tray of food. She paused for a moment, sizing them up before she handed the tray to Danny. When Florence and Vivian tried to stand up to help, she waved them off.
“Sit down and let him do the work. He does not have to suffer through high heels on his feet.” Her own shoes, Vivian noticed, were flat and practical. Danny rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem offended as he laid out the food. “Don’t tell your father I gave you the newest batch of buns,” she whispered as he laid the final dish on the table.
“You’re the best, Ma,” Danny said, giving her a quick, one-armed hug.
“Of course I am,” she agreed, smiling and giving him a pat on his cheek as she took a seat at their table. “Introduce me to these girls.”
“Ma, this is Florence Kelly and her sister, Vivian.”
