“He knows everything, remember, Dahee.” She sounded hopeless as she dropped my arm and ran to Minjae.
We didn’t quite make it back to the sand before the children said they were hungry, and my phone showed it was past six o’clock.
I suggested we stop at the grocery store to prepare for the week and get some ingredients for dinner, but Minjae invited us to eat at the club instead—once again as his guests. The children agreed, saying they loved the French fries there. They’d attended birthday parties of classmates who belonged to Leeward. Meanwhile, Channing was peering at the gate where Kent remained. She refused to walk toward the club and wouldn’t tell Minjae or the children why.
Harabeoji seemed confused, but then he followed Channing’s gaze and told us to wait. “It’s not a problem if we don’t make it one,” he said. “I’d be happy to talk to whoever that is and meet you all inside. Nothing to worry about.”
Channing nodded, and he nodded back a reassurance. Minjae suddenly pointed to something in the distance and exclaimed that there was a dolphin out there, which took the children’s attention.
“Where? Where?” they cried. He pointed again as Channing put her arms around Minjae’s chest and leaned against him. He smoothed the top of her head.
While they were occupied, I watched Harabeoji approach the man at the gate. The other person bowed, and Harabeoji acknowledged him. Then my grandfather began walking away from the entrance and the man hurried to keep up.
Harabeoji’s actions gave us enough time to slip back into the club. We changed out of our swimsuits into our clothes in the locker room by the pool, and then Minjae took us through the lobby toward a restaurant with big chandeliers. We were led to a table and seated near an expansiveterrace. Three groups of Koreans took stock of us. One batch looked familiar, so I smiled at them, and they looked down and then bent their heads to talk with their dinner companions, who looked over at us as if we were being discussed. Another table had young children with them, younger than Austin, and the last cluster had a Korean woman who could have been our age and a gray-haired Korean woman who seemed related to her.
After we were settled and the waiter took our order for appetizers, Harabeoji found us. That was when the older Korean woman at the other table walked over. Harabeoji rose immediately to his feet in response, and they bowed to each other. She showed my grandfather great affection, complimenting him on his physical health, and commented on how she was glad to see him after these many years and stayed standing near him, forcing him to listen to her drone on. I kept looking for signs of Kent, but he was nowhere to be seen. Harabeoji must have convinced him to leave.
My grandfather asked the woman questions about her family, and she replied, but she was studying Channing and Minjae as she answered. I was sitting near Channing, so I could see the woman’s stare and was acutely aware of how close my cousin was sitting to Minjae at this large round table. Everyone was spaced generously apart except for them. Their elbows were touching by the silverware.
The woman made no attempt to hide her curiosity. “You’re Albert and Maggie Shin’s daughter, I remember you. And I know you, too, Minjae; I just talked to your mother in Korea on the phone last week. You two are very good friends, are you?”
Minjae sat back and covered his mouth with his hands. He was actually blushing at her words. I was apparently of no interest to her because the woman’s eyes never moved from the two of them. “Hello, Mrs. Ku,” Minjae said.
The name clicked with a memory. So, this was the owner of the bakery my grandfather had pointed out when we’d driven in.
“I heard Kent Cho is engaged, good news,” Mrs. Ku replied. She wasn’t ready to leave us and continued to peer intently at Channing.
Harabeoji said, “Indeed, that’s excellent news. Congratulations to whoever it is. Tell us who is marrying Kent Cho?”
Mrs. Ku pointed at Channing.
Just then Edison hit a glass with his arm, splashing water and ice cubes across the table. My first response was to push back my chair and stand. Austin jumped back as if the content of that glass was acid. Immediately, Harabeoji reached over and dabbed at the pooled liquid with his napkin, and Minjae joined in. Together, they mopped up the spill and stood the now empty glass back upright.
A waiter came over, and since the water had swamped only around and under the plates it was really fine. Nothing but Edison’s glass of water and a few napkins had to be replaced. During this ruckus, Mrs. Ku returned to her table, but not before looking over her shoulder once more. We were all seated again, and Channing made a comment about how she was usually the one to knock over drinks. Harabeoji said he remembered that was a constant when she was a child. Edison and Austin laughed along with Channing, and I noticed that Minjae’s hand was over Channing’s on the table. She didn’t move hers away.
Chapter 15
People in love were often illogical. After I drove Harabeoji to the Yuns’ house and returned to Sandpiper Lane, Minjae’s convertible sat by the curb. It didn’t make sense to me that he’d left his car at the Ahns’ place to ride with Channing to the beach club only to then drive all the way back, and then return to the club in his car. It was nearing nine o’clock. To me the day was over, but Channing and Minjae didn’t agree. She was in the kitchen disinfecting the sink while Minjae was in the living room. The kitchen was already spotless, but she was determined to make it even cleaner. She’d never changed this much in previous relationships. Housework of any sort used to be unnecessary in her mind. I wasn’t sure I liked this version of my cousin. Where had the real Channing gone? She had a wide smile on her face. “Wasn’t today a great day?”
“Best blue sky?” I joked.
“You’re not funny,” she said, but she sat down beside me. “The kids went right to sleep.”
“And how beautiful is the sky today? How blue? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so blue,” I said as I looked around. “Where’s your Mongryong?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Stop, he didn’t say it like that. He’s in the living room calling his mom like he does every other day. Such a good son,” she said.
“Why doesn’t he do that back in his place at the club?”
“Why not here?” she said to me with a shrug and a smile she was trying to suppress.
I walked over to her and made her face me. Her eyes were bright, rimmed in pink that looked like a blush rather than an illness. “Okay, what’s happened? How’s Minjae different from the others?”
“I’m just happy,” she said.
“But you’ve been happy about others. The one in Boston, the one in Fall River, the one in Springfield, and Providence—they were all potentially your Mongryong.”
“I get why you’d say that, so I’m not going to try to convince you. It feels new. People call it sparks, but I never understood until now.”
