“We were kids, all the jokes were silly,” she replied.
I let out a sigh slowly so Channing and Paul wouldn’t notice. It was a relief to hear that Paul hadn’t turned on Channing the way Ames had. Still, Ames’s parents’ betrayal felt insidious.
“Anything from Minjae, on Signal or anywhere?” Channing asked Paul.
He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m sorry. I’ve been asking friends of his in Korea and here.”
Her eyes closed, and her chest rose and fell as if she was trying to calm herself.
“Has he forgotten us?” I said to Paul.
“Not like him to do that. I’m sure he’s working on a way to get back here. He wouldn’t give up,” Paul said.
Channing was fighting back tears and wouldn’t meet my eyes. She stared out the window. I had to think of another way.
“So, Channing,” I said. “Ames told me the other day that she was on deadline to write about the new development, but to give context to this new one, she was researching the old, failed project the year your mom died. It sounds like it was the same deal that your dad was accused of stealing money from. That money is the reason the development didn’t go through. So why can’t Ames find anyone to talk with her now? It sounds like her parents believed your dad was guilty. Did he go on trial? What happened to him?” I asked.
She didn’t respond. Paul said, “Korean families missing five hundred thousand dollars with no proof they’d given it to Albert Shin? The police had no leads. No one cared.”
“So it was just dropped?” I asked.
Channing lowered the car window again and stuck her arm out, and then pulled it back in and closed the window. She said to me, “You’re right. It’s strange. I remember police at the house, but no, my dad was never charged.” She went on to describe her father’s actions that day her mother died.
“Makes no sense,” Paul agreed.
As we sat with this information, my view of East End was changing. Why had I ever wanted to live here where someone like Kent could destroy Channing’s life, where my uncle had been falsely accused for years? Ifocused on this last question because I felt helpless about Channing’s situation.
My parents had said that Channing’s father was clever with investments. If he had stolen the money, what did he do with it? Why weren’t he and Channing living in luxury? That amount of money even conservatively invested would have yielded a hefty profit. The money must have been stolen just like he claimed. If he was as conniving as the people in East End believed, sure, he might have made a mistake and his investment in some clandestine way failed, but he’d never struck me as a gambler. He’d been consistent since the day his wife died. He’d been a grieving, angry man. And now I knew why he was in such despair.
“If Ames could find out what really happened back in 2005, then at least your dad’s name would be cleared,” I said.
“Dahee, that’s in the past. I have to think about what to do right now,” Channing said. I knew she was trying not to cry by how she blinked rapidly and turned again toward the window.
“I think Ames could help us,” I said.
“How many times do I have to say I don’t trust her?” Channing said.
“Ames didn’t show it today, but in her own way she was trying to help. I know she felt bad about what happened when you were kids. I remember she argued with her mom. You could be friends again,” Paul said.
“That’s only in K-dramas and movies,” Channing said.
I was surprised by her words. It was as if she didn’t believe in stories like the “Tale of Chunhyang” anymore.
Chapter 37
I believed Channing. If she said we couldn’t trust Ames, then I knew to be cautious. We had the more pressing problem of Kent’s charges against her. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Kent’s black canvas bag that Mai had given us. Why did it look familiar? While Channing searched on the computer for legal ways to fight Kent, I lay down on the couch in Paul’s apartment and found myself turning over memories in my mind.
Years ago, my parents and I drove to East End on a Tuesday after summer vacation had started because my parents’ business was slower on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. My aunt’s health had been declining for months by then, and no one knew how long she was going to last. The expectation was she had only a few weeks left. We’d been told by Channing’s father that if death was near, he’d tell us right away. So, this was just a trip like others during that time, for my parents to offer emotional support. My father worried about his brother, saying a spouse’s illness was hard on anyone but for Albert it would be doubly so. He said Channing’s father was prone to depression.
“But he’s a genius,” Appa continued. “He’s made a fortune.”
“Maggie is really the one who was key to the deal. She’s good at bringing people together,” my mother said.
“No, you’re right. The two of them. Always together. How will he manage without her?” my father replied.
My mother glanced at me in the back seat of the car before returning to the conversation with my father. “He’ll be fine. And who knows? The treatments might turn things around for Maggie. She sounded good on the phone today.”
Once we arrived, we were ushered into the house by my uncle. He had wavy black hair, same as Harabeoji. Channing was in her room playing video games as usual, but it was past dinnertime, so we went to bed. I slept with my parents in a guest room.
