She glances at the bottle. “You wrote that it calls your heart’s desire? What does that mean?”
“It’s what you want most in the world.”
Mom taps the register with her finger. “You thought this after talking to Ms. Kang?”
I nod. “She came by the shop with her daughter. Then I looked up the three clients you gave the test samples to. I thought about Kelsey’s gift bags, and all twenty of the recipients had some kind of new beginning or change in their lives afterward.”
I pull back the register and point to Aiai’s chapter, telling Mommy thoughts about the maid and love, and what I learned from the people she gave the testers to. She listens without interrupting until I finish.
“I had my moli all along,” I say. “It wasn’t what we expected, but it was there.”
“I don’t understand why other fifth daughters didn’t have this problem.”
“Maybe many of their clients did want true love. Or the old client families believed the fifth daughters could call love, so that would be what they went for. Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s only me who’s different. Or we have more options to dream about these days. I don’t know. What I do know is that this ismymoli. This is the purpose of my power.”
I wait for her to question me, but she looks fascinated. I nod at the bottle in her hand.
“I know it’s not what you expected. I’m not going to be the daughter you wanted, Mom, the one who works by your side day after day, or who rebuilds the family the way you wanted.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true.”
“Mom, come on.” After the flight and the exhaustion of creating Aiai, plus, honestly, a shitload of emotional highs and lows, I don’t have the patience for this. “You’ve made it clear my role is here at home, doing my part with Yixiang.”
“No, and I’m sorry I made you think that. You don’t need your moli to be a Hua. The reason I wanted you home was because I love you. I wanted to help you when you were hurting, and I didn’t know how to do it from the other side of the country. How could I hold you when you were thousands of kilometers away? How could I calm you when you refused to pick up my calls? Support you when you closed off your life from me?”
She looks steadily at me, the years and griefs she’s endured patterned on her face.
“I’m sorry I made you believe you needed your moli to be loved,” she says. “You were always loved, Lucy.”
The words hang in the air, and I pull out a chair and sit down heavily, not sure what to do. Mom said I didn’t know what she wanted, and it seems she was right. I let my assumptions run my life. No, add anotheriinto one of those words. I let my assumptionsruinmy life.
I say, “I’m sorry I left instead of asking for help.”
Mom swallows hard and looks at the bottle. “This is a moli scent?”
“A diluted one. It’s only a breath of what it could be, but it’s enough to have an effect. This Aiai can help you identify what you want rather than simply delivering your heart’s desire. Like a direction sign, instead of teleporting you right there.” I pass her the blurb I scrawled in a notepad on the plane.
Aiai, named after an adviser to the Tang Empress Wu. For those who wish to uncover the layers of their heart’s desire.
“I see.”
“No one will believe it because they’ll think it’s marketing. It’s what I can give you so you can finally have whatyouwant most.”
Higher go the eyebrows. “What do I want most?”
“For the store to survive. Maybe not here, but in a new place. For the Hua name to mean something again. The money and the power. That’s why you sold those three moli samples. You can have this. I’m giving it to you.”
She looks at me, wry amusement twisting her features. “That’s not why I sold the decants. The store is done, Lucy. I can’t afford the rent. This is the last month of the lease.”
“What?” I stare at her. “Then what happened to the money? Is it paying the mortgage?”
Her eyes drift to the corner of the room, and for the first time I see luggage piled up. “Mom? What’s going on?”
“I meant to tell you in a different way, but your father and I are getting a divorce.” She rushes over the word a bit.
I wait for the shock to subside and the hurt to take its place, but none does. “What happened?”
She turns to pour more tea. “I always hated being in this kitchen,” she muses. “I hated cooking. Cleaning. All the work I was expected to do and did out of love. Then you and Eric left, and I was only doing it because I was supposed to.”
