Noah made a face. “I found that out for myself doing a project on accessible design, thanks.”
Nadine raised her eyebrows. “Preeti had nothing to do with it?”
“Preeti suggested the topic,” he admitted.
She went into the kitchen. Her grandmother gave Nadine a critical look. “Good thing you came for lunch,” she said. “Too skinny. You need to eat more.”
“I eat, Pohpoh.” She leaned over to give her grandmother a hug, which was tolerated for less than a second. Pohpoh showed her love in only two ways: food provision and criticism. She accepted affection fleetingly and rarely. Her grandmother handed her a bowl of chopped green onions, and Nadine knew without asking that she was to add them to every dish.
She began to sprinkle as she watched her mother and grandmother argue about whether to mince more garlic. Having lost the garlic fight, her mother took away Nadine’s green onion bowl and peered into her face. “Your cheeks are gaunt. It’s that job, isn’t it?” she said. “It’s too much for you.”
Her dad came in to join the party. “Listen to your mom, pumpkin. You know she’s always right.”
This had been the soundtrack of Nadine’s life, along with its B-side,You should ask your father for advice. “I’m fine.”
Her mother’s face creased with concern. “There was that awful man threatening you at your own home. We were terrified. You should move back with us. Your apartment isn’t safe.”
Nadine sighed, regretting that she’d told her parents about the threats. She couldn’t let them suspect this conversation upset her because it would devolve into having to reassure them. It also meant afrank discussion of the incident or how she felt about it was completely off the table, because they would take any of her concerns as more proof she wasn’t okay and should move home. She grabbed her chair. “It was dealt with, and nothing happened. Are we ready to eat?”
They crowded around the table, passing the food and casually dipping into dishes with forks and chopsticks. A platter of French fries shared space with the steamed fish, noodles, and fried rice because Pohpoh required meals to have the selection of a buffet to be acceptable. She’d also made what they called Chinese lasagna, layers of rice, greens, and hoisin chicken thighs cooked to tender perfection, topped with Nadine’s spring onions.
“At least you’ve changed that job of yours,” said her father as he served himself some noodles. “Obituaries are too morbid for a young woman.”
“Like a grim reaper,” added her mother. “I read one about some poor man’s business failures. What happened to not speaking ill of the dead?”
“Jerry Hill’s mismanagement wiped out the savings of thousands of vulnerable people and made him a multimillionaire.” Nadine traded her chopsticks for a spoon. “It’s as much a part of his legacy as anything else he did. Obits aren’t eulogies.”
“I can’t believe his family allowed it,” said her mother. “You need to leave people with their dignity.”
“We don’t ask permission.” Nadine spoke into her plate and tried to push aside her temper and her parents’ disappointment. “Those kinds of obituaries are in the public interest, and they should be fair and truthful.”
“It’s mean-spirited,” said her father stubbornly. “Not the kind of thing I thought you would want to be involved in. We raised you better. It’s not surprising things like that man would happen.”
She put down her spoon as Noah’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”
“Nadine, be serious,” said her mother, exchanging a look with herfather. “I don’t want to sayI told you so, but naturally people are going to respond negatively to your stories. Some of them aren’t very nice.”
“My job is to report accurately and keep people accountable,” said Nadine through gritted teeth. “Not to be nice.”
“All I’m saying is not everyone is going to agree. You should be like Rachel from golf’s daughter. She’s a physiotherapist,” said her mother hopefully. “That’s a good steady job.”
“You need to come home before something serious happens,” added her father. “Waste of money to rent these days anyway.”
“Complete waste,” her mother echoed. “At least you would have company here.”
Nadine thought about those late-night shadows. It might be nice to have people around. Maybe shewouldfeel safer at home.
Her grandmother dropped a serving spoon and winced, rubbing a hand thick with arthritis.
That was enough for her mother to turn her attention from Nadine. “Mom, have you thought more about when you’re going to move into a retirement home?” she asked.
Pohpoh picked up the spoon again. “Yes. Never.”
Noah covered a laugh as their father glared at him. “Noah.”
“Sorry, Dad, but if Pohpoh likes to live on her own, she should. Like Nad.”
“Your grandmother needs someone to keep an eye on her,” said their mother. “What if something happens?”
