“Helen’s not an employee,” said Tommy. “She’s a good friend.”
I forced a smile, quite aware that Priscilla-Mae was looking me up and down.
I did the same, taking in her spotless white dress, her pearl bracelet, her teeth the color of sugar. Over one shoulder was a turtle skin handbag, and over the other was a mink stole, so soft it still looked alive.
“Helen,” Priscilla-Mae tested out my name. “How do you know Tommy?”
“He ran into me on his bicycle,” I replied, repeating the story I’d once told his grandfather. “Down the steps on Sandy Mound Road.”
“Sandy Mound Road.” She touched her chin. “Peaksoy’s first factory is down the street.”
All these years I’d known him, he’d never mentioned his family having a factory nearby.
“Are you looking for more work?” she went on. “I’m sure we can convince Director Fung to hire you again soon. Peaksoy is about to launch overseas in Singapore, then in Australia. The news isn’t public yet, so don’t spread it around: Tommy’s been chosen to take over.”
I turned to Tommy a little stunned. “Congratulations.”
He barely nodded. This was what he had secretly wanted—why did he look so glum?
“Have you seen the new bottles?” said Priscilla-Mae. “You’re on the label now! You’re practically a Hong Kong legend at this point. Did you know, there was a billboard that I would see coming down from my parents’ penthouse on the Peak, and I would wonder, who was that country girl in the yellow polka dot dress. The original model they hired was too fancy—she didn’t look right advertising soymilk. But you—you were perfect.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw. The noise of her chattering made my left ear hurt, and I couldn’t force a smile without pain.
“We should get going, Tommy,” Priscilla-Mae went on. “Traffic is horrible at this hour, and we can’t be late to dinner with our parents. Goodbye,Ellen.It was a thrill meeting you.” She blew me a kiss. “Soy is joy.”
“Soy is joy,” I echoed woodenly. I made a bow with my head that I regretted, then I turned.
“Wait.” Tommy reached into his pocket, fishing out a small orange fruit. “From your tree.”
Surprise dissolved my anger as I took the loquat. It rolled onto my palm like a little sun. What was he doing carrying a loquat around in his pocket, I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t in front of Priscilla-Mae, whose smile was shrinking by the second, showing less and less of those sugar-colored teeth. Instead, I asked, “It bore fruit?”
“Last week.” His voice lifted, turning hopeful. “You should visit it.”
I closed my fist over the loquat.
“Tommy,” Priscilla-Mae called impatiently.
He sent me an apologetic look, but he didn’t argue.
When the car was gone, I examined the loquat Tommy had given me. It was a ripe shade of orange, its skin pale and velvety. How incredible that from one lone seed, I had grown this perfect fruit.
I tucked it into my pocket, satisfied that I’d done at least one good thing in this life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I waited a week before I visited the loquat tree.
It wasn’t so little anymore. It was now at least three meters tall, surrounded by a carpet of grass and wildflowers. This part of Hong Kong, which once I had known so well, was changed. The road had been paved and a bus stop had been added. There were even a few benches in the park.
Much of Hong Kong had flooded during the typhoon, and even a year later parts of the city were still recovering. I hadn’t dared hope my tree might survive—yet here it was, more robust than ever. Bits of red string hung from the branches, each tightly knotted. I counted at least twenty.
“There’s twenty-two,” said a voice from behind me. “One for each time I came here looking for you.”
I turned slowly, facing Tommy. “What are you doing here?”
A new string dangled from his finger. “Little hwamei, you don’t smile as much as you used to.”
“I’ve grown up.”
