Laura Resnick - The Misfortune Cookie

Feeling gauche, I said, “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Maybe a day or two after th—”

“No, no, tomorrow’s cool,” he said absently. “I’m just wondering how long this funeral thing will take.”

John was right; Ted would apparently miss Benny’s money more than he’d miss Benny.

“Mom?” Ted called. “Hey, Mom!”

“Ted, this is a wake,” his mother admonished as she approached us. “We should keep our voices down.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. Aunt Grace and that hooker from Benny’s office just went at it right in front of the coffin like—”

“Ted, please,” said his mother with a long-suffering expression. “Your aunt or your cousins will hear you.”

“By the way, Esther,” said Ted, “the way you jumped in there, walloped Aunt Grace, and threw that girl on the coffin—it was totally awesome!”

“I didn’t wallop your aunt, I—”

“How do you do? I am Lily Yee, Ted’s mother,” the older woman interrupted with a pleasant smile. She spoke English precisely, with a delicate Chinese accent. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

I introduced myself, then said, “And this is my friend, Dr. Maximillian Zadok.”

“How do you do, sir?”

Rather than respond, Max stared mutely at Lily Yee, looking dumbstruck. His blue eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly, and he seemed unaware that I had just introduced the two of them.

“Max?” I prodded.

“Hmm? Oh!” He blinked. “Pardon me, madam. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. I, uh . . . I . . .”

He went back to staring at her. And I looked at both of them, wondering at Max’s reaction.

Yes, Lily was a beautiful woman, elegantly dressed, with a gracious manner. I assumed she was at least in her mid-forties, since her daughter looked mid-twenties; and Lily might well be in her fifties, for all I knew. Good bone structure, good skin, and good grooming made her age hard to guess. She wore her black hair in a heavy bun at the nape of her neck, which complimented her traditional dress. Her style was very different from that of her modern American son and daughter, and it suited her well.

Yet there was nothing about her to explain Max’s thunderstruck reaction to meeting her. His great age certainly didn’t prevent him from noticing—and sometimes reacting to—pretty women. But I’d never before seen a beautiful face rob him of the power of speech.

So I looked at both of them, seeking some clue to Max’s odd behavior; but I just couldn’t see anything. Lily seemed a little perplexed by his manner, but not disconcerted, and her smiling courtesy remained unruffled.

“So, Mom,” said Ted, oblivious to the way Max was staring at his mother, “what time will we be done with the funeral tomorrow? I want to meet Esther afterward.”

“Oh, really? How nice!” Lily seemed to think he meant we were going on a date. Given her daughter’s reaction to my being an actress, I decided not to correct her. “You can certainly meet in the evening. Or late afternoon.”

Max stirred himself enough to say, “Er, what is . . .”

We all looked at him.

Apparently unaware that he was interrupting, or even that there was anyone else in the room other than Lily Yee, he said to her, “May one ask your given name?”

“You wish to know my Chinese name?” She smiled. “Of course. It is Xiaoling.”

“Xiaoling,” Max repeated. “How lovely.”

“My late husband called me that,” she added, gracefully imparting the information that she was a widow. “But to almost everyone else, ever since I came to America when I was young, I am Lily.”

“Also a lovely name,” Max said. “Very fitting.”

She smiled again.

“So listen, Esther,” said Ted. “Like, here’s the thing . . .”

“Yes?” I turned to give him my full attention while Max and Lily continued chatting quietly.

“I think it’s cool that you want to read for my film, but you’re a different type than Mary.”

“I’m versatile,” I assured him.

“You heard her résumé,” John said to Ted. “That’s some range. She’d be great in Mary’s part.”

I smiled at him.

“Yeah, but Mary is, you know, a Betty,” said Ted, with a doubtful glance at me. “The actress in this role needs to be really hot.”

“Esther’s really hot.” John added to me, “No disrespect intended.”

“No problem.” I appreciated John’s support, but I hadn’t taken offense at Ted’s comment. This was business, not personal, and actors need to know what people see when they look at us. My looks are all right, but I’m no Hollywood bombshell. On the other hand, I also knew that what Ted was seeing right now was an incomplete picture. I didn’t have any of my headshots with me, and I certainly wasn’t dressed for an audition—let alone to try out for the role of a “really hot” love interest.

So I said to Ted, “Look, I came here through sleet and snow, at the end of a long day of pounding the pavement, and then I wound up in the middle of your aunt’s violent brawl with a hooker and a corpse. So you’re not seeing me at my most attractive. Put me in good makeup and hair, with the right clothes, and I can play a Betty.” And when I did my reading for him, I would convince him by showing up dressed for the role.

“I think you look nice,” said John.

“Well, I suppose I really do need to recast that part,” Ted said unhappily. “Mary says there’s no way she can come back to work. Her broken leg was just one thing too many.”

“I’m not surprised,” John said. “She’s a trooper, but she’s really had a rough time lately.”

“So I guess I should hear you read, Esther,” Ted concluded with unflattering reluctance.

I smiled warmly at him. I wanted work more than I wanted flattery, after all. “Great!”

We agreed to meet late the following afternoon on the set where Ted hoped to resume filming soon. It was a loft on Hester Street, which served as the main character’s apartment in the film.

Then John, who was scanning the crowd, drew in a quick breath. “Look who just arrived.”

Ted followed his gaze, then said with pleasure, “Oh, good, he’s here.”

Other people in the hall were also murmuring about the new arrival, as were members of the Yee family.

Lily paused in her conversation with Max to look in the same direction as everyone else. I noticed that her warm, animated expression suddenly grew cold.

Ted whispered to John, just loud enough for me to hear, “I really need to talk to him.”

Quite curious by now, I watched as the crowd parted to let a short, homely, plump older man in a cheap suit approach the coffin to pay his respects. He bowed three times before Benny with his palms pressed together, then paused at the altar before coming over to greet Grace Yee and her family.

My business with Ted was concluded, so I was reluctant to continue intruding on the family. I tugged on John’s arm to pull him some distance away from them. Max remained with Lily, whose gaze was fixed coolly on the new arrival. It was clear from everyone’s behavior that he was an important man. Grace Yee seemed particularly pleased to see him. Despite her sore leg, she rose from her chair to speak with him.

“Who is he?” I murmured.

“Uncle Six.” John’s answer made me think of Fleming’s Double-Oh-Seven or Star Trek’s Seven-of-Nine.

“Who?”

He smiled. “It’s what people call him. Real name, Joe Ning. He’s head of the Five Brothers tong.”

“Ah.”

“‘Uncle’ is respectful, a way of saying he’s everyone’s benefactor. And six is a good number. It represents wealth, prosperity, and success in business.”

“He doesn’t look wealthy and successful,” I noted.