No comment. London’s mother had never given up hope that she’d one day find the grit to overcome her injury and resume her career. “Grit.” Her word. In the Li family’s mixed household, it was her mother who had exhibited the Asian insistence on excellence. If there was a Swedish term for “tiger mom,” it could be applied to her mother.
“What did you bring?” said London. “I’m hungry.” She shot a glance at the trash can, hoping her mother wouldn’t spy the Snickers wrapper. Too late, said the damning blue eyes.
“I made meatball soup and gravlax sandwiches…if you still have an appetite.”
“Sounds good.”
“And I’m not giving any salmon to that damned cat. He’s fat enough already.”
London noted that her mother’s hand shook only a little as she set the sandwiches on their plates and poured herself a glass of Chardonnay.
“Are you feeling well?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You look wonderful.”
“I can still outrun you, young lady. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t, Mama.”
“Two miles this morning.”
“Wow. Good for you.”
Astrid Li carried the plates into the dining area and set them on the table. “Let’s eat.” She shot London a sly smile. “I hear salmon goes wonderfully with candy bars.”
Lunch lasted an hour. Afterward, Astrid Li packed the empty containers into her bag. There was no disguising the shaking this time.
“Mama!”
“I’m just fine. The tremors come and go. It’s to be expected.”
“Isn’t there medicine?”
“Don’t you think I’m taking it?” retorted Astrid Li. “Now, shall we talk about something else?”
“Have you fallen lately?”
“Do I look as if I’ve fallen? I’m fine, and I’ll stay fine as long as I tell myself to. It’s a question of discipline. Like the piano.”
London took her mother by the arms. “Please, Mama, you have to let it go.”
But Astrid Li had never asked for quarter, or given it. “If you wanted it, if you really wanted it, you could be there now. Carnegie Hall. The Salle Pleyel.”
London nodded, knowing better than to argue. It had always been this way. Her mother would beat her multiple sclerosis just as London should have conquered the injuries to her hand. The Book According to Astrid Sörensson Li.
London handed her mother her bag, kissing her on the cheek. “You know I’m here if you need me. Just call.”
“We see each other once a week,” said Astrid Li. “I think that is sufficient. You’re a busy woman. So am I.”
“Yes, Mama.” London didn’t bother with a smile as she walked her mother to the door.
“I’ll be looking for your name in the paper,” said Astrid Li in parting.
After her mother left, London sat back down at her desk and got back to work. She started on the second path, turning to the pages listing members of the management teams and boards of directors. Quickly, two hits. Brunei and Indonesia, each country’s minister of finance serving on the board.
She called back Benson Chow with the news.
“By the way,” he said. “I was thinking, instead of dinner, how about a weekend at Amanpuri?”
Black-bottom pools. Chaise longues. The ultimate in luxury and serenity atop a bluff overlooking the Andaman Sea. And sex.
“Don’t push your luck,” said London, hanging up.
She dropped the phone on her desk. She’d done all she could for the moment. It was a question of waiting.
On the balcony, she gazed out over East Coast Park and, craning her neck, caught sight of the ocean.
“R,” she said aloud, “where are you?”
Chapter 15
London
Where are you off to, then?” asked Harry Mason.
Four thirty p.m. The sounds of drills and rotors echoed off the shop’s walls. A motor revved wildly, then died all at once. Sunlight streamed through the transom above Simon’s office door. He tossed his travel bag onto the couch.
“Thailand. An old friend is in trouble.”
“I’ll look after the shop.”
“I know you will. That’s not why I called you in. Get the door, will you?”
Harry Mason closed the door. “You all right? You’ve been a royal pain these last few days.”
“It’s Lucy.”
“Figured as much, me and the lads. Any change?”
“Still waiting for word.” Simon shook his head. “This trip I’m taking…I don’t want to go. Not with Lucy the way she is.”
“You don’t need to explain to me.”
“Sure I do. I’m responsible for Lucy. She got hurt working for me.”
“She loved it,” said Harry, brightening. “Always talking about the little problems she helps you with. You didn’t force her.”
Simon patted Harry on the shoulder, a thank you. “Still…Well, like I said. I’m responsible. While I’m gone, I’d appreciate it if you could look after her.