her mother, Auntie Gloria, hadn’t threatened to kill her youngest daughter. Only after Cynthia stated that she would be late to her own wedding did her mother agree to delay the tea ceremony. Cynthia did rack up the most tardies despite living ten minutes away from her high school.
I relaxed in the safety of the hotel’s rooftop garden. The dinner reception in the grand ballroom wouldn’t begin for another hour. Uncle Michael and Jack kept me company. Jack, introduced to the family earlier this morning, had been swarmed with affection. The escape twenty floors up was for our mutual benefit.
“Brace yourself,” Uncle Michael warned, breaking the silence. “Your mother mentioned to me that she has a prospect in mind.”
I winced. My fingers pinched a piece of the embroidered lavender skirt of my cocktail dress. Feeling the fine needlework’s bumps and ridges soothed my elevated nerves. “He’s probably already here. Ma always comes prepared.”
Jack added, “Weddings are always the breeding ground for setups.”
“Cynthia betrayed me. She told me she was going to be the lone old maid to take the pressure off the rest of us. Then she met Edwin. Now Johnny . . . Everyone agreed he would never get married.”
The cousins and I had formed a union where we used our collective bargaining power to negotiate with our parents. Traditions, and which to follow, became the common talking points, while the most intense debates revolved around marriage. As heated as these discussions became, I was grateful that our parents were more reasonable than my grandparents had been with them. Later generations benefited from the earlier generations in America who fomented the seed of rebellion and the integration of Western values.
“Johnny’s prophecy should have stayed hidden,” I groused.
Uncle Michael raised a brow. “Really?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen Johnny this happy and I can’t help but share in his joy. I just wish it didn’t involve unpleasant consequences on my end. It’s stirring up the aunties into a froth. My mother doesn’t need more ammunition. I want to date, but I don’t want it to be the precursor to an arranged marriage.”
“I thought you’re fourth-generation Chinese,” Jack said.
“I am, but the whole tiger parenting instinct is hard coded in their genes.” I rubbed my temples. “I know they mean well. A relationship is just not possible until I get this prediction thing under control.”
“I have to admit, it’s an interesting ability, or burden in your case,” Jack said.
“It’s got its downsides.”
He stood beside my uncle in a complementary navy suit. Jack reminded me of a rugged Pierce Brosnan. Uncle Michael wore charcoal gray with a gold tie. They could be on the cover of any men’s fashion magazine. Jack brought his camera equipment and worked the wedding, his gift to the couple. This was his rare break, and I suffered a twinge of guilt for having complained so much.
Before I could apologize, Jack glanced over his shoulder to see the elevators opening. “The women are coming.”
He and Uncle Michael moved in unison to head off the pack of aunties, herding them back into the elevator and disappearing behind closing doors. It was a reenactment worthy of the battle of Thermopylae. I was touched by their sacrifice.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and attempted to let the tension roll off my shoulders. Prophecies accompanied an assortment of drinks I imbibed or that I saw in the cups of others. I avoided tea because it was the most powerful stimulant. Drinking it resulted in vivid visions that even the aunties cautioned against.
I glanced down at my watch. Ten more minutes until I had to make my appearance downstairs. The sky above was a riotous blaze of pinks, purples, blues, and oranges with nary a cloud to mar it. It was worthy of Monet’s Parliament at Sunset. The cool breeze teased the tips of my wavy, dark hair. It was such a beautiful evening to waste on worries I had no control over.
The elevator bell dinged.
I turned around, hoping to see the return of my favorite uncle and his boyfriend.
Aunt Evelyn stepped out from the silver doors, and her dark eyes focused on me. Dressed in a long pastel blue sheath dress and beaded jacket, her long hair swept up to showcase a pair of diamond pendant earrings, she approached me with her high heels clicking against the marble floor.
“Hello, Vanessa.” Aunt Evelyn greeted me with a genuine smile.
Uncle Michael must have sent her to see me. “Hi,” I said. “How