We both leaned in for a quick embrace and kiss on the cheek. She smelled of freshly cut peonies and vanilla. In her early fifties, she was still one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. She epitomized elegance and class and never allowed her abilities to see the future to hinder her successes or her life. I envied her.
“Busy. We’re opening a new tea shop in Paris soon,” she replied. “Well done in predicting Johnny’s engagement.”
I swallowed what I wanted to say: that I had no control over any of it and giving me credit was akin to thanking an automatic door for opening and closing. “He’s happy, and Andria is as well. I’m glad it wasn’t someone dying or getting into an accident.”
Aunt Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t always jump to the worst conclusions. Only thinking of the negative causes more of it to happen.”
“Just wishing for good predictions hasn’t worked.” The effort in maintaining the smile I’d plastered on my lips increased.
“You can’t talk about something you know nothing about, Vanessa. You haven’t bothered to listen to anything I’ve tried to teach you over all these years. The art of prophecy has specific rules.”
“The only rule I’m interested in is one that rids it from my life.”
She looked at me with kindness. She always did.
Once my gift manifested, I was Aunt Evelyn’s project. I spent weekends at her Victorian in San Francisco. We had the loveliest of afternoon teas in her sunroom, nibbling on matcha mochi, colorful macarons, and egg tarts from a Portuguese bakery nearby. We drank glasses of iced lavender tea lemonade and talked about family history. The idyllic joy vanished when she told me I couldn’t avoid this power. The arguments started and never abated, an ouroboros of persistent tension.
“I wish you were more receptive. These rules are meant to be followed, and you might be more adept at handling your gift had you taken my advice. If anything, you’re more closed-minded now than when you were younger.”
“Aunt Evelyn, please don’t start.”
She took a deep breath and offered her hand. “Let’s go downstairs. I hear Edwin’s parents flew the chef and his crew in from Kowloon. His restaurant is famous and was featured in a foodie documentary. The dinner should be spectacular.”
I accepted her olive branch and we headed to the elevator, hand in hand.
* * *
* * *
The wedding banquet was traditionally Chinese with ten courses of the finest ingredients served alongside gossip and business proposals. After all, this was foremost a merging of the Yus and Ngos.
Aunt Evelyn and I walked into a sea of circular tables. Overhead, crystal chandeliers sparkled against the painted sky ceiling while cream-colored drapery flanked the French doors leading out into the gardens. Bouquets of powder-blue hydrangeas, white roses, and blush-pink peonies adorned every table alongside ornate gold lantern centerpieces. The couple’s love of yachts and cruises inspired the garlands of miniature international maritime signal flags. The place settings and name cards continued the nautical theme with a ship and anchor design.
Before I could leave Aunt Evelyn’s side, my mother stopped in front of me. I recognized her companion: tall, Chinese, short hair, with a propensity to please. The scent of instant coffee and minty mouthwash clung to his suit. He worked at the family’s firm. William Chang. She planned on setting me up with the new hire in the tax department. I had administered his job interview. Ma’s arrangements had never worked out, but it didn’t stop her from trying.
Aunt Evelyn squeezed my hand. “Ah, Linda! I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Vanessa to sit with me. It’s been a long time since I last saw her.”
“Evelyn, I had plans to . . . ,” Ma stuttered. “William here is . . .”
My aunt met my eyes. “Right, Vanessa?”
“Yes, Ma. She has questions about how international tax laws will impact the European expansion,” I replied.
“But, but . . .”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of time later,” Aunt Evelyn said as she patted my mother’s arm, guiding me away.
After we were out of earshot, she leaned close. “You can leave anytime. I don’t want you to sit with me unless it’s your choice. My intention was only to steer you away from your mother’s ambush.”
We might have our differences, but I couldn’t deny my aunt’s good heart. She could have left me standing there in Ma’s dating trap and a long evening of awkwardness with William.