Back to the Good Fortune Diner (15 page)

Intense heat rippled through him, stretching up and outward from his heaving chest. He wanted to go after his father and beat an apology out of him, but Tiffany’s glare stayed him. She’d let his father’s words bounce off her like glancing blows, and yet remained resolved, jaw set as if ready to take another verbal beating.

Dear God, if he let this go, what would Tiffany think of him?

“Forget about it, Chris.” She gave him such a tired, wintry look, he froze. Old pain burned in her eyes. A horrible sense of déjà vu flowed through him as he realized the frowning teen she’d been stared back, her remote silence and aloofness suddenly magnified by his father’s words.

It wasn’t only what his dad had said that had put that look there.

He suddenly remembered something Daphne had said when he’d told her Tiffany would be tutoring him. He’d wanted to be certain Daph didn’t get any crazy ideas, and strangely enough, she hadn’t.

“I’m glad she’s your tutor. Those people are smart. I never see them do anything but study. But I guess that’s how they’re like.”

They.
Not
she,
but
they,
as though Tiffany were part of a horde rather than an individual
.

He hadn’t thought anything about the comment then—he’d just been glad Daphne hadn’t flown into a jealous rage.

Bile rose in his throat. What else had he heard and suppressed from all those years ago? What jokes had he laughed along with, let slip by? It was no secret that the Cheungs were the only Asian family in the area, and he was certain they’d been the subject of plenty of crude comments. He remembered how Daniel had fought his way out of being a regular punching bag and only made friends after bagging that double to win the baseball team’s championship. But what about Tiffany? She’d never escaped the quiet, studious loner stereotype. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her eating lunch with anyone. He couldn’t even name a single person she was good friends with.

Chris cringed inwardly as the past washed over him. He couldn’t help staring at her as she sat at the dining table, her face a mask of concentration, shutting out everything around her. A minute later, Simon rejoined them, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. Tiffany gave him an encouraging smile and went straight back to her lesson with renewed energy.

Everything she’d been through, everything he had dumped on her...and she was still here, helping his son.

His stomach lurched. He couldn’t stand being there a moment longer. “I’ll see you—” Later would be too late, so he said, “Soon.”

“Sure.” She didn’t even look up.

He headed for the greenhouse, his head full of fog. He was trying to recall every word he’d ever said to Tiffany, worrying he’d offended her without knowing it, wondering how stupid and ignorant he might have sounded. He couldn’t honestly say he’d ever sat down with her and consciously noted their differences—it hadn’t crossed his mind. She’d simply been the smart girl who had tutored him.

The smart girl.
That
smart girl.
That smart Chinese girl.

He’d singled her out back in high school when he’d needed help. What if she’d taken it the wrong way? Yes, she was smart, but did she think he thought she was smart because she was Chinese? Did she think he’d only asked her to tutor Simon for the same reason? He could have asked anyone.

He paced. He was overthinking this. Yes, he could have asked anyone to tutor Simon, but he’d asked Tiffany. She was highly qualified, had a proven record of success, and she’d needed the money. She was the right person for the job, period.

But he acknowledged he’d never really thought about the girl—or the woman—Tiffany was. He’d never made the effort to get to know her—not seriously. She’d simply been a means to an end, an appointment to keep on Thursdays after football practice. He’d told her he appreciated her for all she’d done for him. But he’d never truly appreciated
her
for who she was.

Tiffany wasn’t just a tutor. She wasn’t just “that Chinese girl” who lived in Everville.

What was her favorite color? What was her favorite book? Movie? Band? Considering all the time they’d spent together, he should have known these trivial facts.

Now he’d been given a second chance to find out...and make things right.

* * *

D
ANIEL CLOSED HIS BEDROOM DOOR
and booted up the computer, his blood lurching through his heart like molten lead. A jumble of words kept stringing themselves together in his mind, but they were like beads on an untied string that kept sliding off the other end and scattering across the floor. Nothing he could say sounded intelligent, much less intelligible. This was going to be a disaster.

He loaded up Skype and checked himself in the mirror briefly. His hands were shaking, and his eyes looked a little wild. An alert chimed and he clicked the icon to load the chat.

Selena appeared in the window. She glowed beneath soft lamplight from a nearby fixture. She usually wore her long, dark curls pinned up while working, but they hung around her thin shoulders now. She had her glasses on, though he knew she wore contacts during the day. She looked relaxed in a light T-shirt, a cup of instant noodles visible in the webcam’s view off to one side.

“Hey, honey bear,” she said with a huge grin. “I’m so happy you got the camera working.”

“I had to get a new one,” he lied. He’d had this one for months; he simply hadn’t had the balls to hook it up. “How’s the image coming through over there?”

“Not bad, though I might be able to tell better if you took off your shirt.” She waggled her eyebrows. He chuckled, forgetting for a blissful moment that their relationship was doomed.

“Are you blushing?” she asked, leaning forward, her dark eyes looking down and not quite meeting the camera’s view. It felt like she was staring through his heart, trying to understand the muddiness there. “What’s wrong, Daniel? Are you really that embarrassed?”

“Well...” He didn’t want to admit it to her. “I don’t want to be interrupted again and have anyone see you. Or me. You know. Naked.”

“It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” She peered into the screen. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Oh, boy. “I’ve been thinking about you coming up here,” he started slowly. “I don’t know if you’re going to be comfortable staying in the house for two weeks.”

She tilted her head. “If you think it’s going to be a problem, I can get a room at a hotel instead.”

“There’s only one motel on the edge of town, but I’d rather you not stay there. It’s kind of sketchy.”

“How about a B and B?”

“I’ll have to look into it. I’d rather you stay with me, of course, but...”

“But you don’t know if your parents will accept that?” The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Among other things.” His eyes bulged. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Selena’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, the air burning his lungs. “I haven’t told them about you being...you know.”

“A gorgeous catch? Allergic to dogs? Web-footed? Help me out, here, honey bear.” Her weak laughter missed the mark.

“Not...Chinese.” He cringed.

She sat back, eyes wide. She blinked rapidly and glanced away. “Oh.”

“I don’t know how they’re going to react,” he explained. “My grandmother is from an older generation, and she raised my mom with certain beliefs, and my dad... Well, don’t get me started....”

“You really think it’s a problem, don’t you?” Her eyes grew flinty as she scrutinized him. And then she couldn’t look at him at all. Her hands folded and unfolded then hid from the camera’s view beneath the table. “I don’t understand why this hasn’t come up before. I’d think the name
Dr. Selena Worthington
would be a dead giveaway. What have you been telling them about me?”

He struggled to explain. “I told them you’re a doctor. I told them I met you online.” He rubbed his jaw. “Look, my parents are old school. They have certain ideas about who I should be with
—
”

“You know,” she interrupted, her tone rising from resigned to irked, “I’ve been dicked around by enough guys with commitment problems to know when they wanted out, and then gave me plenty of crazy reasons why they couldn’t be with me. But this has to be one of the top three bullshit excuses I’ve ever heard.”

This was spinning out of control. “It’s not you, it’s me.” Jeez, that sounded like a cliché. “I can’t control what my parents think. I don’t want things to get awkward—”

“For me or for you?” Selena pushed away from the desk and crossed her arms over her chest, fingers digging into her arms. She bounced her knee impatiently. “Let me ask you this. Does it matter to
you
that I’m white?”

He opened his mouth to say no, but nothing came out. He couldn’t put the words together to tell her what his real insecurities were. “My parents aren’t racist,” he said miserably.

Her features twisted with disgust. “Grow a spine, Daniel. Call me when you figure out what your real problem is.” She slapped a hand over the webcam and a second later, disconnected.

CHAPTER TEN

T
IFFANY PACKED HER THINGS
, rolling her stiff neck after a grueling session with Simon. She was looking forward to next week when they’d start
Animal Farm.
As much as she loved Shakespeare, she’d forgotten how much work it was to teach. On top of that, it was hard to keep Simon focused. The weather outside was bright and hot, and being cooped up indoors was doing little for his patience.

The clomp of heavy boots on the veranda heralding Chris’s arrival made her heart stutter. He strode in, a little out of breath.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left.” He was covered in bits of hay and grass, and his jeans were smeared with dirt, but Tiffany’s heart couldn’t stop pitter-pattering. Every time he rushed to see her, she had to stifle the smile threatening to stretch her face into a goofy grin.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice sounded a little raspy to her ears, but that was probably because Chris had pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his face. She was beginning to think he did that on purpose when she was around.

“I was wondering...” He hesitated, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his sweat-slicked hair. “I wanted to know if you’re free for dinner tomorrow night.”

The words seeped through her muddled brain. “Dinner?”

“I want to talk about—” he glanced around, lowered his voice “—Simon. I have some questions and I was hoping we could discuss a few things.”

She straightened, scolding herself for imagining his interest was in anything more than his son’s welfare. “That would be fine,” she said coolly, wincing inwardly at her all-business tone. Why couldn’t she loosen up now and again and at least pretend she was used to having guys ask her out?

“Perfect. There’s this great new place that’s opened up in Kielsburg. I think you’ll really like it. I’ll drive us both there after you’re done with Simon.”

Later, Tiffany pondered the exact reasons for this get-together. Perhaps he wanted to talk about college options. While Simon was making progress, she couldn’t guarantee scholarship-worthy marks. When it came to essay writing and reading, he wasn’t as sure of himself as he was with hands-on tasks. He simply didn’t have the confidence.

There was also the matter of William. She knew it wasn’t her business, but the old man wasn’t particularly encouraging. On two separate occasions, he’d called his grandson “a dummy” in that nasty half-joking way she couldn’t really decipher as being a dig or an actual joke. But she knew it bothered Simon—he lost focus when his grandfather was around. She didn’t want to interfere in their family matters again, but she couldn’t let this slide. If nothing else, William was starting to piss
her
off.

* * *

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY BEFORE TUTORING
, Daniel walked into the diner looking low and exhausted. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and his expression strained, as if he were holding back a scream. He’d been working nonstop, either at the diner or with his driving students, and it was obviously taking its toll. He hadn’t been eating much, prompting
Poh-poh
to boil up some pungent concoction of herbs in case he was coming down with something. He’d been like this all week. When Tiffany asked him about it, he shook his head and went back into the kitchen.

Her conscience niggled at her. He hadn’t been the same since their talk about his relationship with Selena. She’d been too cruel, too realistic, too
Tiffany-headed
. She should have known better than to think Daniel wouldn’t listen when she was being mean.

Something had happened, and it wasn’t good. Unfortunately, engaging him—or anyone in their family—in conversation about personal matters was like trying to pull teeth from a crocodile, so she came up with a new tack. “Hey, Daniel. I have a question for you.”

He looked up at her balefully.

“Do you think you and Dad could use another hand back here?”

“We could always use help,” he said with a slight shrug. “Why? Is there someone you have in mind?”

“Actually, yeah. Simon Jamieson.”

He shook his head. “Tiff...”

“It’s just an idea. The kid needs something to build up his confidence, and he seemed to like working here. I know things didn’t go well the last time, but I think it’d work out with the proper training.”

He scratched the thin stubble on his chin. He’d always been meticulous about his shaving habits and she was bothered by the sight of that scruffy shadow. “I’ll have to talk to Dad. We have the funds but...well, you know how cheap he is.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She sobered. Asking about a part-time job for Simon had only been an excuse to make her brother open up. “So...do you want to talk about whatever’s bugging you?”

“My college reunion is coming up. I’m trying to figure out whether I’m going to go.”

She didn’t believe he could possibly be brooding that much over a reunion. She went straight for the kill. “How’s Selena doing?”