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jangled discordantly as she preceded her grandmother into the Good Fortune. The place had been an old diner before her parents had converted it into a North-American style Chinese eatery. The Formica tables and cracked red vinyl seats had been preserved, but the walls were covered in mirrors to make the space look bigger. Rose sat at the table closest to the counter rolling plastic take-out utensils in paper napkins. She glanced up. “We just got a shipment of supplies that need unloading. Go help your father and Daniel.”
    “Mom.” Tiffany pointed at the sling.
    “So, don’t use your bad arm. Carry the lighter things and the bags. It’s not like you broke your leg.”
    Tiffany set her teeth. Fine. The sooner she was done, the sooner she could leave. She dropped her purse behind the counter while Poh-poh eased herself into a chair across from her mother and started speaking in rapid-fire Cantonese.
    Passing through the swinging door into the kitchen, she nearly walked into Daniel, who carried two large boxes of vegetables. “Finally decided to show up?” He cocked a smile.
    “I only popped in because I was helping Poh-poh with groceries . Mom conscripted me into helping unload.”
    “If you do a good job, I’ll fry up your favorites,” he teased.
    She shuddered. “Ugh. Chicken balls.” When she was young, her parents had literally paid her in chicken balls to work at the diner after school and on weekends—one per hour. She’d loved the fried doughy balls smothered in bright orange sweet-and-sour sauce and had hoarded them greedily. But her palate was much more sophisticated these days, and besides, she had a figure to watch.
    She followed Daniel through the kitchen and out the back door to where the delivery truck sat in the alley. Her father conversed with the driver, acknowledging her with a short wave.
    “So, I was at the grocery store with Poh-poh, ” Tiffany began as she grabbed a big bag of onions with her uninjured right hand, “and I saw a display of organic produce from the Jamiesons’ farm. Is that Chris Jamieson? The one from high school?”
    “Yeah, he’s running the family business now.”
    “What about his father?”
    Daniel grimaced. “I guess you didn’t hear about the accident. The tractor overturned while William was out in the field and it crushed his left leg. They had to amputate.”
    She gasped and dropped the bag of onions. “Oh, my God.”
    “He’s all right. I mean, minus a leg. He doesn’t come in much anymore, though.” Daniel didn’t sound too broken up about that, Tiff noted. He continued, “Actually, I saw Chris last week when I was at Frank’s checking on your car. He was surprised to hear you were in town.”
    “He was?” A stupid little thrill shimmied down to the base of her spine. She straightened in an attempt to suppress the sensation. “I’m surprised he remembered me at all.”
    Daniel gave her a smarmy grin. “You still have a crush on him, don’t you?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. That was high school.” She busied herself unpacking a box of vegetables to hide the color flaming across her cheeks. “I’m totally over him.”
    “That’s too bad because he’s available again.”
    Her hands stilled as the words ricocheted through her brain. “Again?”
    “He and his wife divorced...wow, must be nine years ago now.”
    “I didn’t even know he’d been married,” she said slowly, her mind buzzing. She was unsure how she was supposed to feel about this news. Divorce was one of those sticky events where you didn’t know whether to console or congratulate a person.
    “See, this is what happens when you don’t call,” Daniel said. “Important gossip goes right past your radar.” He sliced a hand over his head. “Anyhow, Daphne—Chris’s high school girlfriend, I don’t know if you remember her—left him for this real-estate developer when their son was about six. Didn’t fight for custody or alimony or anything. Her new husband’s