Only Uni (37 page)

Translation:
You are off Grandma’s Ignore List if you attend the unveiling today, and all will be well in the Sakai family.

Trish leaped at the olive branch — even though it wasn’t really an olive branch because it didn’t mean Grandma actually forgave her, it just meant Grandma was talking to her again, conditional upon her attending the event. “Yes, what time?”

Since Kazuo was the star of the show, and it was sure to be large enough, she could avoid him for much of it. Plus she felt stronger after yesterday. She’d pray extra long in her SUV before going in. God would come through for her again, right?

“It’s at one o’clock, but arrive a little early. And I hope you wear that pretty silk suit I bought you last Christmas.”

Translation:
Wear the Christian Dior or be disowned.

“Certainly.” Trish had been a bit skinnier last Christmas, but she would cram her thunder thighs into that thing if it killed her.

The first people she saw at the unveiling ceremony surprised her. “Mom! Is it okay for you to be here?” She gave one parent a hug. At the other one she stopped, stood there awkwardly. Couldn’t make herself move to embrace him. Dad turned away to mingle with the rest of the crowd at the unveiling, pretending not to notice or care.

Mom, on the other hand, pressed her lips together and dug her nails into Trish’s upper arm. “That’s not very respectful, young lady.”

She honestly did feel bad that relations were so strange between them, but, well, Mom wasn’t the one who’d caught him
in flagrante
. “How’re you feeling? You look better.”

“You’re not changing the subject — Hello, Mr. Nakamura, so nice to see you.” Mom nodded at a passing white-haired man in an indecently expensive suit before turning back to her. “Your father and I are working things out.”

Working things out? For Japanese couples, that meant going on as before, pretending the problem didn’t exist.

What was Trish going to say?
No, I’ d actually like you to divorce the bozo and go against all the Christian principles I’m trying to model for you as a witness for Christ.
She also knew her dad. If they ever did actually talk about it, he’d charm Mom again like he always did, no matter what snit Mom had gotten herself worked up over.

However, Mom seemed different these days, less agitated. She even spoke with more calm than her normal NASCAR speed. “You’re looking good, Mom.”

“Life seems much slower lately, somehow. I’ve been so lazy, I’ve been watching these interesting Korean soap operas on TV . . .”

Trish caught sight of Kazuo — looking dashing in a black suit with his unruly hair pulled back in a neat ponytail — talking with an older gentleman, probably in Japanese judging from the deferential stoop of his shoulders and neck, the occasional short bow. Great! While he was occupied, Trish could talk with Grandma without fear of Grandma pulling him into their little
tete-a-tete.

“Thank you all for coming.” Grandma’s voice aired above the crowd from the amplifiers set up discreetly on either side of the bank’s large foyer, which had been cleared of islands and chairs. Too late to talk to her. Grandma stood behind a small podium slightly to the side of the bank’s far wall, which had been partially covered with a white cloth.

“We at Sakai Bank have always supported our community. I am very pleased to have discovered this brilliant artist here in San Jose, and to have added to the bank’s impressive collection of fine art pieces with this newest painting.

“Mr. Kazuo Kawakami has lived in our community for many years, but his family hails from Tokyo, Japan. In fact, his parents have flown in to the States to join us for this momentous occasion.” She gestured to a Japanese couple standing to the side of the podium, who beamed and gave stately bows.

“And now, let me present . . .
Kubi ga nai Chikin
!” Grandma swept her hand upward in a dramatic flourish as the sheet covering the wall dropped.

Trish knew that painting. One of her least favorites of his, actually, possibly because of the bloody chicken head staring straight at the viewer with a look that mingled confusion and outrage at the same time. The same painting he had refused to mark down in price even when she told him it was too ugly for anyone to want.

Apparently not too ugly for Sakai Bank. She joined in the applause.

People rushed toward Kazuo to talk to him. Perfect. Trish left her mother chatting with one of her aunties and shoved her way through the crowd to the podium.

Grandma bestowed a pleased yet cool smile as she caught sight of Trish approaching, which was pretty much what she’d been expecting. At least she didn’t turn her nose up and refuse to acknowledge her existence on planet earth. “Trish, come meet Mr. and Mrs. Kawakami.”

Before she could get a word in, she found herself thrust before the elegantly clad couple bowing graciously to her.
“Hajimemashite doozo yoroshiku.”
She managed a credible bow, although the waistband of the silk skirt threatened to slice her torso in half. She straightened with a soft grunt of pain.

Grandma spoke to them in Japanese. “This is the granddaughter who speaks Japanese with such a lovely accent.”

Say what? Years ago, when Trish had been taking her Japanese classes, this was the same woman who had coolly informed her that her accent sounded like a country pig farmer with marbles in his mouth. Trish hadn’t spoken Japanese in front of Grandma in years.

Mrs. Kawakami smiled and spoke in her native tongue. “All your cousins speak Japanese?”

“No, I’m the only one who speaks fluently.” Trish spoke very slowly to make sure her accent and inflections were dead perfect.

“How wonderful that you keep up with your heritage.” Mr. Kawakami fingered his Italian suit.

“You must be very proud of your son.” Trish glanced quickly at the hideous painting and tried not to wince.

His parents looked rather pained, themselves. “We are very happy for him. When he settles down, he will be a good manager for our bank in Japan.”

Whoa. She’d known Kazuo’s parents were wealthy — after all, they supported all his financial needs rather effortlessly — but now she understood Grandma’s insistence that Kazuo was such a
nice boy.
His parents had such a
nice bank.

“Trish and Kazuo are very good friends.” Grandma’s smile was as slick as snake oil.

That’s why Grandma had wanted Trish here today. That was the condition of Trish’s return to matriarchal favor. Grandma had thought that Kazuo’s parents’ money would sway her. Maybe a few months ago, it would have. Now, it would be selling her soul.

A part of her ached like a festering wound at the thought that Grandma wanted her together with Kazuo because of what his parents could do for the bank, not because of what he could do for Trish. To Grandma, Trish’s life and feelings were peripheral. Someone Trish had always wanted to please hadn’t given a thought to pleasing her.

It wasn’t Kazuo’s parents’ fault. They were collateral damage in this war of the Sakai women.

If her cousin Venus were in this position, she would baldly inform the Kawakamis that she’d broken up with Kazuo. Lex would announce that their son was a possessive demon with a temper and the last man she’d be interested in. Jenn would go silent and passive aggressive.

Trish turned on the charm. “Have you met others of my family? This is my Uncle Nakamura. He owns a resort in Beppu and goes back quite often.” She eased shy Uncle Nakamura into the conversation and then turned to Grandma. “I need to talk to you.”

Grandma hedged. “I have important guests I need to see — ”

Trish steeled herself and wouldn’t take the easy way out. “It won’t take long.”

“This is a very important event for Grandma.” She must be suspecting what Trish wanted to talk about if she was speaking in third person again.

Her stomach acid went volcanic. What was she doing? This would kill her mother. The alternative was being guilted and nagged into a marriage with Kazuo — and she knew Grandma was already thinking along those lines, she could tell — which would probably topple Trish over the edge to homicide of said potential husband. Or maybe she was watching too much
CSI
.

For the first time in a long time, she really didn’t care what Grandma thought. “I’m not going to marry him.”

Wide eyes beneath Shiseido-blue lids. “Who said anything about marriage? Trish, you’re being silly.”

She gritted her teeth. “I mean, I’m not getting back together with Kazuo.”

“Never say never, dear.”

“He’s abusive and possessive.” Emotional abuse counted, right? She steeled her glare. “And I know you’d never want me with someone who treats me like chattel.”
Ha! Try and wiggle out of that one, Grandma.

She turned falsely innocent eyes on Trish. “He said he’s changed. Don’t you believe him?”

Aargh, Grandma was better at this than she was. “No, I don’t. In fact, I haven’t seen evidence he’s changed at all.”

“Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance? Isn’t that what your
religion
teaches you?”

Oooh, low blow. Maybe Lex was right about the mysterious reasons behind Grandma’s big fight with her long-time best friend — oops,
ex-
best friend, Mrs. Matsumoto, who happened to be an outspoken Christian. Maybe Mrs. Matsumoto had said something that hit too close to Grandma’s heart.

“Jesus said to give people grace, not to put yourself back in dangerous situations.” Not that he’d actually hit her or anything, but dumping her car keys down the toilet had to count for something.

“I think you’re mistaken about the . . . about his temper. It must be a misunderstanding. Look how nice his parents are.”

“They’re very nice, but I’m not marrying
them
.”

“Who said anything about — ”

Oops. “I mean, I’m not dating them. Him. I’m not dating him again.” Arguing with Grandma always turned her into such an idiot.

“You’re such a disappointment to Grandma. You were always one of Grandma’s favorite grandchildren.”

The petulance in her tone destroyed Trish’s last remnants of guilt about disobeying her. “I’m actually protecting the family.” She smiled, all sugar and spice.

Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m guarding the family’s gene pool. No neurotic artist genes in my children.”

Grandma’s mouth pinched tighter than if she’d eaten an
ume
sour plum.

Trish stood up straighter. “Good-bye, Grandma.” She turned and walked away.

THIRTY

T
rish only jogged when she felt fat, which was about once a week, which fell on a Monday this time. The stress was also prying open a hole in the base of her skull with a pair of flat-nosed pliers. Hopefully, some physical exercise would ease her neck pain.

She checked the time on her computer. Two o’clock. She had a two-hour incubation time, and she would need to stay late tonight to finish the assay. She’d be a good girl and go running now.

She changed into shorts and the extra pair of running shoes she kept at work but rarely used. She stood stretching outside the building when Spenser walked out, also in shorts and running shoes.

“Join you?” Tentativeness in his eyes belied his casual words and stance that seemed to assert nothing was wrong.

She didn’t want company. She had too many things to hash over, including her own unusual defiance of Grandma yesterday.

Yet at the same time, she wanted to spend more time with him despite what happened on Saturday. But wasn’t that looking, or at least encouraging him? Wouldn’t she be breaking rule number one?

Well, she wouldn’t actually be
looking
at him, he’d be next to her. Besides, who was she kidding? This was Spenser. When talking about how he thought of her, hadn’t he used the
friend
word on Saturday? Not the
interested
word or the
like
word.

Another problem was the embarrassing fact that her cousins’ kids on tricycles could beat her in a race. “I’m pretty slow.”

“I’ll try to keep up.” He winked.