CHAPTER
AN OLDER COUPLE WALKED UP THE STEPS TO
Orlando’s aunt’s house at three-thirty. They were dressed in black, and they appeared to be Korean, like the mother Orlando had lost when she was just a child and like her recently deceased aunt Jeong. The woman stared at Quinn as she walked by, careful to keep as much distance between them as possible. The man gave Quinn a nod, then paid him no more attention.
The couple had a key to the front door and soon disappeared inside, not bothering to see if Quinn wanted to come in also.
A few minutes later, more people started arriving, all Koreans. Some looked at Quinn as if they were asking, “Should I know you?” But most just ignored him.
At three forty-five, a black limo pulled up to the curb. An elderly couple emerged from the back. Quinn guessed the woman was at least eighty, and the man a few years older. Once they were on the sidewalk, a third person climbed from the car. A woman, much younger.
She was wearing a black calf-length dress, conservative but stylish. Her hair was pinned back from her face, and she had on a pair of simple, wire-framed glasses. Despite the fact that she was also wearing heels, she stood no more than five foot two. But unlike the other arrivals, she was only half Korean. Her father was a mix of Thai and American Irish, making his daughter Orlando a true American blend.
As she stepped up onto the sidewalk to join the couple, she glanced toward the front door of the house. When she caught sight of Quinn, she stopped, her eyes locking on him. Then, perhaps only noticeable to him, she seemed to relax, her shoulders lowering, her mouth easing open in what could almost be a smile.
Quinn pushed himself off the stoop and walked over to her. There were tears in Orlando’s eyes as she closed the gap and fell into his embrace. The older couple she had arrived with walked toward the house, their eyes straight ahead, pretending not to notice the sudden public display.
Quinn placed one hand in the middle of Orlando’s back, then rubbed the other across her shoulder.
“You came,” she said, not looking up.
“Always the queen of the obvious,” he said.
He could feel her smile against his chest, then her left hand moved away and punched him in the arm.
When she finally pulled away, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t make the service.”
“It’s okay. I got your messages. I was just... too busy.”
She looked toward the door of her aunt’s home. A woman was there, the one who’d arrived first, looking down at Orlando. She motioned for her to come inside.
“Come on,” Orlando said to Quinn.
The woman said something to Orlando in Korean as they entered. After Orlando answered her, the woman looked at Quinn, then turned and walked away.
“Aunt Jay’s sister-in-law,” Orlando said. Jay was Aunt Jeong’s nickname. “She seems to think she owns all this now.”
“Does she?”
“No,” Orlando said. “I do.”
“You could always give it to her.”
“Not a chance.”
As was the nature of a shotgun-style house, Aunt Jeong’s place was much longer than it was wide, with room after room from front to back. Just beyond the entrance was a small living room overcrowded with old furniture. The walls were covered with pictures: a painting of Christ, some landscapes, and several photos. Several guests had already staked out positions on the tan couch and the two ratty-looking recliners.
Orlando led him into a hallway that ran along the left side of the house. They passed the stairs to the second floor, a small bathroom, a guest bedroom, and a formal dining area before coming to the end of the hall and entering the kitchen.
This was where most of the crowd was. Over a dozen people were crammed into the room. Quinn had heard them talking in Korean as he and Orlando approached, but as soon as he entered the kitchen all conversation stopped.
Orlando said something to them. The only word Quinn could pick out was “Jonathan.” He got a couple nods from the men, but no more than blank stares from the women.
Orlando turned to him. “More of my aunt’s in-laws.” She whispered, “They think maybe you’re my white boyfriend.”
“What if I were Korean?”
“They’d be pulling out chairs for you and stuffing food in your face.”
Quinn smiled. The truth was, he had relatives who would have treated Orlando pretty much the same way if their roles had been reversed.
Orlando grabbed two plastic cups off the kitchen table and handed one to Quinn. “Here,” she said. “Lemonade.”
They stood in the kitchen for a while, Orlando talking first with one guest, then another, and Quinn just trying to be the caring friend.
After about forty-five minutes, Orlando held up her empty cup and said, “I think I need something a little
