“It was unfortunate,” Granny added, “that the rumour was true. Mr. Yu had a stroke when he saw them.”
“And the Widow Woo will gloat to everyone how she was right about them while she ruins our family business!” wailed Mrs. Tan, frantically pulling at a fresh tissue from the package.
“Mrs. Yu finally found love after all these years?” Jenny sighed.
“Mr. Yu survived the stroke, but he now needs constant care.” Granny continued. “Their daughter, Wendy, had a nasty row with Mrs. Woo and blamed her for her father’s condition. And because of the shame brought onto her family, Mrs. Yu separated from her lover, who eventually moved to Vancouver.”
“Customers are checking their change and studying their receipts.” Mrs. Tan dabbed at the fresh stream of tears. “There is no more trust.” She shook her head vigorously, but not a strand of her hair, permed and dyed jet black, moved.
“People will forget once they hear the next scandal,” Granny said.
“The very reason why I came here today.” There was a new determination in Mrs. Tan’s voice. “To warn you.”
Granny’s eyes widened and her back stiffened as she leaned towards her friend. “Warn me? About what?”
“About Mrs. Woo. She is talking about you.”
“Me? I am an old woman,” Jenny’s grandmother protested. “What can she do to me? I have nothing she wants.”
“I don’t know, but she has been seen talking to your husband whenever he goes to Chinatown,” Mrs. Tan said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Did he tell you?”
Granny’s lips tightened. She sat up straight and looked down at her hands on her lap. “Of course he did,” she replied.
According to the gossip mill and Mrs. Tan, the Widow had met Grandfather several times—a couple of times in Chinatown and a couple of times on the street.
“She is only talking to him.” Granny didn’t look entirely certain.
“She is planning something,” Mrs. Tan warned.
“A woman who needs to attack others does so because she is weak and unhappy.” Granny waggled a bony finger in the air. “She was not fortunate enough to have had a good marriage arranged for her.”
“Many women were not fortunate,” argued Mrs. Tan, “but they didn’t ruin others because of their own misfortune.”
“But they are not weak,” Granny replied.
“She’s evil,” Jenny blurted out.
“You are young,” chided her grandmother. “Even though you are in university, you do not yet fully understand the ways of the world.”
“You are as young as your grandmother was at your age,” Mrs. Tan said with a light laugh. “And you look like her too, but she never had such long hair!”
A half-hour later, Mrs. Tan was ready to leave. Granny insisted on giving her friend some home-made pork buns and shuffled off to the kitchen to wrap them in foil paper. Jenny was stacking the dishes on a tray when Mrs. Tan grabbed her arm.
“You must look after your grandmother,” she hissed into Jenny’s ear. “You are right. The Widow Woo is evil.”
“But what does she want from my grandmother?”
“Not your grandmother, silly girl,” Mrs. Tan said impatiently. “Your grandfather. Did you not know they were almost betrothed to each other?”
The news jolted Jenny like an electric current.
“That woman’s spiteful spirit feeds by preying on innocent people.” A light spray of spittle accentuated the force of Mrs. Tan’s words. “Believe me when I tell you it will be on the Widow’s conscience if something happens to your grandmother because of her.”
Granny came back with the pork buns wrapped and tucked into a plastic grocery bag. Mrs. Tan accepted the bag with gratitude. Jenny walked their visitor to the front door.
“Jiély,” Mrs. Tan addressed Jenny by her Chinese name. “You must come and practise tai chi with our little group next week. You will find it very informative.”
Jenny smiled and accepted the invitation. When their visitor left, she closed the oak door and slumped against it.
Maybe Mrs. Tan was overreacting. Gossip hurt, but it never killed anyone. Grandfather was now seventy years old, retired, and bored. His main activity these days was reminiscing about the past. Maybe she could get him to talk about Mrs. Woo.
An hour later, Grandfather returned from his visit to Chinatown.
“Jiély,” he said, entering the living room. The strands of white hair covering his balding head had been restyled by the wind. He wore the white polo shirt and khaki pants her parents had bought him for his birthday. The shirt fit snugly around his waistline but sagged at the shoulders. “Nay sic phan mah? Have you eaten?”
“Sic joh, a goong. I already ate, grandfather,” she responded.
“You learned how to make pork buns today.” He sniffed the air and smacked his lips. “Let’s see how good a student you are.”
“Want to eat outside?” Putting down the newspaper she’d been reading, she rose from the sofa. Granny was napping in her room, but Jenny wanted to be sure she wouldn’t overhear their discussion. “I’ll bring some for you.”
By the time Jenny appeared on the front balcony carrying a tray with a plate of buns, a pot of tea and two tea cups, her grandfather was reclined comfortably on a patio chair.
Jenny placed the tray on a small plastic table. He picked up a pork bun, took a large bite and made a low guttural sound of satisfaction. She perched on a small lawn chair with the tray between them; they sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching passers-by and listening to the sounds of summer erupting from Fletcher’s Field across the street.
The park was glorious in the summer. Its paths were alive with people strolling, bicycling or in-line skating. The playground and the wading pool were busy with small children. The open area was where Granny’s tai chi group met twice a week.
How was she going to bring up the topic of his near-engagement to Mrs. Woo?
“What did Mrs. Tan want to see your grandmother about?”
“How did you know she was here?” Jenny asked in surprise.
“I saw her at the Lucky Grocery Store.” He paused and shook his head. “Such a bad thing to happen to them.”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “She thinks Mrs. Woo is causing all their trouble.”
He grunted in response.
“Do you think she is?”
“She could be.” He sighed. “That woman is so much trouble.”
