Page 40 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“It is, Ma,” I say gently.

“What?” Ma cries. “So this whole time, there are all this people peeping at our house like—like—” She flaps her arms like an angry chicken. “Like we some peeping show for pervert to look at?”

“Who would want to do that?” Fourth Aunt says with a roll of her eyes. “You think people don’t have anything better to do than watch your boring old house?”

“Not boring,” Ma snaps. “Is only two years ago when—ah—”

I close my eyes. I can’t believe she was about to bring up that whole thing with Ah Guan just to win an argument against Fourth Aunt. Well, who am I kidding? Of course she would. “It’s fine, Ma,” I say loudly. “Nobody’s looking at our house from space. We’re just normal people.”

“From space?” Ma cries.

“Never mind, forget I said anything. Let’s focus on this.” I pat her hand and turn her attention back to the screen, where Nathan is expertly studying the house from every possible angle.

“Those are some serious walls,” Fourth Aunt muses. She’s right. The walls surrounding Kristofer’s house are definitely unscalable by the likes of us. And even if we did manage tosomehow scale them, there are coils of barbed wire on top that would tear us to shreds.

“You’ll have to go in as his guests,” Julia Child says.

“Tch, he’ll know they’re strangers,” Abi sighs. “I’m loathe to say anything nice about Kristofer, but he’s a devil for details. You and I might not notice a handful of extra guests not on the list, but he would.”

Julia Child’s top lip curls into a sneer. “You’re right. He is a stickler for details.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Um, we could go in as service staff. For a party this big, he’ll definitely have helpers, right? And probably caterers, maybe even photographers?”

They both look at me as though seeing me for the first time. “Good idea, girl,” Julia Child says.

Ma beams with unabashed pride. “Aduh, of course my Meddy coming up with good idea. She is best photographer, you know? Back in LA, she win this very prestigious photography award, and—”

Oh god. If I don’t stop her, she’ll talk their ears off about all of my achievements, which is sweet in a completely mortifying way. “Anyway,” I say loudly. “Maybe we can get in as caterers.”

Nathan nods at me. “Great idea. That way, we won’t even have to show our faces at the main party. We’d be inside the kitchen.”

“But how would we get in as caterers?” Fourth Aunt says with a frown. “We’d need a van, and not to mention food, and...” She trails off at the sight of our forlorn faces.

This is the thing about plotting something illicit. Even though I’ve been through it with Ah Guan’s death, and then again at our wedding with Staphanie’s family, I’m still takenaback by the sheer amount of planning that one has to do every step of the way. Committing a crime is never as easy as the movies make it seem. Obstacles sprout like weeds, and each one requires meticulous planning, otherwise the whole thing falls apart.

“Do you know who he might have hired as caterers?” I say to Julia Child. Despite her vehemence about loathing Kristofer, she seems to know a lot about what he’s up to.

Sure enough, Julia Child sniffs and says, “Oh, that unimaginative man? Every year he hires the same people. The Ritz. How boring does one have to be? I’ve hired them a couple of times myself. They’re good, but there’s something to be said for variety, you know.”

Big Aunt’s eyes widen. “The Ritz? I use to work there. I was head baker. They use to call me Mami.” Her face softens at fond memories of her years at the Ritz.

“Oh yes,” Ma laughs. “We use to call your chefs ‘the ducklings,’ because they always following you around like little ducklings. Aduh, those were good years.” For a moment, Ma and Big Aunt smile into the distance, lost in their memories.

“I will call them,” Big Aunt says. “Maybe they allow us to come along with them.”

We’re all silent as Big Aunt goes through her contact list on her phone, muttering to herself. After a minute, she goes, “Okay. I know who best to call.” I swear none of us even dares to breathe as she hits Call. She puts the phone on speaker for our benefit. It takes three rings before it’s answered.

“Mami Friya?” the man on the other side booms in Indonesian, the joy in his voice palpable. “Can it really be you? It’s been so long!”

A smile spreads across Big Aunt’s face, rearranging thewrinkles on it into a picture of sheer happiness. “How are you, my dear Wito? Aduh, it’s been too, too long.”

“Take the carrots out now,” Wito calls out to somebody in the background. “Fork tender, not mushy, okay?” He directs his attention back to the phone. “Mami, it’s good to hear from you. Are you in town? You must come and visit the kitchen. Everyone will be so happy to see you.”

Big Aunt nods as though he could see her right now. “Ah, I would love to, Wito. I hear you have been promoted to sous chef. How wonderful. Congratulations!”

“Well, yes, after that glowing recommendation letter you wrote, there was no way I wasn’t going to get the promotion. Aduh, Mami, I owe it all to you.”

Tears form in Big Aunt’s eyes and she blinks them away rapidly. It’s only then that I realize I’m beaming too. Seeing Big Aunt in her element, adored and admired by her ex-colleague, is wonderful. It reminds me just what a rich and fulfilling life she had back here.

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