The Samurai's Daughter by Sujata Massey

senbei crackers to Manami’s bedside. Then I’d invite her to come along with me to Hopewell’s, where I would kill two birds with one stone: get the engagement ring resized, and find out what I could about the old Japanese letter that my parents had sold in the seventies.
    In the kitchen, all I found was my mother, already in action. She was rolling out scones. I could smell some baking in the oven, and there were three trays waiting on the counter.
    â€œYour father already left for the hospital,” she said when she saw me setting up a pot of green tea.
    â€œIt’s for Manami, actually.”
    â€œShe’s out, too. Your dad was going to give her a ride to campus, but she must have left even earlier. Do you want a scone?”
    So Manami was gone; I wouldn’t be able to take her to Hopewell’s. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for Hugh.”
    â€œThat’s nice. You may have two each; the rest are for the party.”
    â€œOh, that’s right. The Boxing Day party is this afternoon. What do you need help with?”
    â€œWell, I noticed you did the silver yesterday, sweetie; thanks for that. I think…well, the baking’s under control…maybe if youcould pick up the sushi for me? Oh, darn, the car window. I almost forgot. You can’t possibly drive.”
    â€œI’ll take the bus then. And Mom, there’s someone coming to fix the glass this morning. Hugh and I already gave him a credit card number; don’t you try to pay for it, okay? We feel so terrible about it—”
    â€œDon’t, sweetie. It’s a small price to pay for the sake of your engagement.”
    â€œSpeaking of workers, do you know someone who could repair or replace a stove? Before we leave, we want to see if something can be done for—for a client of Hugh’s. She’s living in the worst place imaginable, and can’t get the landlord to do anything about her stove.”
    â€œThat’s very sweet of you, Rei. I must say that you’re doing a lot to try to help everyone. It’ll be a great loss when you’re gone.”
    â€œNot to everyone,” I said roughly, thinking of my father.
    â€œI think you’re wrong. But anyway, Emil Sonnenfeld is the person I’d recommend, because he’s usually been able to help me within twenty-four hours. Shall I call him for you?”
    â€œThat would be great. I’ll give you the address.” I handed my mother the card on which I’d written it down on Christmas Eve.
    â€œWhat’s the tenant’s name?”
    â€œMom, I’m not supposed to divulge that. Just tell him that if it’s an old Filipina lady, he’s got the right place and should send the bill to you. I mean, to me, in care of your house.”
    But my mother wasn’t interested in issues of payment. “She’s from the Philippines? For heaven’s sake, why don’t you invite her to the Asian Language League party.”
    â€œI’m almost positive she’s not a member. The dues would be too high, anyway—”
    â€œShe’ll be my guest, then. What’s her number? Shall I call her?”
    â€œLet me do that,” I said. “Or better yet, Hugh. He’s the one she really knows and trusts.”
    â€œGood morning, good morning.” It was Hugh, dressed for business in a gray flannel suit. “Who is the soul who’s crazy enough to trust me?”
    â€œOur—I mean your—client,” I said, struggling for balance as he swept me into his arms for a kiss. He reeked of the Caswell-Masseytoiletries my mother had stocked in his bathroom. “My mother came up with an electrician who might be able to fix the stove.”
    â€œThank goodness you remembered. I’d practically forgotten.” Hugh sounded rueful.
    â€œThat’s what wives are for!” my mother said archly. She was smirking as if she’d enjoyed the display of public