could be gentle as he was the night he consoled her mother over their father’s murder. He never hugged or shook hands with the kids, but rather taught them how to bow in respect to their elders. The few Chinese words Lily knew, she had learned from Mr. Liu. Her mother had rejected her past, Americanizing as much as possible, even dropping her Chinese name, Chanjuan, and going by Maggie.
Lily’s current condition had her reconsidering family dynamics. Her grandmother was a proud woman who Seth and Lily only met twice. The first time was in grade school when they traveled to China. The second time was when she came to the states for her son-in-law’s funeral. Their grandfather was an American businessman who had met their grandmother when marketing to the Far East. He died of a stroke in his sixties. Arthur Moore’s parents were both gone, as well. They had died the year before her father’s death. She wondered if her grandparents had known about their son’s uniqueness. How could they not? Lily didn’t know them well, either. They had spent much of their time in Florida.
The thump of a bass drum drew her head up. Snatches of obscure voices and techtronic rhythms drifted to her along with the engine hum of a luxury car. Larry coasted down the street with the Chemical Brothers blasting from the speakers of his convertible. The pulse and thump of the music lent interesting orchestration to the blooms swirling in the wind. As soon as Larry pulled into the driveway, she ran to him. He opened the garage, but didn’t pull forward. Throwing the car into park, he opened the driver’s door, allowing her to leap into his arms.
“You little shit! Where did you go? I was scared to death.” He looked to her expecting an answer. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and smelled him—grilled salmon from lunch mixed with his cologne that filled her nose with notes of bergamot, cinnamon, patchouli, sandalwood, and leather.
He drove into the garage with her on his lap. As soon as he opened the car door, she jumped down and waited to be let in. Larry carried his computer bag with him as he let her into the house. “You must be starving. You never ate breakfast,” he said.
My hero. Some people looked to muscle-bound men with big guns for rescue, but at this moment, Larry with his pear-shaped body clad in a crisp white shirt, lavender pullover, and white slacks was a god!
Before starting his meal prep in the kitchen, Larry created a top knot with her fur and positioned a magenta bow in the middle of her forehead. “You look adorable.” He snapped several pictures. The only reason she tolerated it was because she could smell the chicken on the counter.
When he began cooking Paula Dean’s recipe for fried chicken, she almost forgot about her troubles and the latest news about her father. However, betrayal is a prolific virus. Once it burrows deep into your core fibers, it’s difficult to shake. Her parents’ deception was not sitting well. When she thought about her father withholding this information from her, she felt ill.
Chapter 7
Li Liu
The tranquil night contrasted with Seth’s state of mind as he stole away from the Ansley Park home. One block east on Barksdale Drive, he slipped into his Dodge Ram truck. His hands were sweating as he started the vehicle.
For Christ’s sakes, I’m not a crook. He had parked his truck one block away since he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing at the side of Larry and Frank’s house with a bag full of chick stuff. But he had promised Lily a care package and he delivered it behind the air conditioning unit as they had agreed.
The time glowed green on the dash, 11:54.
It had felt weird to be close to Lily, yet unable to talk to her. He had been tempted to peer inside the impressive home, but “Peeping Tom” was not a skill set he’d like listed on his resume.
Seeing the place in person, he now appreciated why Lily referred to it as “the Manor.” At
Lily’s current condition had her reconsidering family dynamics. Her grandmother was a proud woman who Seth and Lily only met twice. The first time was in grade school when they traveled to China. The second time was when she came to the states for her son-in-law’s funeral. Their grandfather was an American businessman who had met their grandmother when marketing to the Far East. He died of a stroke in his sixties. Arthur Moore’s parents were both gone, as well. They had died the year before her father’s death. She wondered if her grandparents had known about their son’s uniqueness. How could they not? Lily didn’t know them well, either. They had spent much of their time in Florida.
The thump of a bass drum drew her head up. Snatches of obscure voices and techtronic rhythms drifted to her along with the engine hum of a luxury car. Larry coasted down the street with the Chemical Brothers blasting from the speakers of his convertible. The pulse and thump of the music lent interesting orchestration to the blooms swirling in the wind. As soon as Larry pulled into the driveway, she ran to him. He opened the garage, but didn’t pull forward. Throwing the car into park, he opened the driver’s door, allowing her to leap into his arms.
“You little shit! Where did you go? I was scared to death.” He looked to her expecting an answer. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and smelled him—grilled salmon from lunch mixed with his cologne that filled her nose with notes of bergamot, cinnamon, patchouli, sandalwood, and leather.
He drove into the garage with her on his lap. As soon as he opened the car door, she jumped down and waited to be let in. Larry carried his computer bag with him as he let her into the house. “You must be starving. You never ate breakfast,” he said.
My hero. Some people looked to muscle-bound men with big guns for rescue, but at this moment, Larry with his pear-shaped body clad in a crisp white shirt, lavender pullover, and white slacks was a god!
Before starting his meal prep in the kitchen, Larry created a top knot with her fur and positioned a magenta bow in the middle of her forehead. “You look adorable.” He snapped several pictures. The only reason she tolerated it was because she could smell the chicken on the counter.
When he began cooking Paula Dean’s recipe for fried chicken, she almost forgot about her troubles and the latest news about her father. However, betrayal is a prolific virus. Once it burrows deep into your core fibers, it’s difficult to shake. Her parents’ deception was not sitting well. When she thought about her father withholding this information from her, she felt ill.
Chapter 7
Li Liu
The tranquil night contrasted with Seth’s state of mind as he stole away from the Ansley Park home. One block east on Barksdale Drive, he slipped into his Dodge Ram truck. His hands were sweating as he started the vehicle.
For Christ’s sakes, I’m not a crook. He had parked his truck one block away since he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing at the side of Larry and Frank’s house with a bag full of chick stuff. But he had promised Lily a care package and he delivered it behind the air conditioning unit as they had agreed.
The time glowed green on the dash, 11:54.
It had felt weird to be close to Lily, yet unable to talk to her. He had been tempted to peer inside the impressive home, but “Peeping Tom” was not a skill set he’d like listed on his resume.
Seeing the place in person, he now appreciated why Lily referred to it as “the Manor.” At
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