Free The Favorites by Mary Yukari Waters Page A

Sarah thought. “How are you, Auntie,” she said, presenting the newspaper cone with both hands. “They sent you these.”
    “ Maa, how lovely!” Mrs. Nishimura reached for the flowers with hands still covered in wet rubber gloves. “How well they’re growing this year!” She held the bouquet away from her at arm’s length, as if planning an ikebana arrangement in her mind. Her face, alight with pleasure and gratitude, filled Sarah with sudden shame.
    Ever since the cream puff incident had ensured her place in her mother and grandmother’s inner circle, she was aware of taking her aunt’s rightful place.
    All through her childhood Sarah had believed adults were immune to certain types of pain, just as lobsters (according to her grandmother) were incapable of feeling boiling water. That was because adults had perspective. They understood why things had to happen; they didn’t take it personally the way children did. This belief had consoled her when she fought with her mother. Regarding her aunt’s adoption, she had assumed that a grown woman would be mature enough to understand the situation.
    But recently she had begun to question this. She sometimes imagined herself as her aunt, living just a few houses away and watching her real mother dote on the daughter she had chosen to keep. How would she feel, living so close but unable to rummage for sticky-bean cakes in the Kobayashis’ cupboard, or even drop by unannounced for a cup of tea? She didn’t think she could bear it. It was a wonder that her aunt had, all these years.It was a wonder that everyone involved could go about their daily lives with such equanimity.
    All of this stirred within her as she watched her aunt’s glowing face. “Tell them I said thank you!” Mrs. Nishimura was saying.
    Sarah felt oddly like crying. “I have to go,” she mumbled. It was a relief to turn away. As she hurried past the hydrangea bushes she remembered seeing her own mother rush off this way after delivering something to the Asaki house. For the first time, she understood the contrition behind the two women’s painstaking complicity. For their happiness, like hers, had come at the cost of someone else.

chapter 12
    “W hat a lovely yuzu arrangement!” praised Mrs. Asaki. She stood before the altar, ready to pray. Sarah sat at the low table and watched her.
    Reaching into her clutch purse, the old woman drew out a set of mahogany prayer beads with purple tassels. She also drew out a formal monetary envelope, which she placed on the altar. Her envelopes always contained several crisp ten-thousand-yen bills.
    Mrs. Asaki closed her eyes. Reciting rapidly under her breath, she manipulated the beads with deft fingers. Then, switching back instantly from the ethereal to the earthly, she smiled down at Sarah.
    “A little shopping for you and your mama.” She nodded toward the envelope with twinkling eyes.
    Mrs. Kobayashi and Mrs. Rexford entered the room with trays of tea and refreshments. “Won’t you stay, Granny?” they asked. Mrs. Asaki promptly took a seat at the low table.
    Despite their private resentments toward the old woman, Mrs. Kobayashi and Mrs. Rexford seemed to genuinely enjoy these visits. There was, after all, a certain kinship in the women’sextroverted personalities. With Mrs. Nishimura out of the picture, they could all relax and gossip under the guise of religious duty. In no time at all, they were shrieking with laughter.
    At one point the talk turned to Mr. Kobayashi. Mrs. Asaki took mischievous delight in exposing her little brother’s childhood trials.
    “Some older boys across the creek called him over to play,” she told them. “So he trudged over the bridge, and they boinked him on the head. He came running back, crying. But then they called out their apologies and invited him over again. ‘Kenji, don’t go!’ I told him. But no, he trudged over that bridge yet again—” The old woman did such a good imitation of a little boy’s