“I hope you can be happy for us,” she said. Her normally smooth forehead was creased by a few worry lines.

“Congratulations,” I said, but I couldn’t make it sound genuine. I barely knew him. Most of my mother’s previous boyfriends had tried to ingratiate themselves with me, but Andrew hadn’t. I considered that a mark in his favor.

She twisted the diamond ring back and forth, making it glint in the light. “He’s a good man,” she said a bit defensively. “I haven’t been with a man who understands me so well since I was married to your father. I never thought I’d find that again. I want you to know that.”

A hot lump lodged in my throat. I had never heard her speak of my dad like that.

At that moment the waiter appeared, and my mother began to speak to him in Chinese. I heard her mention some of the dim sum items I liked, but I didn’t understand the rest. Then she looked at me and asked in English, “Do you want anything to drink? Water?”

“Diet Coke?” I said, and the waiter nodded curtly before taking the menu and dim sum card away.

Mom took a sip of her tea and said, “Now, where were we?”

“Your engagement,” I said. The word sounded foreign to me.

She unfolded her napkin and spread it on her lap. “Yes. I think we’re going to have a winter wedding. We stayed in such a wonderful hotel in the Swiss Alps last January that we’re thinking of going back. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“That sounds nice,” I said, but my stomach twisted.

“We’re just going to have a small wedding. Close friends and family. Neither of us is young anymore.” My mother laughed as if she were making a joke. “Andrew and I would love for you to be in the wedding. Will you?”

The worry in her eyes couldn’t be acting, could it? Even if it was, how could I say no?

“Sure,” I said, and her eyes actually gleamed as if tears had risen in them. I looked down quickly and unfolded my napkin across my lap. I felt as if I were betraying my father.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me—and to Andrew. I want you to get to know him. He’s a good man and he’s very successful, and that gives me some freedom now to only take on the roles that I want.”

I’d heard my mother talk about this before. Sometimes she had to take roles she wasn’t entirely in love with because she needed the income. She was certainly a success—no one in the opera world would deny that—but opera wasn’t Broadway or Hollywood, and my mother had a lifestyle she wanted to maintain.