The restaurant was often featured in the local paper when large banquets were held, and Uncle Joe knew everyone in town. He and Auntie Joan knew the town’s happenings before anyone else, including gossip that was not supposed to be shared. I overheard Mother telling Auntie Miriam that Auntie Joan knew that Terry Miller’s wife was pregnant before Terry Miller knew. Terry was the chief operating officer at the mine. All the miners chipped in to buy a baby gift for the man who was considered the town’s boss, which is how he found out about his wife’s pregnancy.

Uncle Joe had closed the Oriental Palace to the public for Auntie Carrie’s red egg and ginger party. He rearranged the dining room, setting out big tables for the adults and small tables for the children. On the other side of the large room were a few mah-jong tables. Father noticed them and whispered, “Mah-jong! Swee Hua, this is more than just dinner.”

Mother slid away from Father to greet Auntie Choo Neo, Uncle Stephen, and all of the other aunties and uncles attending the event of the year. Mother’s eyes sparkled as she anticipated an evening of fun.

Father gave a soup pot to Uncle Ming and told him it was for Auntie Carrie. The warm, savoury aroma of ginger and chicken was inescapable.

The night before, Mother, Bea, and I had found Father in the kitchen—cooking. He’d noticed us staring at him from the doorway like he was a ghost. “Jiu gai!” Father had proclaimed. Mother had explained it was a traditional dish for new mothers, to help them heal from childbirth and provide vital nutrients to the baby through the breast milk.

Bowls of red-dyed eggs were placed in the centre of each table, along with the traditional dishes meant to share the good fortune of fertility: noodles for long life, fish for prosperity, and many desserts for a sweet life. Chopsticks were clicking and lips were smacking. There was boisterous laughter, and baby Billy was crying, ensuring the ghosts would stay away. Uncle Joe had his hands on his round belly like a smiling Buddha, relishing the joyful sounds reverberating in his restaurant.

All the guests came by to fawn over Auntie Carrie and hand her red packets filled with money. She thanked everyone and placed them in her clutch, clasping it shut tightly each time. Auntie Carrie celebrated the end of her confinement with great fanfare. She wore gold earrings, jade rings, and an extravagant floor-length cheongsam. Golden sequins sewn in the shape of a dragon slithered up the side of the red silk gown, and her mandarin collar was brought together by golden Chinese knots. The dress was very tight and fitted. She looked like a glamorous mermaid plucked from the sea.

Mother leaned into Auntie Choo Neo and said, “Choo Neo, Carrie’s father sent her this dress when she was going to marry Ming, but the shipping took too long and she never wore it. What better time than now?”