“Anyone can make a donut,” Mrs. Thamavuong said. “But we want to help them make a Starrgate donut.”

Lucy had received advanced certifications in woodwork, obsessively studied the history of luthierie, and had even put herself through upper-division physics and materials science while at Cal State. But schooling was one thing. Legacy was another.

Lucy recalled that hipster Latin-Fusion bistro that had started a couple of years ago up the street, with a chef from Denver touting his authentic Oaxacan ingredients and selection of upscale single-barrel tequilas.

She was sure he had done his research. And one can’t ruin tequila. But the fact was that his burritos weren’t as good as the ones from the place around the corner, and the place around the corner was cheaper, and sometimes you just wanted a beer.

Needless to say, the bistro wasn’t there anymore.

Legacy. It mattered for burritos. For donut shops.

For violins.

Sure, she could fix a violin. But though Lucy was of the same family, of the same blood—she was never trained in the secret ingredients and techniques that made the Matías the Matías. For those were only passed from grandfather to father, father to son, at night. When the stars came out, the workshop doors were closed, and pretty girls like her could only sit outside, close their eyes, and try with all their might to hear.

Beep!

A car horn shook Lucy from her thoughts. She looked up just as Shizuka’s vintage Jaguar sped past her.

Lucy waved, but Shizuka was too busy giggling to notice.

The Queen of Hell was giggling? And, in her car was … the donut lady?

Legacy?

Despite herself, Lucy had to laugh.

13

“Watch out!”

“Watch where?”

Valley Boulevard was its usual turbulence of BMWs coming to full stops at green lights, Priuses slowing for no reason, and pickup trucks and Chevys trying to cut around all of it and get home to Duarte.

Shizuka tried to dodge the obstructions, but each time she changed lanes, she felt Lan’s fingernails dig more deeply into her arm.

“Careful!”

“Ow! Are you sure you’re an interstellar pilot?”

Somehow, they arrived at Kim Ky. Kim Ky was a noodle house run by Chinese Vietnamese. After the Vietnam War, many ethnic Chinese left Vietnam and settled in San Gabriel. They set up supermarkets, like Ai Hoa and Diho. And they also opened some very good noodle places.

“This is one of my Aunty Floresta’s favorite places,” Lan said.

“So Floresta is actually your aunt?”

“Yes.” Lan nodded. She rattled off the rest of her family. There were her twins, Windee and Edwin. Windee was a theoretical prodigy, and smart enough to know it. Their older brother, Markus, was unmatched in construction and engineering, though he did have a hard time making friends.

“And Shirley?”

“Oh. Shirley,” Lan said awkwardly. “Well, Shirley is a holographic projection. She’s what one might call cybernetic.”