Andrew sputtered, probably because he wasn’t used to a blunder like this in his well-researched world. “I promise that’s not why they gifted these. They always send pears to their closest and most cherished friends. These are imported; they’re quite pricey. I swear these are given to you with respect. And appreciation for you hosting me.”

My father stood. “It’s hard to believe they wouldn’t know the meaning of this, given their background.” He eyed the pears one last time. “And don’t split one between you two—you’d be dooming your relationship here and now. Fēnlí: ‘separate,’ or ‘split a pear,’ ” he explained.

“Or maybe you should split one,” my mother spat.

They both left the table. It was silent between me and Andrew as they trudged up the stairs, then slammed the bedroom door.

Goddamn it. I couldn’t look at Andrew or the pears.

Drew CHAPTER 27 O CHRISTMAS TREE

As soon as her parents had shut the bedroom door, Jing-Jing said, “Why’d you have to get them the freaking pears?” She was pretending to joke but I could tell she was part serious.

With a forced laugh I said, “That wasn’t on purpose.” Obviously. Though I was really frigging embarrassed about the mistake. Rent for Your ’Rents did a shit ton of research, but there were so many nuances in each diaspora family’s interpretation of culture that these kerfuffles did happen every so often. “Maybe you helped a future client whose parents are also superstitious about pears?” I offered, knowing that would ease some of her frustration.

“That helps.” She rubbed her temples. “I guess it’s just as much my fault too. I’ve never heard my parents talk about pears before, but now I’m realizing that I’ve never seen them share one—though before I would’ve just assumed they each wanted their own.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” I said. Her comment was in character for her (Eliza Schuyler), but I still wasn’t used to how quick she was to blame herself. “It was pears, not a sack of dog poo. Or a stack of Harry Potter books.”

That got her to laugh. She’d told me on her application that because the Kuos had declared Harry Potter evil (witchcraft, ahh!), everyone in their community was banned from owning or reading them. Jing-Jing had anyway, borrowing from the library and reading under the covers while sweating through her pajamas worrying she’d be caught. (And I found that detail and the fact that she’d mentioned it not adorable at all.)

But her laugh was short-lived, and she returned to rubbing her temples. (Did she need some ibuprofen?) Then, suddenly, she dropped her hands and looked at me so sternly my shoulders hunched. “You need to pull yourself together, refocus on the job—it’s like you’ve forgotten why you’re here.”