“It’s not costing us anything. Your auntie and uncle offered to pay. They miss you like crazy and are so excited to see you. You haven’t seen them since you were what, twelve? Thirteen?”

I mumble a “yes.” That’s the downside of having family all over the globe. Unless you’re made of money, regular visits are virtually impossible. It hasn’t dampened our relationship though. Mom and I Skype or FaceTime with them a couple times a month, and Mom’s been to London to visit them a few times in the last several years. It would be a dream to visit them. Just not now, not when we’re preparing for the festival and money is so tight.

She files the last dish into the rack and shuts the door of the dishwasher. When she looks at me, I try to focus on her face, try to decipher if this is an elaborate joke. But nothing. Her expression is oddly relaxed.

“You’re staying with them at their house, so you won’t even have to pay for a hotel,” she says.

Brushing past me, she heads down the hall to the bathroom. I tug her arm. “Mom, wait. Okay, fine, yes, a vacation would be nice, but I can’t just leave you alone to take care of the food truck. That’s too much stress. And we can’t afford to close for a week, either, while I’m gone. What about prepping for the festival?”

She does her signature brush-off motion with her hand, like none of these are valid concerns. “Mrs. Tokushige’s nephew just moved in with her, and he needs a temporary job. I talked to him the other night while we played mahjong, and he said he could help out at the food truck if we ever needed it. He used to work at a food truck in San Francisco, so he knows what he’s doing. The festival is more than a month away, and all the dishes we’ve been trying out with the customers have been a hit. So don’t worry.”

I open my mouth, but she shakes her head, her favorite way to cut me off.

“And don’t give me some lecture about how your dad would want me to take it easy. I’ll still take my normal day off. I promise.”

Just then Lemon rubs against my leg. “What about Lemon? She’s pregnant.”

Mom raises her eyebrow at me, a telltale sign that she’s unimpressed with my excuse. “All she’s been doing is eating and napping, and I don’t think that’s going to change for the week that you’re gone. She’ll be just fine.”

I stutter once more. She must have been planning this for weeks behind my back. I’m impressed, shocked, and a little unnerved at her ability to orchestrate such elaborate plans in secret.

“Um . . .”