Nita opened the fridge and took out a few eggs. “This was your mother’s favorite too. She used to eat this when she was pregnant with you. That’s probably how you got a taste for it.”

Yvonne had vague memories of her mother cooking it, but since Yvonne was only three when her mother died, she didn’t know if those memories were even real.

Nita cracked the eggs in a bowl and began scrambling them. “She used to go into the kitchen and cook it at all hours. When she was too far along to be on her feet, I’d cook it for her. I was just one of the maids back then, but since I was the only one on staff who knew how to cook the food she liked, she took me on as her personal maid. That’s how I ended up as your nanny.”

Nita had told Yvonne this story at least a hundred times, but Yvonne liked hearing it, along with all Nita’s other stories of her mother. After her mother’s death, it had been like her father had wanted to forget about Yvonne’s mother entirely. When he’d remarried, he’d practically erased Yvonne’s mother from existence. He hadn’t cared about Yvonne keeping any connection to her mother or her culture.

It had been isolating for Yvonne, never having that part of herself acknowledged. If she hadn’t had Nita growing up, Yvonne would have been lost. Nita had been close to Yvonne’s mother, despite her status as ‘the help.’ On top of telling Yvonne stories of her mother, Nita had taught Yvonne to cook all her mother’s favorite Chinese dishes, and taught her to speak a little Mandarin. Nita had made sure Yvonne knew she had a place, both in the wider world and by her side.

Nita was her family.

Yvonne got up from the table. “Let me help you.”

Nita gave her a stern look. “You’re my guest. Sit back down.”

Yvonne sat. There was no point arguing with her.

Nita began chopping up the tomatoes into small wedges. “So, how’s your brother?”

“No idea,” Yvonne said. “It’s not like we have weekly phone calls.”

Nita shook her head. “You should make more of an effort. He’s family.”

Yvonne scoffed. “Nicholas certainly doesn’t consider me family.” Before Nita could argue, she changed the subject. “I have some news. Big news.”

Nita stopped chopping and looked at her. “What is it?”

Yvonne held up her left hand, brandishing her ring. “I got married.”

Nita broke out into a smile. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“I am, but I’m happy for you too. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Her name is Ruby,” Yvonne said. “She’s… a waitress.”

“Do you love her?”

Once again, Yvonne found that she couldn’t lie. Not to Nita. “It’s more of an arrangement.”

“That sounds more like the Yvonne I know.”

Surprisingly, Nita didn’t question Yvonne about the details of the arrangement, probably because she was used to Yvonne’s idiosyncratic behavior. Yvonne wasn’t complaining. She didn’t want to have to explain that Nita herself was one of the reasons she’d gotten married in the first place.