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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
  6. 3
  7. The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
  20. 13
  21. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. 42
  56. 43
  57. 44
  58. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
  59. 45
  60. 46
  61. 47
  62. 48
  63. 49
  64. 50
  65. 51
  66. 52
  67. 53
  68. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
  69. 54
  70. A Note from the Author
  71. Index of Flowers and their Meanings
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. Praise for This Time Will Be Different
  75. Books by Misa Sugiura
  76. Back Ad
  77. About the Publisher

I am not quite as excited. This is because “as we work” is taking place half-past butt thirty on Sunday morning. The sun hasn’t even come up yet, and I’m at Heart’s Desire, weaving the last of the garlands that will hang from the railings and banisters at the Los Altos Hills mansion where the Feda-Chan wedding and reception will be held late this afternoon. Hannah’s prepping the bouquets and boutonnieres for the wedding party.

Usually Hannah books only one wedding per weekend, but early in the scramble to prove Mom wrong about the money situation, she took on a few last-minute clients, which we’re committed to despite the fact that she seems to be depending entirely on the news article, rather than the extra business, to save us. This one is a shotgun wedding, which if you ask me, is just asking for trouble. It’s also asking for two early weekend mornings in a row—one for yesterday’s wedding, and one for today’s. I might be just the tiniest bit resentful of the whole situation, especially since Shane texted me last night that his mom asked him to drop by Sweet Emily’s this afternoon to pick up a cake and did I want to meet him there—but, of course, I will be draping flower garlands in Los Altos Hills by then. Owen’s just brought over coffee and fresh-baked scones from Sweet Emily’s, and if today’s early morning wakeup doesn’t kill me, the irony will.

Today, he’s wearing a T-shirt that reads:

If there’s anything that the lessons of history have taught us,

it’s that people haven’t learned the lessons of history.

Tell that to today’s couple. Most shotgun weddings end in divorce. But everyone thinks that history doesn’t apply to them, that they’re the ones who can buck the trend, that they’re special, somehow. So here we are.

At least Mom knew better than to get married.

As I wire one blowsy pink peony after another onto a central cord, I tell Owen what Mom said about herself and my dad.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Yeah, well you should be,” I reply. “I was perfectly happy before, and now I’m bummed that I’ll never know who he was.”

“Sorry,” he repeats. “But aren’t you glad that you know that now? Isn’t it better than living in ignorance?”

“No.”

He doesn’t reply, and I feel a little sorry for being so blunt, but not sorry enough to apologize because gahhh, Owen and his relentless optimism.

We’re close to being finished when Geoffrey and Keila Padilla, the photographer, arrive to interview Hannah. Keila takes a million pictures while Geoffrey guzzles coffee and takes notes as Hannah gives him the history of the store, tells stories about my grandparents, and explains what the store has meant to the community.