“Sometimes I lean place cards on them,” Mae says. “Mostly, they’re for decoration.”
“How sweet. They remind me of something my grandmother would have collected. She loved anything porcelain.”
“You should take them, then. The whole set. I think I have twelve.”
“What?” Vivi looks to Connie for help. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“They’re not valuable, if that’s what you’re thinking. And I almost never get to use them. It would make me so happy if someone did. Besides, it’s my way of thanking you for your help today.”
Kyung glances at Mae. “Help with what?”
Gillian clears her throat. “Vivi helped your mom with that inventory she’s been working on. They were at it all afternoon.” Something in her voice suggests that she doesn’t think much of her father’s new girlfriend, but no one else seems to notice. Her disapproval registers just below the surface, like a frequency only audible between husband and wife.
“I thought that list was just for the other house,” Kyung says.
“It’s important to have a record of things.” Mae leans toward Vivi again. “If there’s something else you saw today that you liked more, please—”
“The shells are perfect, really. Thank you so much.” She turns hers over, squinting to read the underside. “Lime … Lime-oh-jess? Huh.”
Kyung frowns at the badly mangled French. It’s Limoges, and it’s expensive—hardly the insignificant little trinket that Mae made it out to be. He sits back and examines Vivi, wondering if Gillian’s assessment of her is the same as his own. She’s a gold digger of some sort, accustomed to being taken care of, which would explain the perfect hair and tan and body. The nails and jewelry too. Connie isn’t a wealthy man, but he earns a good salary and has a house, a car, and a pension. Maybe that makes him wealthy to her.
“Kyung.” Connie snaps his fingers. “Earth to Kyung.”
He realizes he’s been staring at Vivi again because she turns away, flustered, straining to hear the conversation at the other end of the table.
“It has bug eyes,” Ethan whines, cocking his head at the lobster on his plate.
“Here.” Gillian picks up a silver cracker. “Let me get you some of the meat from the claw. That’s the best part.”
“You mean the hand?”
“It’s not a hand, honey. It’s a claw.”
“But I don’t want any.”
“Just try it. Your grandma worked hard to make this for you.”
“No.”
Kyung dislikes how everything has come to a standstill because of the boy. He never would have dared to act out in public as a child. “Don’t talk back to your mother,” he says. “Just eat your dinner like she asked.”
Ethan looks at Jin, who doesn’t respond, but something about this exchange bothers Kyung. What was his son hoping for when he turned his head? For his grandfather to overrule him?
“Eat your dinner,” Kyung repeats.
“But I don’t want any.”
“Eat—your—dinner.” The words come out slowly, but there’s no mistaking his menace as he brings his hand down on the table, causing everything—the china, the crystal, the silverware—to rattle. Gillian, Connie, and Jin are all quick to interject: “Take it easy.” “What are you doing?” “Stop.” The voice he hears last and loudest is his father’s, and this, he won’t abide.
“You don’t have the right to tell me to stop. You, of all people. Where do you think I learned this from?”
Vivi coughs into her napkin. “My goodness,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ve never tasted lobster this fresh before. I guess all those others I ate were frozen.”
Mae glares at Kyung as perfect circles of pink bloom on her cheeks. Then she turns back to her guests. “We get them right off the boat at the dock. I like how easy they are to prepare.… Would you like some more butter?”
“No,” Kyung shouts. Everyone at the table jumps, their shoulders stiff, their spines perfectly straight. He’s not about to let them sit there and act like this is a normal meal, a normal family, a normal life. “Stop with the fucking butter. We’re not going to do this anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Mae says, looking at Connie and Vivi. “My son—I think he’s had too much to drink tonight. It’s not like him—”
“No. No. No,” he repeats. “No more excuses for each other. No more pretending everything’s fine. No fucking more.”
Vivi narrows her eyes at Connie, mouthing the words, Should we go? Poor woman, Kyung thinks. Gold digger or not, he almost feels sorry for her, walking into this sideshow when all she wanted was a free weekend at the beach. He stands up, raising his glass to her as if to give a toast.