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“Great.”
We trudge a few paces away from the guy and go into a huddle. “They not know Jake is, you know—” Big Aunt mimes a cutting motion across her neck.
“Big Aunt!” I hiss. “Be more subtle, please.” Just to play it safe, I switch to Indonesian. “Okay,” I say. “Kami perlu uh... mikir... a plan.” Wow, my Indonesian sucks. I try switching to Mandarin. “Wo men xu yao um... xiang... a plan.”
Ma sighs. “I spend so much money on Chinese class for you, all wasted.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “Um, so, a plan?”
“Aiya, so simple,” Second Aunt says in Mandarin. “As soon as we get there, we’ll find the cooler and one of us can take it back here. See? Easy.”
“Easy,” Big Aunt sniffs, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
“Why not?” Second Aunt says, raising her chin.
Big Aunt shrugs. “Because it’s never easy. Otherwise people would get away with murder all the time.”
I wince at the word “murder,” even though she said it in Mandarin. And even though I want to have faith in Second Aunt’s simple plan of “get there, find cooler, bring cooler back,” I have a feeling that Big Aunt is right. When it comes to hiding a dead body, it’s never simple—a lesson I’m quickly learning from the previous night.
We gather our stuff from the back of the car and wait for the yacht to arrive. When it does, we sit in silence as the boat roars back to life and heads off from the mainland. Fourth Aunt, being the entertainment, won’t be due at the island until this evening, so Big Aunt tells me to update her through our family WhatsApp.Of course, I can’t say anything incriminating over WhatsApp, so I type out a cryptic:
Hi, Fourth Aunt, there’s been a bit of a hiccup. We’re headed to the island early. Call me when you get this.
Ma, reading over my shoulder, gives a loud sigh. “She won’t see until she wake up after noon, that lazy bum.” Fourth Aunt is the one who gets to sleep in during wedding season and the one who gets the most recognition for her work, and Ma won’t ever forgive her for it, even though it’s technically not Fourth Aunt’s fault. Fourth Aunt loooves rubbing that in Ma’s face. I guess their beef is like Big Aunt versus Second Aunt, going back decades, far older than me and my cousins.
It’s a typical SoCal spring day, sunny and sweltering, wisps of white clouds in the deep blue sky. I stare out at the vast ocean, at the distant strip of land that I can hardly believe is the mainland. From this distance, it looks so small. For a moment, I almost feel better, escaping from everything that’s happened back home, but when the island of Santa Lucia comes within sight, reality crashes back in. I’m not leaving my troubles behind. They’re right here, awaiting me. And for all I know, maybe Xiaoling, well-trained helper that she is, would unpack everything. The thought of her doing that is so vivid. I can practically see her doing it, humming as she opens up the cooler. She’ll bend down, remove all the packets of sugar and bric-a-brac we piled on top of the blankets, until she reaches the blankets. Maybe she’ll stop with a confused frown—why would there be a blanket here—and then she’ll pull the blanket up, and—
A loud horn bellows, and I jump up as though I’ve been electrocuted. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Santa Lucia. We hope you enjoy your stay with us at the Ayana Lucia.”
Gathering my heavy camera bag, I help Ma and the aunties to their feet. They’re all a bit wobbly on the yacht, and cling to my arms as we make our way off the boat. We stagger across the bridge. At the pier, we’re greeted by another hotel manager holding a tablet.
“The Chans, I gather?” he says, eyeing my camera bag.
“Yes.”
He gives my family a once-over, then points to Big Aunt. “Cake and pastries?” he says.
My heart bursts into a gallop. Oh god. This is it. He’s going to tell us that they’ve found the body, and then cops will jump out from behind those columns lining the pier, and then—
Big Aunt must be on the same train of thought as I am, because she’s frozen, a look of horrified uncertainty on her face.
“Hello, cake and pastries?” he repeats. He turns to me, wearing an expression that saysHelp me out here?
“Um, is there a problem with the cake and pastries?” I say.
He frowns. “No. Why would there be?” he says snidely.
We all visibly sag with relief. “Yeah, she’s the baker,” I say.
“Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he snorts, then hands Big Aunt an ID with her name and the word BAKER on it. “Wear this at all times.” He turns to Ma. “And who are you?”
“Flowers,” she says.
“Florist,” I add.
“Okay, here’s your ID, and you would be the hair and makeup?” he says, turning to Second Aunt, who nods quickly. He hands her an ID and then gives me the last one. I turn it over in my hand, marveling at how meticulously planned this wedding is. I don’t think I’ve ever done a wedding where we’ve had to wear ID cards on a lanyard before.
“I have question,” Second Aunt says.