Page 68 of Heir to a Curse

Addy stood by, checking the same list Mr. Yamamoto was checking. If an item wasn’t on the list, it wasn’t leaving. Everything had a value, insurance identification, and placement. My head might not have been clear enough to handle it, but theirs were in the game.

“Can we contact Madison?” I asked them. “Have her family come up and fill the house back up? Beds, tables, paintings, whatever?”

“It won’t match the decorating,” Addy said. “Their stuff is very Asian or Indian. This was all very European.”

I nodded. The house felt like something out of an old English movie. “Can we make it work. Comfortable? Without changing everything right away?” The house was covered in wallpaper. I planned to change it, modernize it room by room like the kitchen had been.

“I can make it work,” Addy promised. “Are you okay with a change that big?” I knew what she was asking. Sofia had created a lot of the style choices more than forty years ago. Was I okay with changing what she had done?

“She wanted me to break the curse. I think part of that is to stop living in the past.” There would be two rooms almost entirely emptied of stuff. “We’ll start with the two that are bare. Strip out the paper, change some of the fixtures, paint the walls, but simple, comfortable furniture pieces. The house is luxury, yes, but does it have to feel so over the top? Like a movie set. Can it feel like a home instead?”

Addy took notes. “Do you care about the colors for the walls? Fixtures?”

“No. I’ll start stripping out the wallpaper as soon as the movers are gone. I can handle the painting and fixtures myself. Just get me supplies.”

She nodded.

“You’re okay with changes?” I asked Mr. Yamamoto.

“Of course. I’d love to see some updates to the study, the pink paisleys on the wall have always been a bit… distracting.”

I grinned beneath my mask, planning to give him control of the decorating of the study and probably Sofia’s office. “All yours. Can we put some of the more traditional items on display down here? Like her dress? And that collection of fans I know she had packed away?” They’d been old hand embroidered silk fans, that while worth a reasonable amount of money now, were very much Sofia’s pride collection. She didn’t collect dolls, plates, or teacups, she collected hand fans. Thankfully Zhao had not asked for them.

“You have thoughts for what you’d like the house to be?” Mr. Yamamoto asked.

“I was thinking some traditional culture things, history, and learning. Perhaps we could find some teachers. Instructors ofHanfudress or even old school woodworking. I’d love to learn how some of the traditional furniture pieces were put together. I don’t know what kind of market there is for a retreat based on a theme of learning tradition, but I think it will help keep the family history in place. Tea ceremonies, and perhaps showing the shrine some respect.” I hoped to keep the tie in place for as long as I could between Xiang’s exile and the shrine. If that meant finding folks to offer memories and well wishes, so be it.

“Dude ranches are a thing for a reason. There are also retreats that explore Native American culture. Having one with aspects of Asian culture sounds interesting,” Addy said. “As long as we are treating it with respect rather than appropriating it.”

“That is my thought as well,” I said. “Actual Asian teachers.”

“Hanfuis very popular among the young Chinese these days,” Mr. Yamamoto added. “Perpetuated by movies, I’m sure. Madison would know more. She has hosted classes on dressmaking. She has family with other skills as well. Before the pandemic, there was a lot of interest in traditional items and classes. People came up from New York City to participate.”

I nodded. “Teachers from in the culture would be ideal. Madison if she’s willing, any of her family, or yours, Mr. Yamamoto. We don’t have to be exclusive to Chinese culture. I don’t think most Americans understand much of Asian culture at all. Japan, China, Korea, India, all of it has amazing history that we miss out on here in America. I can’t afford to travel the world. Most people can’t. But I grew up with Sofia sharing small things, and it’s so much bigger than I ever imagined.” I liked the idea of creating a quiet place people could come to learn. Of course I had a lot of ideas, and would need to learn a bit myself before I could really make it all happen, but we had time for that. “There are a lot of xenophobic people out there. I think because they don’t understand and fear what they don’t understand. Perhaps I can chisel away at a little bit of it?”

Mr. Yamamoto nodded. “It sounds like a grand idea. Though you might be drawing more young Asians in to explore their own culture before any outside of it might think to join.”

I shrugged, that was fine. Plenty of people here in America had ancestors from elsewhere and knew so little about them. Not everyone cared to learn about the past. But I preferred to live, learn, and not repeat mistakes I’d already made.

Zhao waved me down, and I headed his way. “The last of the items are about to be loaded. Shall we head out to the shrine?” He asked.

“Yes. Let me just gather the house staff.” My plan was to include those who’d been at the house, and Sofia had considered family, covering all my bases. Zhao did not protest as everyone marched out to the shrine.

I’d made repairs to the shed, and righted the garden, though it was still void of plants. The area around the shrine I’d added a blanket of fresh dirt and wildflower seeds that hadn’t yet begun to grow. The white rabbit hadn’t returned. I wondered if it was Xiang in some form, or a sign of him watching perhaps, but had no way to determine if it was true unless I got him back.

My heart flip-flopped at the idea he might never come back. I swallowed back bile and tried to focus on the task at hand.

The inside of the shrine was immaculate. I’d been keeping it clean and adding flowers daily, hoping to keep the link open as long as I could, despite not having a blood bond to the curse.

A gust of wind whipped around us as Zhao entered the shrine. He paused, looking around. I said nothing. Whether he believed in the curse or not, he and his family were tied to this place.

He approached Sofia’s urn and nodded, bowing to it briefly before lighting a stick of incense. “I think she would approve,” he told me. “She was never fond of holding grudges.”

“She wasn’t,” I agreed. “She is probably thrilled to have family visiting her.”

“But you come here every day, do you not?” He asked.

Was he finally acknowledging me as family? “Yes.”