Page 61 of A Serving of Hope

“I don’t think so. Like I said, I had some surgery done right after the divorce. My way of starting life over. So I look nothing like the mother Masaya remembers.”

“Oh. But…what if he just knew it was you on some instinctive level?”

Yuiko was so caught up in her recollection that she didn’t seem to hear this question. “The very first mouthful was enough to take me back to that meal at Candle.” She gazed up at the ceiling in wide-eyed wonder. “It was the exact same dish. Piping hot, creamy, and it smelled incredible.”

Koishi glanced up at her. “I don’t mean to spoil the story, but…isn’t macaroni gratin always like that?”

“Well, yes, but…it just tasted so familiar,” replied Yuiko without breaking out of her dreamy expression. “See, macaroni is tricky to get right. You don’t want it too firm, but it can’t be mushy either. But this was just perfect. It’s the same with the béchamel: If you’re not careful, it ends up all lumpy, which ruins the texture. This one was rich and velvety. People often cook macaroni gratin with shrimp, but at Tapestry it was with chicken—probably because Masaya has a shellfish allergy. We’d chosen the chicken option at Candle for the same reason. The most important part is the seasoning—and that was spot on too. Just the right amount of salt. All told, it was a perfect match for the dish at Candle.” Yuiko spoke breathlessly, illustrating her description with a series of lively gestures.

“Hang on, I’m struggling to keep up!” chuckled Koishi as she scribbled away. “Oh, and could you tell me your son’s full name?”

“Masaya Ogawa. Ogawa as in ‘small river.’ Masaya as in ‘elegance.’ So, do you think you’ll be able to recreate the dish?”

“This Tapestry place. You said it’s still in operation, right?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Then we can just go to Shizuoka and try the dish ourselves, can’t we? We won’t mention your name, of course. We’ll pretend to be a regular customer.”

“Well, yes. I suppose that’s the only way.”

“In that case, this shouldn’t be too tricky.”

Yuiko leaned back into the sofa in relief.

“But what made you want to eat it again now, all of a sudden?” asked Koishi.

“I’m not going to be around forever, you know. I want to see Masaya more and more with every passing day, but I’m not allowed. It’s a dilemma that torments me daily. This is my one way of being with him.”

“Right. Well, I’ll make sure Dad gets right on the case.”

—

As Koishi led them back to the restaurant, Yuiko glanced at the photos lining the hallway.

“If he can make all these different dishes, then I’m in safe hands,” she commented with a satisfied nod.

“Western food isn’t exactly his strong suit, but as long as he can sample the original, he should manage.”

Seeing them return, Nagare rose from his seat at the counter. “That go all right, then?”

“This one should be a breeze, Dad,” said Koishi, patting him on the back.

Nagare gave her a sharp look. “Something tells me you might regret saying that.” He turned to Yuiko. “We usually ask for two weeks. Will that work?”

“Yes, there’s no rush. Just let me know the date. My shifts can be a little unpredictable, mind, so I might have to come a day or two later.” Yuiko pulled on her jacket, slung her tote over her shoulder, and stepped out of the restaurant.

“Aren’t you chilly?” asked Koishi as they followed her out onto the blustery street.

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” Yuiko replied with a faint smile. “It’s hot weather I can’t stand.”

“Safe travels,” said Nagare. Yuiko bowed briefly in return, then set off down the street.

—

“It’s freezing today,” said Koishi, blowing into her hands as they returned inside.

Nagare unfolded his paper at the counter. “What’s she after, then?”