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“Nice tie.” I flick the tip of it up. He dips down and places a kiss on the side of my mouth.
“Thank you. Someone lovely gave it to me.”
“She has great taste.”
“Yes.” His left dimple makes an appearance. “Very good taste. Now, for your friend, I found her. She’s at the hospital and has pneumonia.”
My hand drops away from his tie. “Oh my God.”
“She’s okay. I talked to her son. He was confused as to why a stranger was calling. I explained it was his mother’s helper, to which he replied he was unaware his mother had an employee.” Yujun rubs a hand down the back of my head and I know what he’s going to say before he even finishes the rest of the conversation.
“I’m fired, aren’t I?” I joke.
“Not exactly, although the son wasn’t happy about the possible tax implications of hiring a foreign worker without a proper visa.”
I guess it was one thing to work for my mother and another to work for a stranger.
“If it makes you feel better, the sons do not want her to continue to work. They believe it is bad for her health, so I don’t think you’re fired but rather the company has gone out of business.”
He presses another kiss to the top of my crown and ushers me into the car. We drive over to the hospital. The eldest son is there, and he is, as Yujun warned, on the chilly side. After some Korean conversation, none of which I understand, the son steps aside and allows me into the hospital room.
Yang Ilwha struggles to sit up.
“No. Please stay, Seonsaeng-nim!” I rush over to the bed. “I didn’t realize you were so ill. I could’ve run the food truck for you again.”
“Aigoo, always so polite.” She pats my cheek and then peers over my shoulder. “Who is with you?”
Yujun steps forward and dips his head. “Choi Yujun. I am Hara’s boyfriend.”
“So nice-looking. What do you do?” She runs her eyes over him, cataloging how much his clothes cost.
“He’s rich, Seonsaeng-nim,” I assure her.
Yujun smothers a laugh, but it was the right thing to say. Yang settles back onto her pillows. “I did not ask for help because I’m selling the food truck. It is too much for me and my sons want me to quit.”
I rub my lips together as the idea that sparked in my head a few days ago starts to burn a little brighter. “What will you do with your truck?”
“Sell. Food trucks very popular these days.”
“Do you have a buyer in mind?”
“No. I will put with a broker. Maybe lose some money but”—she shrugs—“will be easy—easier.”
Yujun’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and I know he thinks this is the wrong time to broach the subject, and he probably wasn’t aware until right this moment that I had thoughts in this direction.
“Seonsaeng-nim, this is not the right time for me to ask you, but would you call or text me before you list the truck with the broker?”
She tilts her head up to stare at Yujun again. “He’s rich, did you say?”
I nod.
“Then I will call you after I am out and we can meet. I know you kids like coffee these days. We will have a coffee and talk about the truck. In the meantime, you go to Majang Meat Market and buy meat. Cook at home and bring me something. I will see your seriousness.”
Yujun waits until we are in his car before asking, “Are we buying a food truck?”
“Maybe? Do we have enough money for that?”
“We do. May I ask why we are buying it since both of us work at IF Group?”
“Right.” I rub my nose, then my forehead, until I blurt out, “I quit.”
There’s a long silence during which I presume Yujun sorts through a number of responses to arrive at, “I’m glad I didn’t put the car in gear.”
“Yes. It’s good you aren’t driving.” I peek through my hands to see how upset he is, but the only emotion I can see on his face is confusion.
“Is it the people you work with or the work itself?”
“It’s all of it.” I give him a very brief summary of yesterday’s events, the clues, and how the day ended with me getting sent off to the wrong address for the hweshik. “It could have been a mistake, but I don’t want to go back there. It’s not good for my mental health.” I smile sadly. “I don’t know how to run a food truck, but Yang Ilwha does. She can teach me about the business. I can spend the winter preparing dishes, researching, running the numbers. It’s a lot to ask from you, to buy the food truck for me, but I’ll pay you back. I have some savings . . .” I trail off, realizing that my savings is likely Wansu’s money funneled through Ellen.
