I shrugged. “I’ll ask, but she and Elena might have their hands full with the cafe’s soft opening, plus preparing the catering for all the pageant events.” Before they could ask more questions about Adeena or the cafe, I said, “Excuse me, I see my friend Yuki and her daughter. I should go say hi.”
I hurried over to Yuki Sato, who was arranging a tray of vegetable tempura on the table. Her daughter was pouring iced green tea into individual cups, but stopped when she saw me approaching, sloshing tea all over the table.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Ms. Macapagal!” She grabbed a bunch of paper towels and mopped up the mess, her eyes begging her mother to take over.
Yuki sighed but obliged. “Lila, this is my daughter, Naoko. The pageant has been all she’s talked about for the past month, so please watch over her.”
“Nice to properly meet you, Naoko,” I said. We’d met before, since I was a regular at Sushi-ya, the restaurant Yuki and her husband ran, but had never really talked. She was usually too busy helping her parents and I was too busy stuffing my face to make polite conversation. “I didn’t realize you were old enough to be in the pageant.”
Naoko’s eyes shone behind her giant red plastic-framed glasses. “I turned thirteen last month! Mommy thinks I’m too young, but Dad said it’s never too early to start saving for my future.” She ducked her head, her high, off-center ponytail (wait, were scrunchies back in fashion?) swinging in front of her face. “I don’t think I’ll win, but it’s good practice for next year. And the year after that. And the year after—”
“As you can see, Lila, my daughter is both diligent and practical.” Yuki’s tone was teasing, but she couldn’t hide the pride shining in her eyes. My heart twinged at that open affection. My mother had only looked at me like that if I won something so she could brag about me to Ninang June and her friends. “And considering she wants to go to art school, I’m happy to let her try for the scholarship, as long as she doesn’t let it interfere with other, more traditional scholarship opportunities. Like getting good grades,” she said pointedly.
Looking at Naoko, I wasn’t surprised that she was an artist. Her round, oversize glasses, which might look frumpy or geeky on someone with less style, framed her intense eyes. And unlike yours truly, she didn’t seem to shun bright colors. In fact, her clothes were a cacophony of colors: yellow overall dress on top of a red short-sleeved shirt, blue belt bag covered with pins slung across her chest, and glittery, rainbow-sequined sneakers that looked like she’d bedazzled them herself. An armful of beaded bracelets and beaded, fringe-like earrings topped off the ensemble.
“You have a very distinct sense of style, Naoko. I’m getting Claudia Kishi vibes. Did you make that jewelry yourself?”
“I did! I’m saving up to get a 3D printer so I can start designing more pieces and sell them on Etsy.” She lit up, pleased that I’d noticed. “You have a nice style, too. Just . . . dark. Jewel tones would go well with your tan skin too, but I don’t know if that’s you.”
I smiled at her. Finally, someone who understood. “I prefer playing with pattern and texture than color,” I said, gesturing to the starry knit black shawl I’d thrown on over my shimmery black wrap dress and peep-toe booties with star cutouts. I’d painted my nails a glittery black color to match. The only pops of color on me were my gold and jade necklace, plus my signature burgundy lip shade.
She nodded sagely. “Monochrome doesn’t have to be boring. Good for you.”
Fighting off laughter, Yuki said, “Sorry to interrupt fashion talk, but there are quite a few people waiting to chat with Lila.” She gestured toward Joy and Bernadette, who were standing with a pretty East Asian woman in her early thirties and her teenage daughter. As I walked over to join them, I heard Naoko ask her mom who Claudia Kishi was.
I laughed to myself as I greeted this new group. “Hey, everyone! Having a good time?”
“Hi, Ate Lila! This is my friend Katie Pang, and her mother, Winnie,” Joy said. “Katie’s the one who convinced me I should apply to the pageant. Well, her and Ate Bernie, of course.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Macapagal! Joy talks about your family all the time, saying how kind your aunt is and how good the food is. I keep trying to get Mom to take me there, but she’s busy, I guess.” Katie grinned at me, her open smile, light brown hair with blunt-cut bangs, and smattering of freckles across her prominent nose and round cheeks lending her a very cute girl-next-door vibe. Judging by her features, she was also mixed Asian, just like Joy, and the two made an adorable duo.
“We don’t eat out much. I work long hours at the salon and prefer to save money where I can. Restaurants are more of a special-occasion thing in our family. Plus, I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself.” Winnie smiled, gesturing to the platter of jiaozi she’d brought. Her black hair and dark brown eyes contrasted with her daughter’s much lighter coloring, but they had the same sweet smile.
“What salon do you work at? I’ve been meaning to do something with my hair.” I loved my shiny black hair and had always worn it long and straightened, but months of neglect left me with split ends and a sense of blah that was new to me. Maybe it was time for a change. Or at least a trim. No need for anything drastic.
“I’m the owner and main stylist at the Honeybee Salon, but I also do lashes and makeup.” Winnie circled me, eyeing my hair. “Your hair is gorgeous but could use a little . . . refreshing. I’d love to get my hands on it.”
“Good luck with that. Lila’s kept her hair exactly the same since she was five. Tita Cecilia insisted on the two of them getting matching haircuts every year.” Bernadette’s smirk was replaced by a look of horror when she realized why I hadn’t changed my hairstyle in over twenty years. “Oh, sh—sorry.”
Katie, completely oblivious to what was going on, asked, “Who’s Tita Cecilia?” stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of “Tita.”
“‘Tita’ means ‘aunt’ in our language,” I explained. “She’s referring to my mom. She passed away when I was eight.”
Katie’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Ate.” Joy put her hand on my arm, the concern in her eyes sweet but discomfiting.
I forced a smile. “It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it.”
Bernadette said, “Tita Cecilia loved beauty pageants. I’m sure she’s so proud that Lila won and is a judge now. She always said the point of being a beauty queen is giving back to the community.”