She got out, and we walked around to the front of the shopping center, past a nail salon and dry cleaner, toward a set of windows with a life-sized Buddha sitting in front of a Chinese screen.
Her dark mood seemed to wash away when she saw it. “That’s a Thai Buddha.”
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“This is Bai Thong, isn’t it? This place is legendary. I heard their curry is like magma.”
“It is,” I said, holding the door open for her. The dining area was a small square room with a booth and a few tables. The place was intentionally small and private. The hostess walked around the booth when we walked in. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she showed us into their back room. It was nothing more than plain black walls and a booth with a cherry blossom branch sticking out of a white vase in the corner.
We made our orders right away. Thai shrimp curry, not too spicy. The waitress left us with a plate of spring rolls and water.
“How did you get a table at this place?” Mercedes asked. “I heard they rarely let people come in.”
“I own a stake in the company.”
“You do?” She took a sip of water.
“Yes, I do, and I just bought a chain of restaurants in Kyoto.”
“You must leave the country a lot.”
“I don’t like to,” I said and dipped a spring roll in peanut sauce. “I prefer to stay at home. I’ve been all over, except for Africa and some of Asia. It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. There’s nice places and not so nice places. People don’t vary as much as you’d think, just their living conditions.”
“You’re jaded.” She grabbed a spring roll and took a bite.
“I am. I’ll admit it.”
The waitress returned. “Here you are.” She set down two plates, bowls of steaming hot rice, and two bowls of rose-colored curry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I turned to Mercedes. She was spooning rice onto her plate already. “No, thank you,” she said.
I shook my head. “We’re good.”
The waitress nodded and left.
“I’m thinking of buying a curry chain,” I said. “Something nice and classy, but I haven’t found anyone to buy out yet.”
“You can just buy a company like that?”
“Not like that. I’d have to talk to the owner and get them to agree, but I’d give them a good deal. Most people are honored at the chance to sign a contract with me.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I make their dreams come true. I give them advertising, employees, new locations, everything they need, and I’m generous. If run right, restaurants take off. There’s a lot of money to be made.”
“You give people the chance you never had.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She took a sip of her drink. “It’s like you told me how you slept in the back of your ice cream parlor. You’re giving people like you the chance to make something of themselves without having to sacrifice everything.”
“I guess you’re right. I never thought about it like that.”
“You’re helping people. It’s admirable.” Mercedes spooned a drizzle of curry on her plate and took a bite.
The food was amazing, creamy, savory, and tangy, with a hint of spice. It was made fresh, with real ingredients, not the paste they sold in grocery stores like everywhere else. It was a difficult process, and they took their time perfecting it. With my help, they were able to maintain a small, high-profile client base and spend their time focusing on the food. That was how the owner wanted it, so we made it happen.
I leaned back when I finished. She took one last bite. “I can’t eat anymore,” she said. “That was too good.” She pushed the rest of her curry bowl away.