But only if she didn’t find her dad. With his mom wanting an answer by this Saturday, however, Esme was running out of time.
That decided it. If Esme didn’t locate her dad this week, Khai was propo
sing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Early Saturday evening, Esme was pulling her black dress over her head when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She yanked the dress all the way down and leapt to pick up her phone.
Unknown caller.
She hit the talk button. “Hello?”
“Uh, hi, this is Phil Turner. I got your message?” a man said. “What is this about?”
She took a deep breath so her nerves had time to settle and repeated lines that had become familiar over the past week as she’d gone through her list of Phils one by one. “Hi, my name is Esmeralda. Have you been to Vi?t Nam?”
“Yeah, sure I have. If this is a free vacation or something, I’m not—”
“I am looking for someone who was there twenty-four years ago,” she said.
“Oh. Yeah . . .” There was a long, drawn-out whistling sound like he was searching his memory. “No. My first time was Hanoi in early 2000.”
She sighed as disappointment weighed on her. That meant there was only one Phil left, and there was no guarantee he was the One True Phil. If he hadn’t been to Vi?t Nam either, that left her back where she’d begun.
“You are not the right person,” she said. “Thank you for calling back.”
“Sure, no problem. Good luck. I hope you find him. Bye.”
He hung up, and Esme carefully set her phone down on the desk. The last Phil on the list was a Schumacher, or Shoo-mock-er, as Kh?i pronounced it. She tried the surname on—Esmeralda Schumacher—and frowned. That would take some getting used to, though she liked the meaning, shoemaker. There were a lot of feet in this world.
That reminded her she needed to wear torture heels all night again. She stepped into the offending shoes, picked up a handful of cheap jewelry, and gazed at herself in the floor-length mirror inside the bathroom. She held the sparkly necklace up to her throat but decided against it and put it down. Once she’d finished putting on the earrings, a bracelet, and makeup, a new woman stared back at her from the mirror.
She’d gotten it right this time. She looked classy like Kh?i’s sister, and it gave her a much-needed boost of confidence.
Tonight was the night. She was going to tell him about Jade, and if he didn’t seem completely overwhelmed, she was going to propose.
Just the thought of it made her hands tremble, and she rushed to the sink in case she vomited. As she was breathing away her nausea, Kh?i stepped into the bathroom, looking like a secret service bodyguard in his black tuxedo.
“I can’t stand these things.” He twisted the ends of the bow tie around, looped them, and dropped his hands in exasperation.
“I know how.” Glad for the distraction, she undid the mess he’d made and calmly tied his bow tie for him. “All done.”
“Thank you,” he said as he shook out his arms and took a breath like he was preparing himself for battle.
She smiled and smoothed her hands down his lapels, pleased by how he looked in the well-fitted suit. “You’re wel— It’s not here.” She pressed her palms to the area where she thought his inner coat pockets were.
His forehead wrinkled. “What isn’t?”
“The book you always bring.”
He searched her face. “Are you telling me to bring one?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Well, if you want.” She shrugged. She’d much rather he talk to her, especially tonight when she was so nervous, but if he truly hated weddings that much, she didn’t want to torture him.
He smiled. “Come on, then. It’s an hour to Santa Cruz, and I don’t want to be late.”
She followed him out of the house and down the driveway to the curb, where he parked his car. Instead of getting in right away, Kh?i scowled at the white splats decorating the roof and windshield.