Aunt Coi arranged a low table just inside the shopfront. “Slackers aren’t earners,” she said when Tuyet complained that the weather was too foul for business. Coi was forty-six years old, Tuyet twenty-eight. Coi was a diminutive woman with half-moon eyes. She had glossy black teeth, dyed for fashion as a teenager. Since Tuyet’s mother had passed away fifteen years earlier, Coi had been Tuyet’s mother, best friend, and confidante.
