Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (On a Dead Man) (Vera Wong, #2)

by Jesse Q. Sutanto

She only likes acting like a helpless little old lady; she doesn’t actually like being one, for goodness’ sake.

what could be better than picking up the phone and telling off a few scammers? Oho, she’ll give them a piece of her mind. First, she will tell them that their ancestors are very disappointed in them. Then she will launch into a tirade about young people nowadays. Finally, she will ask if they have eaten, and if not, she will impart some recipe and tell them to go cook themselves a nice meal and ponder their life choices. This is her chance to make a real difference in the world.

I am Chinese mother, all I do is create conflict. You think CIA know anything about destabilizing? They know nothing compare to me!”

Robin smiles. “Okay. Well. That was pretty freaking badass, Grandma.” “Yes, my ass is quite bad.”

She leans back, satisfied. Is there anything quite as invigorating as threatening people? When Vera was young, she used to read women’s magazines, all of which swore up and down that there is nothing more invigorating than exercise and/or sexual activity. But they really missed out on storming into someone else’s space and brandishing a good, solid threat in their faces. Vera makes a mental note to write a letter to the editors of women’s magazines, telling them to suggest making threats as a good pastime for young women.

Sometimes, looking like you know things is more important than actually knowing things.

The thing with being fine, though, is that when things change bit by bit, when life slides lemons to you in tiny little slices—like your mahjong buddies getting older and sicker one by one, so the mahjong sessions go from twice a week to once a week, then to every other week—it happens so slowly, so gently, that you don’t realize it’s happening until one day, there’s no one left to play mahjong with. But because of the slowness of the deterioration, you don’t realize that you’re no longer fine. You continue thinking, I’m fine, and you keep chugging along even though the small speck of sadness in your heart has grown quietly into a boulder, without you even noticing. When your kids call, you tell them you’re fine, and because they’re busy and have a million things to do and you’re just one of many things on their list they have to check off, they believe you.