Page 1 of The Manor of Dreams

part one: root?

one

AUGUST 2024

DAY 1 IN THE HOUSE

NORADeng was informed of two rules before the reading of the will.

The first was not to speak to the Yin family without a lawyer present.

The second was to never go into the garden behind the Yin family house.

Nora didn’t argue when her mother told her these rules. She didn’t say much on the hour-and-a-half drive from their home in San Bernardino out west to Vivian Yin’s estate. She’d already exhausted her questions days ago, when Ma shared over dinner that a former actress named Vivian Yin had died, and that their family was included in the will. It was the first time Nora had ever heard Vivian Yin’s name. A quick search on her phone at the dinner table revealed that she was a Chinese American actress who was known for her movies in the eighties. She’d even won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, in a movie calledFortune’s Eye.

Nora was surprised. How in her twenty-one years had she never heard of this person? There were a few scattered tributes to Vivian Yin on the internet. A briefLA Timessection on her. Nothing more.

Nora also had no idea why they were included in the will. When she’d asked, her mother had given her a long, hard look. The kitchen light shone harshly over Ma’s head, seeping into the lines around her eyes and reflecting off her silvery strands of hair. In Mandarin, she said, “I don’t know.”

“Is there some family connection? Are we a long-lost relative?” Norahad seen that in the movies; people plucked from suburban anonymity to discover that they were heirs to royalty. That would be nice.

“No,” Ma said sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“So we don’t know them and they don’t know us?”

Her mother paused. “My parents knew her.”

“Then… we’re family friends?”

Ma’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Will you help me clear the dishes?”

That Saturday they took the exit off the I-210 in the direction of the forest. The San Gabriel Mountains loomed in the distance. Nora glanced out at the low, misty morning clouds. Today was unusually overcast for August.

The house was in Altadena and rose up out of the hills. Ma turned onto a lone road that ended at rusted gates. She didn’t pull into the elongated driveway. Rather, she idled to a stop beside the curb. “Remember,” she said. “Don’t wander by yourself. Don’t go into that garden behind the house. Okay?”

This house was large; Nora hadn’t realized that until they got out of the car. There was a strange, dismal beauty to this place. It looked abandoned, almost sunken in shrubbery. The front yard was overgrown, the grass yellowing. Shriveled, emaciated vines crawled up the pale stone walls. But it still possessed a gentle grandeur that drew Nora’s attention, with its symmetrical sloping roofs, the balconies framing tall, arched windows crowned by florid embellishments, and the elegant curve of the front door that stood behind two columns.

As they walked up to the front door, Nora saw a minivan parked to their left in the circular courtyard and driveway in front of the house.

“Nora,” her mother said. “Promise.”

Nora glanced over. She tucked her short hair behind her ears and tugged up her jeans. Ma’s gaze unnerved her just a bit. “Okay.”

The cavernous doors opened.

MADELINEWang sat at her grandmother’s dining room table the day after her funeral and looked at the person sitting across from her, who happened to stare right back. This person—Nora Deng, she’dintroduced herself as—looked to be around Madeline’s age, right out of college or maybe still in it. Cropped hair fell around her sharp jawline. Her fingers toyed with a loose thread on her sleeve. Slightly to Nora’s right was a middle-aged woman wearing an ill-fitting red sweater, whom Madeline assumed was her mother, Elaine Deng.

Soshewas the person Ma was talking about on their way here. The one person outside the family who made it into the will.

Madeline felt small in here. The ceiling stretched over them. Spare, listless light filtered through the drawn curtains, revealing the thick layer of dust on the long mahogany table. The house had this persistent and unpleasant sour smell of mildew and damp wood, and the chairs groaned every time someone shifted positions. Madeline silently urged the white man presiding at the head of the table to just read her grandmother’s will already and get it over with.

Her chair creaked loudly, and her mother shot her a look. Lucille Wang clasped her hands and looked ahead expectantly. She’d strategically taken a seat closest to the lawyer, her notepad in front of her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun. A half-inch or so of silver roots showed. She wore a navy blazer. Madeline knew this was her war suit. Ma was a lawyer too, and in this moment she was making sure everyone knew it. Madeline’s yí ma, Aunt Rennie, on the other hand, leaned away from the table and looked like she wanted to disappear. She wore an oversized shawl-like cardigan. Her dark brown hair was starting to slip out of its clip.

The lawyer cleared his throat. Madeline was sitting close enough that she could see the name on his binder.Reid Lyman.“Are we all settled?”

Madeline nodded with everyone.

“We are gathered here to hear the last will and testament of Vivian Yin.” He had a deep voice. “I have been named the executor of the will. Thank you to all parties for being present for the reading upon her request.”

---