The Yuchae Blossom Page 2

  Jack glanced at Missy. She smiled, her eyes blank. She had no idea. “Of course, Executive Director.”

  “Now, let us discuss plans for the annex property at the Mount Hallasan site.”

  The meeting lasted until 5:00 p.m., and long before that, Jack was ready to throw himself through a window.

  They were back in the car by 8:30 p.m. and headed to the airport.

  Jack was rubbing his neck. Missy sighed, took her heels off, and opened the window, preparing to throw them out.

  He looked at her, not saying anything.

  She closed the window and tossed them on the floor. “My feet are killing me, and that’s the last time I’m wearing those damn fucking things. Sorry. Consider me off the clock.” She dug in her bag, produced a pair of comfortable-looking flats, and slipped them on.

  Smiling. He was really beginning to like her.

  The flight to Jeju International Airport was mercifully short. They were at baggage claim by 11:20 p.m., and the driver was waiting for them with a cart to collect their bags—the hotel had sent them along to the airport in Seoul prior to his flight. He was holding a sign with Jack’s correct name on it and bowed low as they approached. Missy spoke to him in Korean, and he answered in English. As he took their bags, his hair, thick and dark, swept across his eyes, and as he brushed it back, his eyes met Jack’s, a very shy smile gracing his features. Jack nodded, returning the smile, and then he was moving on ahead of them toward the terminal exit. Jack stared after him as he disappeared through the doors and other passengers fell into view.

  “Jack…? Jack…?” Missy was lightly holding his elbow.

  He turned to her. She looked at him questioningly.

  He sighed. “Tired. Just want a shower and bed.”

  “Well, you’re not going to get either standing here.” She nodded toward the exit.

  He yawned, and together they followed the driver, who was now waiting just outside the door.

  There wasn’t much to see on the way to the house, so he dozed a little.

  “Jack…. Jack…. Jaaack….”

  Someone was patting his arm. Nannie. “I’m awake, honey.”

  Soft laughter.

  He opened his eyes, and Missy was smiling at him.

  “So, when not in the presence of ‘the company,’ we’re going for extremely casual?”

  “Oh. Sorry. I was just—”

  “Dreaming. I figured.” She nodded through the open car door. “Home. Well, home this side of the Pacific.”

  He climbed out of the car, and she followed, the driver helping her.

  “Oh, this is Song Woo-bin. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you at the airport. He’s your driver slash… um… valet.”

  Song Woo-bin bowed.

  “Valet?”

  “Custom here. The company supplies you with a cook slash housekeeper and—”

  “A driver slash valet.” Jack looked at the younger man. He figured he was probably in his early twenties. His hair was neatly cut, but full. And he was tall. At least five feet, eleven inches. He was avoiding making eye contact this time. Also customary. Jack was his employer and a superior. “Nice to meet you, Song Woo-bin.” Jack extended his hand. “Division Manager Jackson Calloway.”

  Song Woo-bin shook his hand and then bowed again. As he rose slowly, his hair swept across his forehead again, fluttering in the slight breeze that smelled like ocean, like home. Their eyes met again for the briefest moment, lingered, and then Song Woo-bin averted his eyes, looking down. Jack thought of Nannie again and Luke. Of their house near the shore in Marin County, and he felt an intense longing for them, for his life, once complete.

  “Ahem.”

  Jack looked at Missy.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You sort of… went away there for a minute.” She made a gesture with one hand like smoke in the wind.

  “I did? I did. Sorry. Was thinking of home.”

  “We should go in. Get you settled. You obviously need sleep.” She nodded slightly to Song Woo-bin. He nodded and waited as Missy and Jack headed into the house before closing the car door.

  From what Jack could see, the house looked large, in a sprawled fashion. Well sprawled was the wrong word. More like palatial.

  “How many rooms are there?”

  “Five bedrooms—two belong to Song Woo-bin and your cook slash housekeeper—six baths, a conference room, a media room, two dining rooms, four private gardens—three of which are off the master and two of the guest rooms—a putting green, a walk leading down to a private beach, exercise room with dry sauna or steam, one full kitchen and a service kitchen, and the two-car garage I assume you saw when we were in the drive.”

  Jack shook his head. “A service kitchen? Missy, I don’t need all this. First thing tomorrow I want you to find me something smaller. Much smaller. Like an apartment. And without live-in help. The cook can prepare meals for me and freeze them and come in once a week to clean. I most certainly don’t need a valet.”

  “Jack. This is South Korea, not Marin County or Sao Paulo. You’re expected by the corporate culture to live a certain way. You’re going to be visited at times by said corporate culture, and you can’t entertain in an apartment with you and your life all over the place. So, these are your new digs. Get comfy, and read the cultural docs… again. I think you missed a few things.”

  He glowered, sighing.

  The door opened, and Song Woo-bin came in with Jack’s luggage, colliding with a small woman coming from a hallway to his left, arms full of linens piled high. He lost his balance and fell at the same time, knocking what she was carrying to the floor. She stood there, hands fisted at her sides, looking like she was about to kill him.

  “Always moving like something burn your behind.”

  He scrambled to his feet and began picking up the spilled sheets, blankets, and towels. “Jwisonghabnida (sorry, respectfully).” It was said with quiet humility.

  “Aish (geez)!” She waved him off in frustration, gathering it all into a pile. “Tsk—tsk—tsk—tsk.”

  He looked pained and bowed several times as she went on, arms full, to wherever she was headed.

  Jack looked at Missy.

  “That”—she nodded her head toward the woman disappearing down the hallway—“is your housekeeper slash cook, Kim Choon-hee.”

  They both looked at Song Woo-bin.

  He had Jack’s bags in hand again. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was an accident.” Missy’s soft smile was reassuring.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Where’s my room?”

  “I should introduce you.”

  “I’ll introduce myself tomorrow. I really need to sleep.”

  “Song Woo-bin will show you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Not too early. I plan on having breakfast and a run and—wait, won’t you need Woo-bin to drive you home?”

  “It’s Song Woo-bin, and no. My place is one street over. You have a lunch meeting with Lee Yong-geun at one.”

  “Right… the nephew.”

  She was on her way to the door. “Sleep well.” She waved over her shoulder, nodding to Song Woo-bin as she left.

  Jack looked at Song Woo-bin. He looked away. “Do you mind if I call you Woo-bin?”

  “No, Seonsaengnim (director, respectfully). You may call me Woo-bin if you like.” He looked at Jack, their eyes meeting.

  “Okay, then, Woo-bin, which one’s mine?”

  He headed down the hall that Choon-hee had emerged from. Jack followed. Woo-bin stopped, opening the last door before the hall branched off to the left and held it open for Jack. As he passed Woo-bin, he caught the clean scent of soap and the faint hint of… cloves? The room was large, and one wall was floor-to-ceiling windows. The long blinds had been drawn.

  “It faces the sea.”

  Jack turned, and Woo-bin had placed his bags on two mahogany benches that stood against the wa
ll just outside an all-mahogany dressing room—two steps up from the main room—that led to the bath.

  “I’ll need the combinations.”

  He looked at him questioningly.

  “So I can unpack for you.”

  “I’ll take care of that in the morning, Woo-bin.”

  He looked down, standing there, hands clasped before him.

  “Really. I just need to sleep.”

  “Then I will unpack for you tomorrow.”

  “Woo-bin. It’s okay. I can unpack myself. Good night, and thank you.” He smiled and headed for the bathroom.

  Woo-bin sighed. “You could smell the ocean.”

  “What?” The water was running.

  “The ocean. Earlier in the drive. You could smell the ocean.”

  Jack came back, standing at the door to the dressing room. He looked at Woo-bin curiously. “Yes. It made me think of home. I live near the sea.”

  “It’s the first memory I have of when I returned here. The water.”

  “So you’re from Jeju?”

  “I am, but I was very young when my family left.”

  “Ah.”

  Their eyes met again.

  “Good night, Seonsaengnim.” And he was gone.

  Jack listened to the echo of his footsteps on the pristinely finished floor until he heard another door open and close somewhere else in Rancho del Chapel. As he went back to the bath, he thought of the day: his arrival, Missy the Godsend, and now this house, Woo-bin, and Choon-hee. He felt the strangest he’d ever felt away from home in all the years of traveling for Chapel, but decided not to give it much thought and finished getting ready for bed. As he lay there in the dark, he could hear the waves as they came ashore, soothing him. And soon, he could feel himself falling asleep. His last thoughts were of soap, cloves, and the ocean.

  Three

  HE STEPPED out of the shower to Woo-bin holding a towel, eyes averted.

  “What the hell?” Jack grabbed the towel and quickly wrapped it around himself. “Okay. Woo-bin, look.”

  Woo-bin bowed.

  Jack brushed by him and into the dressing room. The clothes he had put out were no longer where he had left them but hung neatly, and his bags were nowhere to be seen. He looked at Woo-bin and then opened one of the drawers built into the rich, polished wood—his briefs, neatly folded. Opening one of the closets—his clothes hung, shirts by color, pants as well. He sighed and mustered his patience. “Thank you, Woo-bin. I can take care of myself… of this.” He waved his hand around him.

  “I’m sorry, Seonsaengnim.” He bowed.

  “You don’t need to apologize, and when we’re alone together, you don’t have to bow, and you can call me Jack.” He needed coffee. And as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Woo-bin started to bow, then stopped, moved past him to answer it. In swept Kim Choon-hee carrying a tray with a cup of coffee, steaming and black. How did she?— Missy.

  Jack grabbed his bathrobe, and just as he was donning it and removing the towel, she turned, regarding him. Was that a smirk?

  “I serve breakfast in main room, not in bed.” She deposited the tray on the table by the window and moved toward the door.

  “Thank you, Kim Choon-hee? I’m Jack Calloway, and actually, I prefer to eat in the kitchen.”

  She stopped and bowed. He did so as well, and too soon, clocking her on the back of the head as she was rising. Choon-hee stopped, going down on hands and knees. Jack reeled backward, hand on his forehead, slamming into Woo-bin, and they both went sprawling, Jack’s robe open, exposing most of who he was.

  “Aigoo…. Aigoo, she huffed, shaking her head as she climbed to her feet and left the room.

  JACK TURNED as he covered himself. Woo-bin’s eyes were traveling the length of his body until they met Jack’s. A look of horror passed like a storm cloud across Woo-bin’s features, and he scrambled to his feet, offering Jack a hand to help him up. He ignored it and, standing, went over to the window to sit. Was he…? He looked over to where Woo-bin stood. He hadn’t moved. Head bowed.

  “Go, Woo-bin…. Out!”

  Woo-bin started to bow—nodded, then left the room hurriedly.

  Picking up his coffee, he sipped it. Hot. How he liked it. Somewhere between his shower and now, drapes had been opened. He looked out the window. The sun had risen but was still wrapped in blankets of pink and purple and orange. Morning. It’s because I’m different. I look different. Taller, whiter. American.

  He really didn’t care that Woo-bin was looking at him. Right…? The aroma from the cup slowly rose, enveloping him, warm and motivating. Changing his mind, he decided he wanted to see the property prior to his meeting at 1:00 p.m. Jack lifted the cup, looking into the depths of the dark liquid. I really don’t care what his preference is as long at he does his job and doesn’t get on my last nerve. One last draft. Choon-hee made good coffee. He hoped her cooking followed suit. Jack got dressed, went to have breakfast, and inform Woo-bin of the change in plans.

  The car was newly washed, waxed, and the interior cleaned. What time did he get up? Woo-bin had the door open and was waiting for him. He nodded, looking a bit distressed, but, no bow. It was a start. As they drove, Jack checked his messages. One from Luke. He picked it up.

  “Hey, Dad. Haven’t heard from you since we skyped the day you arrived there. Everything’s good here. Gram’s teaching me how to use the washing machine. She said I needed to be ‘self-sufficient’.”

  He smiled, laughing to himself. His mother was all about making your own way in the world. She had taught Jack how to wash and iron his own clothes when he was Luke’s age. His father insisted that it would make him soft.

  “Pop took me to see a Pats game. It was pretty cool. He let me sip his beer. Gross. How do you and Pop drink that shi—crap? Okay. Just wanted to say hi. And… um… that I love you, and I miss you. Call soon, ’k?”

  The call ended. Jack was fighting a lump in his throat when he noticed the glass separator was down. He wiped at his eyes, feeling frustrated at the intrusion. “What is it, Woo-bin?” He wouldn’t meet Woo-bin’s eyes in the rearview.

  “Please excuse me, Seonsaengnim…. Jack, do you want to drive a scenic route or follow the highway?”

  He looked at the time on his cell. It was still early. “I don’t care, Woo-bin. Scenic is fine.” The separator rose, leaving Jack alone again and feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. He had a hard enough time feeling emotionally vulnerable, let alone getting caught by someone he barely knew. They exited the throughway and onto a two-lane road. His phone vibrated.

  “Morning, Missy.”

  “Morning. Sleep okay?”

  “Yeah,” he growled.

  “Uh-oh. But?”

  “He can’t be standing outside the shower every morning, holding a towel.”

  “Jack, that’s just—”

  “Customary. I’m aware.” Deep sigh.

  “Well, tell him. He’s your valet. Lay down some ground rules. He’s an employee, Jack, albeit a little more personal than an admin. So, tell him what you want. He—”

  “Saw me naked.”

  Silence.

  “Missy?”

  “When you got out of the shower, he was holding a towel for you.”

  He shifted in his seat and looked out the window. They were passing through a small town.

  “Jack?”

  “I fell.”

  “You… fell.”

  “Choon-hee came into the room, we knocked heads. It doesn’t matter. I ended up on the floor on top of Woo-bin with my robe open. God.”

  “And he was… looking at you.”

  “Yes. I just—I’m just not comfortable with people in my room when I get out of the shower. I like my privacy. And I don’t like strangers—employees—seeing me naked. Jesus Christ.”

  “Okay. I’m not sure where you’re going with this. Just tell them what you want.”

  “Nowhere. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “Jack—”

 
“See you at one.”

  He hung up. The car had slowed due to traffic, and he noticed a market up ahead and rapped on the glass divider. It lowered. “Would you stop at that market?”

  Woo-bin nodded and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

  He wasn’t entirely sure why he had told her. Woo-bin had seen him naked. And he was checking me out. Wasn’t he?

  His door opened. As Jack climbed out of the car, Woo-bin bowed low. Oh for Christ’s sake.

  “I am sorry, Seonsaengnim—Jack. I didn’t mean to intrude. I won’t lower the divider again unless you ask me to.”

  Shaking his head slowly, he began with “Woo-bin….” He looked across the street. The vendors were putting out fresh produce and seafood. “Look, I need you to be… less attentive. Do you understand? I can open my own doors, car included. And please don’t be waiting for me with a towel. That is not necessary.” Forced smile. “I’m not used to being—attended to. It makes me very uncomfortable.” He glanced at Woo-bin. His head was lowered.

  “Yes. I am sorry.”

  “Okay. Good. I’m going over to the market. Please wait with the car.”

  Woo-bin bowed. Then appeared stricken.

  Jack huffed in frustration and, shoving his hands in his pockets, headed over to the array of carts with canopies set up in the huge open courtyard of a large building. The produce looked incredible, the aroma, heady. Fresh. There were mostly women shopping, and he felt a bit out of place in his two-piece light gray suit, white shirt, and black, rose, and white tie. It drew attention, and apparently he was going to be the morning topic of conversation. Smiling to himself, he picked out pears, persimmons, apples, and peaches, and then he asked how much. The man spoke Korean.

  “English?”

  He shook his head.

  Great. He held up his hand and motioned “wait” with one finger. The man nodded. Making his way back to the entrance, he waved. Woo-bin was leaning against the front of the car, and seeing him, crossed the street.

  “I’m sorry, Woo-bin. I need a translator. I should have had you come with me.”

  “It is okay. Let me help you.”

  They went back in, and Woo-bin paid the man with his own money. Jack had insisted on giving him cash, but Woo-bin was even more insistent. Cultural issue? He tried to give him the money once they were back at the car, but he wouldn’t take it. He followed Jack around to the passenger side but hesitated, hands clasped in front of him. Jack opened his own door and nodded. And Woo-bin nodded, waiting until he was sure Jack was in the car, door closed, before he got in himself.