Thursday, January 23, 2025

Mr. Wong Rights a Wrong, scene 5

Welcome, I’m Mary Louisa Locke, the author of the USA Today best-selling Victorian San Francisco Mystery series and the Caelestis Science Fiction series. In this daily newsletter, I reflect on my life as an indie author trying to age gracefully. Occasionally, I will also publish some of my shorter fiction in this newsletter to read for free.

Daily Diary, Day 1604:

Below is the fifth scene of the short story Mr. Wong Rights a Wrong, which I am putting in this newsletter for free, every Tuesday and Thursday. However, if you want to read my earlier post on why I wrote this story, go HERE.

But first, a brief check-in: Bright spots in the TV viewing arena, final episodes of Monk, finishing Astrid, starting this season of Elsbeth, and watching Mumford, a movie we haven’t seen in decades. Very sunny and warm enough to sit out for a few moments—but this means new fire danger. I have had a couple of short walks, and I’ve enjoyed doing the posts on where I find my plots. I think I might do one for the plots in Lethal Remedies.

Mr. Wong Rights a Wrong: A Victorian San Francisco Story
by M. Louisa Locke
Copyright 2014

Scene 5

“At least we were able to bathe her last night and she fell asleep afterwards, for a few hours,” Mrs. Greenstock said to Annie the next morning as they stood and observed Mei sitting on the lap of Mr. Wong’s housekeeper, Mrs. Chu. “But she still won’t eat.”

Annie was at the Chinese Mission for the financial meeting with Mrs. Greenstock that was rescheduled from the day before. She’d been ushered into the combination parlor and dining room where the remnants of breakfast were being cleared away by two young Chinese girls, and she could see through the open doors to several other rooms where other girls were making beds, sweeping, and tidying the rooms. Mrs. Greenstock, who was an older and more soberly dressed version of her daughter, explained that teaching the rescued women basic domestic tasks was part of the curriculum. “Our hope is that this will help them run their own homes when they marry,” she commented. “They all want to mother Mei, but the girl won’t let anyone but Mrs. Chu touch her.”

“Oh dear,” Annie said. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Wong?”

“He sent a message last night saying that the captain of the SS Acapulco finally confessed that he had let one of the labor contractors have Mei’s brother Song, and that he was pursuing that information.”

“That is dreadful,” said Annie. “But I have faith that if anyone can find Mei’s brother, it will be Mr. Wong. I would trust him...I have trusted him with my life.”

“Several of the men who attended chapel this morning talked to Reverend Jensen about Mei and they told him that Mr. Wong is well-known as a mediator between the Punti and the Hakka––being one of the few Chinese in the city who can claim family ties to both. It helps that he migrated to California right before the Taiping Revolution broke out so he wasn’t involved in any of the bloodshed between the two groups. I was surprised, however, when one man said that Mr. Wong is a fairly wealthy property owner––even owning some property outside of China Town. I thought you said he was a cook and manservant?”

Annie shrugged and said, “You could have knocked me down with a feather when Mr. Wong said he was sending for his housekeeper. I knew that like most Chinese manservants he didn’t live-in, but I imagined him rooming in some depressing basement room. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. A good cook like Wong can make twice what an ordinary parlor maid can make, upwards of $50 a month. After thirty years of steady employment, Wong could have saved enough money for his own home and servant.”

That servant, Mrs. Chu, a short, stocky woman with a round face and merry eyes, cradled Mei, tenderly rocking her back and forth and singing what must be some sort of lullaby in the Hakka language. Mei visibly relaxed in her arms.

“Mrs. Chu speaks English quite well. She told us she is the cousin of Mr. Wong’s late wife, and he paid for her to come to America twenty years ago.” Miss Greenstock added, “Evidently, she has worked for him ever since. She speaks quite highly of him.”

Annie thought about the Voss family, Wong’s employers. Given their recent financial difficulties, he was probably better off than they were. Perhaps he continued to work for them out of kindness, not necessity.

A flurry of noise behind them prompted Annie and Mrs. Greenstock to turn around, and they saw that the young girls who’d been tidying up were scurrying to join the other women who were clustered around the dormitory room doors, staring at the three people who had just arrived from the back stairs. Evelyn Greenstock and Mr. Wong bracketed a young boy, dressed in faded, patched garments two sizes too big for him. Annie could see he’d been treated badly by someone. Yet, despite a red welt marring his forehead and a purple bruise staining his left cheek, the family resemblance to Mei was unmistakable.

Puzzled by the boy’s hesitation and the way he was looking wildly around the room, Annie said, “Oh my word. He can’t see her,” and stepped hurriedly aside.

With a strangled cry, the boy sped across the room as Mei launched herself at him, and the two twins entwined, the dragon and the phoenix again reunited.

…final scene will be next Tuesday!

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