"Next Saturday is set—horoscope says 'suitable for matches,'" Heidi announced, tapping the paper calendar with a finger that smelled faintly of soy sauce.
Sage blinked at the numbers on the register, fingers still sticky from counting cash. "Mom, I said I don't do setups."
"You do not get to decide halting the universe's astrology," Heidi said, deadpan. "Also, your aunt texts are coming in. Two thumbs up, one incense emoji, one 'finally.'"
Sage pushed the drawer closed. "Aunt texts mean pressure, not cosmic approval."
Heidi laughed like she owned the street. "You are the only man I know who treats good handwriting on a praise board as a personality trait."
Kiara stuck her head from the kitchen. "You're calling the board a personality trait now, Heidi?"
"Always have," Heidi said. "Sage, give us a break and show up. What's the worst that happens? You eat dinner and someone compliments your handsomeness."
Sage narrowed his eyes. "People compliment my cooking, not my handsomeness."
"Same thing," Kiara shot back. "Both bring customers."
Heidi set a ceramic cup on the counter with a clack. "Dinner at six. I booked the small private room at Hara's on Fifth. I will bring the girl. You will be there."
Sage laughed. It came out hollow. "You can't 'bring' someone like they're miso soup."
"I can and I will," Heidi said. "She has been vetted. Her niece works at Luna Weddings and she comes with samples. And she likes
