Fiction | July 09, 2026

The Visitation   

“The produce whisperer!” someone shouted, and Daisy knew she’d been spotted. She had just exited “Historic Truths about Roots,” a key panel at the Culinary Historical Society’s annual conference.  

Whenever Daisy was near a fruit or vegetable, her hands tingled. It would start at the center of her palms, then radiate out to the tips of her fingers, too. Once that happened, she instantly knew what was inside the piece of produce. Just that morning, she’d helped a farmer at the market decide what to toss and what to keep, had selected watermelon radishes and striped Chioggia beets for a vibrant fuchsia sample tray. 

The shouting had come from the Wassersteins, regulars at her restaurant, The Pentimento. They regaled her with compliments over the rutabaga puree they’d had on their most recent visit. “The color of the sun!” Mr. Wasserstein said, and Daisy silently agreed. That batch of puree had had a particularly warm glow. 

After the Wassersteins left, Daisy felt someone watching. She turned and saw an Asian man with a mega-wattage smile. Its brightness contrasted with the weariness of the rest of him. He was a little older, tan, with a wiry build and silvering hair. She didn’t understand why he was beaming as though he’d come upon something absolutely amazing. Instinctively, she looked behind her—had the server come by with a kitchen treat? She was craving bluefin tuna belly. But there was no tuna in sight, just a door that flapped noisily as servers carried out water carafes. 

When she turned back, the smiling man was still staring. Usually, stares felt like a violation. But this person didn’t make her cringe like usual. 

“Don’t think we’ve met—I’m Daisuke,” he said, coming forward, extending his hand. “But you can call me, ‘Dice.’ It is fine.”  

  “Daisy,” she said, shaking his hand, “But you can call me Daze.”  

“That’s a joke?”  

“It is.” He laughed.  

Soon, though, Dice was surrounded by attendees asking about his wife. She was apparently very sick and had been for a long time. 

Some of their questions were in Japanese. Except for a few names of dishes on her menu, Daisy didn’t know the language, but the sound transported her to another time in her life.