The Sari Shop Widow (7 page)

Anjali shot her mother a reassuring look. “I took care of it. I haven’t had a chance to look at the back rooms, though.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

In five minutes flat the women had the two small fitting rooms and the restroom looking as neat as they could manage. Anjali observed her father sitting at the computer, furiously clicking away, a slight frown on his face. The laser printer on the desk was spitting out page after page of reports. Despite his earlier elation at having his brother here, her father now seemed just as nervous as Anjali and her mother.

A moment later the security bell attached to the front door chimed, announcing the arrival of Jeevan and Shah. Anjali heard them talking.

“But what if that fellow refuses to sell, Rishi?” her uncle asked.

“We’ll offer him a fair price. No one refuses a good offer.” Anjali heard cool confidence in Shah’s voice. “You know that as well as I.”

And what exactly did that mean, she wondered? Offer someone a fair price? All of a sudden her stomach lurched. Was Shah talking about her father? Were her uncle and Shah planning to buy the boutique from them? But then her uncle had mentioned some
fellow
.

Meaning to question them about their intentions, Anjali stepped out of the office and onto the sales floor. She came to a standstill when she noticed the men stopping at one of the displays. They were studying it carefully. It was a bride-and-groom duo of mannequins sporting Anjali’s latest bridal wear. She had the mannequins posing under a wedding
mandap
—the ceremonial Hindu marriage canopy.

The bride was dressed in traditional red and gold, with a
chunni
over her head, but the dress was designed somewhat like an American bridal gown, with slightly puffed sleeves and a low neckline that showed a hint of cleavage and showcased the ruby-and-pearl necklace to perfection. The groom wore a cream silk, tuxedo-style jacket over matching trousers paired with cream and gold hand-sewn
mojdis
, the traditional formal shoes.

Anjali was particularly proud of those designs. She’d had at least three bridal couples who’d fallen in love with that display and ordered similar outfits in recent months.

Itching to hear the men’s comments, she hid behind one of the tall clothing racks to eavesdrop on their conversation. From her vantage point she could just about see their profiles.

Shah had his dark glasses hooked over his shirt pocket. He touched the embroidered sleeve on the bride’s outfit. “This is good, Jeevan-kaka, elegant…clever.”

“All designed by our Anju, Rishi. She is very talented in these things, you know.”

A brief smile touched Anjali’s face at the warm pride in Jeevan-kaka’s voice. She had to admit that despite his cantankerous ways, he was genuinely fond of his nieces and nephews. He was a true family man.

“I can see that,” said Shah. “Everything here is quite impressive. But design and display are not the problem, are they? We have to come up with a plan to expand this into something that’s even better, a more one-stop, one-of-a-kind type of store. Right now it appears to be competing with a dozen or more stores that do more or less similar things and sell similar products.”

Anjali nearly gave herself away by gasping. Do similar things and sell similar products? Hardly! There was no comparison between her boutique and those other shops. And what was that remark about one-stop shopping? She reflected over it for a moment. Then it sank in.

They were going to buy her and her parents out and then turn her exclusive boutique into a run-of-the-mill department store. Good grief!

How could a man who dressed like a million dollars and spoke impeccable English dream up such bourgeois ideas? Jeevan-kaka was capable of coming up with classless notions, but Shah seemed urbane—a man who shopped at the best stores. He had the aura of money about him. Even the way he held his soda glass or greeted people or simply stood up reeked of refinement. He was a good example of how deceptive appearances could be.

She held her breath, inched closer, desperate to hear more of what they were saying.

“That is true, Rishi, but what if that fellow will not sell?”

Shah paused. “There’s no harm in asking, is there?” He laid a large hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Jeevan-kaka, when was the last time you and I couldn’t convince someone to sell?”

Jeevan grinned. “Okay, we will ask.”

As the two men made their way toward the office, Anjali shifted gently so they wouldn’t see her. Seconds later she jumped when a voice close to her, much too close, whispered, “You may come out now, Miss Kapadia.”

“Oh!” Hot blood rose in Anjali’s cheeks at the sight of Rishi Shah standing behind her with his arms crossed over his chest, staring down at her exactly the way Mr. Goldstein, her high school principal, had done when he’d caught her cutting class. She felt like she was sixteen again. And she didn’t like the trapped feeling one bit.

“M-Mr. Shah!” When and how had the man crept up on her so quickly? She’d seen him and her uncle walking away. “Are you spying on me?” He’d managed to make her feel like a thief in her own store.

“Not at all.”

“Sneaking up on me like that? I’d call that spying.”

“I beg to differ, Miss Kapadia.”

“But—”

“
You
were spying on Jeevan-kaka and me,” he interrupted her dryly, his accent more clipped than ever.

Shah looked enviably cool. He was standing so close she could see the scar on his eyelid clearly, and the thin, black rim around his steel gray irises. Steel gray—that’s what the shade was. And just as cold and hard as the metal. She shivered a little. Mr. Goldstein came to mind again.

Finding no suitable words against his accusation, she did what came instinctively. She turned defensive. “I was merely walking around
my
property, checking on
my
things when you and my uncle happened to walk in.”

“One of the drawbacks of having mirrored walls is that one can see everything around in a single glance,” he said. “I saw you emerge from the office and stop when you spied us. I clearly observed you tiptoeing and assuming a position behind the
chania-cholis.
”

“Like I said, I was checking on the
chania-cholis.
”

“You, Miss Kapadia, wanted to find out exactly what Jeevan-kaka and I were discussing.” His dark eyebrows shot way up, challenging her.

“Maybe. Besides, it’s
my
store, and I have a right to know what you two are planning to do with it.”

A glint of humor, both astonishing and sudden, appeared in his eyes, making the steel turn to a softer gray, more like pewter. “Since you eavesdropped, you heard it all.”

To give her shaking hands something to do, she pretended to adjust the scarf on a mannequin. “All I gathered was that you’re planning on turning my boutique into some type of department store.”

He became silent for a moment before breaking into an amused smile. “Department store? Where did you get that idea?”

Much to her chagrin, her lower lip started to tremble. The scarf slipped out of her hands and glided to the floor. “How can you do this? You and Jeevan-kaka charge in here like a pair of Indian bulls, criticize everything, and then plan to turn an elegant shop into a cheap mockery.”

“That’s not the way it is,” he said, sounding like a patient schoolteacher. He bent down to pick up the scarf and handed it to her. “Without knowing the details of our plan, you’re simply jumping to conclusions.”

Carefully placing the scarf back around the mannequin’s neck, she started to move toward the office. “Then why don’t you and Jeevan-kaka enlighten me and my parents? Let’s hear what your grand plan is all about.” She generally didn’t make barbed remarks, but she couldn’t help saying, “Buy-one-get-one-free specials on rare diamonds from South Africa?
Chania-cholis
and
shervanis
made of polyester and rayon? Blue-light specials on Myanmar rubies?”

“Blue-light specials?” He laughed. “Is that an American marketing concept?”

“Not funny, Mr. Shah.” She was trying hard not to burst into tears.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’m trying to learn some American merchandising terms.”

She stopped in her tracks abruptly. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, but my parents and I are under a lot of stress at the moment. My sense of humor is on…vacation.”

“I understand. Mine frequently takes a holiday,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. The left eye, with its puffy lid, looked smaller than the right when he smiled.

She realized something. The flash of humor in his face was like a mantle lifting away from him. A human being existed underneath that cold, granite-like façade. And she wasn’t sure whether she liked or disliked the discovery.

Her uncle saw them approaching. “Here they are.” He motioned to them to step inside the office. “Rishi, I was waiting for you so we could tell them together what you and I were discussing.”

Anjali looked at her parents. It was hard to judge what her father was thinking; he wore a puzzled frown. Her mother looked tense, brittle enough to shatter.

“Rishi, tell them,
beta
,” said Jeevan, looking pleased and paternal. “He has a brilliant plan, Mohan,” he assured his brother.

Shah stood with his hands in his pockets and surveyed the room for a moment, once again seemingly studying every detail, down to the last thumbtack holding up a newspaper cutting on the wall. “You have a marvelous store here. Jeevan-kaka and I are impressed. It has some unique designs and it shows great promise.”

“But?” Anjali cut in.

“But…I think it needs something more.”

“More what?” demanded Anjali.

“It could use some upgrading.”

“How much upgrading?” Usha asked, clearly suspicious.

“Considerable,” said Shah, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “My recommendation is a complete overhaul—an expansion, if you will.”

“Expansion?” said Usha in an astonished whisper.

“We’re up to our eyeballs in debt,” Anjali said. “The last thing we need is to sink more money into the business.”

“But Jeevan-kaka and I—”

“We need to clear out our present inventory,” Anjali cut in, “not add to it.”

He offered her a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to worry on that count, Miss Kapadia. Jeevan-kaka and I are planning to finance this operation.”

“You’re loaning us the money?”

He shook his head. “We’ll be your partners. We’ll take on fifty-one percent of the debt.”

She frowned. “That means…you’ll own fifty-one percent of the business.”

Anjali felt the carpet being jerked out from under her feet.

Chapter 5

R
ishi noted the expression on Anjali Kapadia’s face. She had turned pale and her mouth was quivering. Her breath had quickened, making her chest rise and fall visibly beneath that soft-looking silk blouse that clung to her breasts. And a pretty bosom it was, too—full and proud.

Her mother looked like she was about to explode. And her father seemed just plain stunned. What was worse was that they had all slipped into silence.

Rishi was prepared to field angry rebuttals, protests, and arguments, but not utter quiet. It was rather…disquieting, he reflected with a wry inward grimace at his own play on words.

The three American Kapadias looked frozen like a tableau. Jeevan was the only Kapadia who seemed unaffected. In fact, he looked jubilant. A smile hovered over his face, making his nose look larger than ever. But then Jeevan had heard Rishi’s ideas in some detail and he approved of them wholeheartedly.

Finding a spare folding chair resting against the wall, Rishi unfolded it and gestured to Anjali to sit down. She looked rather fragile, and he didn’t want her passing out or something. But she ignored him and continued to stare at the floor as if fascinated by the pattern on the tiles.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, folks. I realize this is a bit of a surprise, but believe me, what the store needs at this time is shock therapy.”

Mohan Kapadia was the first to respond. He combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure about this expansion idea, Rishi.”

“I’ll explain in a moment, Uncle,” Rishi assured him. It wasn’t a promising sign that the two women continued to maintain their silence. From what he’d gathered during the last couple of hours and from Jeevan-kaka’s description of the family, it was Usha who more or less ruled the roost. Anjali was the creative mind and the visionary behind the business. He’d managed to antagonize the two main players.

It was probably a mistake on his part to present his ideas with such haste. A little more tact would have helped as well. Unfortunately, being used to direct and tough business negotiations most of the time, he wasn’t prepared for this kind of delicate, dance-around-the-issue type of situation.

Perhaps he should have waited a little, prepared them to some degree and introduced his plan bit by bit. Instead, he’d delivered it in one quick stroke. But it wasn’t all his fault, damn it. Miss Kapadia, with her pretty eyes and the distrust and sadness alternating in them, had made him lose his sense of balance.

And he very rarely lost his sense of balance.

Usha turned her head and fixed her gaze on her brother-in-law. “Jeevan-bhai, I agree with Mohan and Anju. I can’t imagine how expanding a failing business is going to help. We’ll only end up deeper in debt.”

Jeevan Kapadia raised an imperious hand and motioned for the three of them to calm down. “Why are you jumping to conclusions? At least
listen
to Rishi first.”

Rishi sighed. Jeevan-kaka, despite his brilliant mind, had little sense of timing or diplomacy. Once he latched on to an idea, he ran at top speed with no thought for caution—like those bulls Miss Kapadia had alluded to. But then, he was in no position to judge Jeevan-kaka when he himself had behaved in exactly that fashion.

It was time for damage control.

“This is what I propose,” he started. “We approach the person who owns the wholesale grocery shop next door. From the looks of the storefront, it’s not a thriving business. I want to find out if he’s willing to sell his space to us. Jeevan-kaka tells me you currently own half of the building. If we can buy that man out, then we can join the two halves, essentially doubling its size and at the same time owning a larger, more desirable property.”