The Sari Shop Widow (8 page)

Mohan shook his head. “The township zoning department may not allow that kind of restructuring of what was originally a duplex home—two houses joined by a wall.”

“I’ll look into it. All we may have to do is apply for a permit to fuse the two parts. As it stands, it’s a single building made into two stores with a firewall in between.”

“That will be very expensive,” cautioned Usha.

“Don’t worry about funding, Auntie. That’s our problem—mine and Jeevan-kaka’s,” replied Rishi gently. “The advantage of owning both portions of the building is that we can refurbish both as one, modernize it, and make it attractive.”

Usha didn’t respond, but continued to frown.

“That run-down store next door is single-handedly decreasing the value of your property as well as your sales volume,” said Rishi, putting on his most convincing voice. “It’s common knowledge that an unsightly property brings down the value of everything around it. The very appearance of
that
store prevents customers from coming to
yours.
”

“We’re aware of that,” said Usha, telling Rishi that she was sensitive about the aesthetics of her business. “We’ve tried several times to get Mr. Tejmal to clean up his storefront, but he just doesn’t seem to care. So we’re stuck with him.”

“That’s why we need to buy him out. Then you can have a corner building with its own large parking lot and separate entrances from two different streets,” he explained. “Obviously parking is at a premium in this neighborhood. This will be perfect to house a trendy boutique with no ugly elements on either side to spoil its exclusive look.”

Mohan chewed his lower lip. “Sounds good in theory, but…”

“Go ahead, Uncle.” Rishi shifted and gave him a questioning look. “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

“Tejmal will not sell, Rishi. He has owned that store for years. He bought it when real estate here was cheap because the neighborhood was not very desirable. In fact, when I bought my half some years ago, Tejmal’s portion had already doubled in value. Now it’s worth even more. Why would he want to sell a hot property?”

“Precisely because it
is
hot property, Uncle. Real estate here peaked a while ago, then reached a plateau, and is now in decline. It’s the perfect time for him to sell.”

“How do
you
know all this?” Anjali spoke for the first time in several minutes, surprising Rishi. But she still looked somewhat dazed.

He turned his attention to her. “Research.”

Usha shook her head. “Still, Tejmal may not
want
to sell. That store is his life.”

A disdainful roar of laughter came from Jeevan. “Have you seen that man’s display window? It is full of dust and cobwebs—and one pane is cracked. Like Rishi says, it is making your classy store look cheap. He is ruining the quality of the entire neighborhood.” He pulled a face. “If he does not sell that place, or at least refurbish it, he is dead, I’m telling you.”

Anjali turned to her uncle, looking horrified. “You can’t mean that!”

“Why are you looking so shocked, Anju? I’m just stating a fact.”

“You’re not going to…threaten Mr. Tejmal’s life or…something, are you?”

In reply she got a blank look from Jeevan. “Why would I do that?”

Rishi suppressed his urge to laugh. Was this woman serious? Did she really think her uncle had the potential to terrorize or put a contract out on some harmless old shopkeeper? Jeevan was notorious for his strong-arm business tactics, but they didn’t extend to such outlandish practices. He winked at Jeevan. “I think Miss Kapadia’s been seeing too many Hindi movies.”

“That’s not true!” Anjali protested. “Jeevan-kaka can be…well, I was only wondering if…Never mind.” This time she did collapse onto the chair Rishi had pulled up earlier and her hands descended in her lap in a limp, hopeless gesture. “I’m tired of this whole affair.”

She did look tired, Rishi noticed. More than tired, she looked dejected. He felt a strong pang of sympathy for her, but the disciplined businessman in him dispelled the emotion. She appeared to be a woman who was obviously used to having her own way. Well, it was about time she learned a lesson or two.

Life was not always neat and uncomplicated. And it didn’t come in pure shades of black and white either. Owning and running a business definitely involved innumerable shades of gray—and the sooner she learned that, the better. Time for the fairy princess to emerge from her sheltered castle, he told himself.

But his gentler feelings of compassion still clouded the pragmatic ones.

Since there were no more chairs left, he shifted again and leaned against the wall. It was crowded with tacked-on lists of phone numbers, store ads, pizza shop coupons, and pictures of Indian outfits. This tiny office appeared to be Mohan’s domain, very different from the neat and organized shop floor run by the two women.

He directed his gaze toward Anjali. “I own successful boutiques in London, Delhi, Mumbai, Hong Kong, and Singapore, so I know what I’m talking about, Miss Kapadia. If you’ll just listen for a moment, I’ll tell you all about it.”

He heard no protests, so he continued. “The one-stop-shopping concept comprises taking what you already have here, an exclusive boutique, then adding to it a classy beauty salon, an on-site photo studio, event planning and decorating, floral design, and an upscale coffee shop that sells
chai
, gourmet coffees, pastries, a variety of snacks, et cetera. A shopping experience like that is entirely different from the other operations around here. Am I correct?” He looked for affirmation at Mohan Kapadia, who was still gnawing on his lower lip.

“Sounds risky,” Usha murmured and glanced at her husband, who nodded.

Just then the sound of the bell alerted them to the front door being opened. Someone had entered the store.

Anjali, who had sat like a statue all this time, sprang to her feet. “Wonder who it is. Everyone knows we’re closed on Mondays.” She immediately started striding out to the shop floor.

Rishi asked the older Kapadias to stay put. “I’ll go with her. You folks can talk to Jeevan-kaka for a bit.”

He followed Anjali out the office door. He needed a chance to talk to her privately, convince her that he wasn’t her enemy. She seemed to be the most seriously affected by his plans, and he didn’t want to upset her any more than he already had. He’d be working with her very closely for the foreseeable future and it would be difficult if she continued to regard him with such fear and distrust.

She zipped through the aisles, sure-footed and agile—confident in her own milieu. She walked with a sexy, catwalk kind of swagger. He wondered if she’d picked that up from the fashion models who showcased her clothes.

He knew Anjali’s designs well. He’d studied them since Jeevan-kaka had mentioned this unexpected trip to the U.S. He’d read everything on the store’s Web site, apparently designed by her young brother. With Jeevan-kaka’s input, Rishi had a good idea of their balance sheet, too.

Naturally the models were good looking, but he hadn’t known the creator of those delightful clothes was equally attractive. He had to admit that despite her defensiveness and underlying hostility, she was a pretty woman. He’d been surprised to hear she was thirty-seven. She looked much younger.

Jeevan-kaka had been singing her praises in the past, and more so during the last couple of days. The old fox was clearly trying to do some matchmaking between Rishi and his niece. He’d told him a few times how Anjali would make the perfect wife. Since Jeevan-kaka had a tendency to exaggerate and even fib at times to suit his purposes, Rishi hadn’t paid much attention to his bragging about how appealing and bright his niece was.

Well, this time the old man hadn’t lied or exaggerated.

The smooth fit of her slacks showed off a slim waist, gently curved hips, and shapely legs. She wasn’t tall, but she had a lithe, athletic body. About her being bright, he’d have to wait and see. So far he’d only seen one or two sides of her personality. He was an excellent judge of character, and if he’d guessed right, there were other, less prickly facets to her. He meant to discover them all—sooner or later.

It would be to his advantage to find out
everything
about Miss Kapadia.

His eyes went to the front door. A petite young woman stood near it, taking in the room with dark, curious eyes. Dressed in designer jeans, electric blue shirt, and high-heeled sandals nearly six inches high, she seemed to be a customer. He saw her turn to the approaching Anjali with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know you’re closed today, but I thought I’d take a chance.”

“Not a problem,” Anjali replied.

“I was just driving by and everything in your window looked so beautiful,” said the young lady with a guilty grin and a shrug. “I couldn’t resist trying the door…and it was unlocked…”

Rishi decided to stay a few steps behind and observe. Although he couldn’t see Anjali’s smile, he could hear it in her voice. “That’s perfectly all right. You’re welcome to come inside and look.” She shook hands with the woman. “I’m Anjali Kapadia.”

The young lady’s eyes warmed up. “I’m Roopa Singh. You’re sure I’m not imposing on your day off?”

“Not at all. Customers are always welcome.”

“Thanks. That’s kind of you.” She let her gaze wander around the store for a moment. “I’m looking for bridal wear.”

Ah, newly engaged and eager to shop for a wedding trousseau,
Rishi reflected with a sense of satisfaction.
Excellent potential.

“You’re at the right place, then,” said Anjali. “I’ll show you where the bridal nook is.”

When she turned around and saw Rishi standing by the jewelry case, her smile immediately vanished. It was like a bright light had been put out.

“I thought I’d come out and help,” he said, explaining his presence. It wasn’t really important how Anjali reacted to him, but it did sting a little. She had every right to distrust him. Her uncle, who was known to be authoritarian, had swooped down on them and then foisted Rishi on them as an unexpected and unpleasant surprise. He’d seen it in both Anjali’s and her mother’s faces—the shock of seeing a stranger they hadn’t anticipated, their quick exchange of bewildered looks.

He’d immediately felt like an intruder. But he was planning on remedying that within the next day or two. He meant to find himself a hotel room as soon as he could convince Jeevan-kaka that as much as he was thrilled to be considered part of the Kapadia family, he didn’t belong in their cramped house.

Usurping Nilesh Kapadia’s room was beyond intrusion. He hadn’t even met the young man yet and the poor boy didn’t know his room had been casually offered to a stranger. Rishi’s main cause for discomfort was the Kapadia women, especially Anjali. She wasn’t unwelcoming as such, but there was that cool politeness that was like an invisible barrier.

Well, he was here strictly for business purposes, and if his future
business
partners didn’t like the fact or like him, that was their problem. And he wouldn’t have been here if Jeevan Kapadia hadn’t asked for his assistance. Rishi would do anything for the old man. He owed Jeevan a lot. Much more than a lot.

The two women disappeared amongst the bridal outfits and he followed them. He wanted to observe how Anjali Kapadia did business. He also needed to know the typical client that shopped at Silk & Sapphires if he was to make the upgrades meaningful. In fact, he considered it serendipitous that a promising customer had stopped in while he was here for his initial assessment.

This particular shopper appeared quite wealthy. The latest designer handbag and the fashionable sandals hadn’t escaped Rishi’s experienced eye; neither had the gleaming black German import parked right outside the door. He stepped forward and positioned himself practically next to Anjali. He didn’t want her to think he was a voyeur on top of everything else.

He introduced himself to the customer. “Hello. I’m Rishi Shah, an associate of Miss Kapadia’s,” he said, offering his hand to Ms. Singh.

Roopa Singh accepted his handshake and looked at both him and Anjali by turns. “So you two are like…uh…both owners of the store?”

Rishi knew it was his Caucasian looks and British accent combined with the Indian name that had the young lady mystified. She was probably wondering what a white-skinned Brit called Shah was doing in a business partnership with a purely
Desi
woman in New Jersey. It happened all the time when he and Jeevan-kaka introduced themselves as partners.

Nonetheless he smiled, trying to summon all the charm he could muster. “Yes, Miss Kapadia and I will be co-owners soon.”

Anjali glanced at him briefly before turning on the goodwill for the bride-to-be. “So, when is the wedding, Miss Singh?”

“Please call me Roopa. The wedding is set for a year from now. Mid June.”

“Beautiful and popular time of year for a wedding,” said Anjali. “All those roses and petunias in bloom—can’t beat that for outdoor photographs.”

“Exactly. And I’m a teacher, so I can have all summer off right after the wedding…for an extra-long honeymoon.” Roopa Singh dimpled prettily.

Anjali smiled. “Perfect timing, then.”

“I’m looking for something that’s kind of light and summery and yet Indian…you know…” Roopa made a helpless gesture with a dainty, manicured hand and Rishi noticed the diamond engagement ring, an impressive solitaire set in platinum—two carats or thereabout.

Anjali promptly brought out a writing pad and pen. “Okay, are you going to have a ceremonial Hindu wedding or…” She deliberately let that hang, Rishi realized, so the customer would tell her if her fiancé was Indian or of some other faith. Clever.

“Ajit and I want a nice East-West mix.” She looked longingly at the display Rishi had admired earlier. “I love that. Is it possible to have something along those lines?”

“No problem,” assured Anjali, already busy taking notes. “We can design something for both of you in coordination, and for anybody else in the bridal party, too. What color did you have in mind?”

“The usual red and gold for the ceremony, of course.” Roopa bit her lower lip in that cute way some women did when they were undecided or befuddled. She looked around at the racks and shook her head. “For the reception, I don’t know yet.” She turned to Anjali. “I’m open to suggestions.”