The Reluctant Matchmaker (7 page)

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Authors: Shobhan Bantwal

BOOK: The Reluctant Matchmaker
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“I like it a lot. It's different from anything I've done in the past.”
“Paul tells me you're very efficient.”
I knew Paul thought highly of me because he'd told me so. Nonetheless my cheeks warmed. “Paul's a kind man.”
“He may be kind, but he's a tough manager. He didn't have nice things to say about the last person working in your position.”
“I heard.” Pinky had filled me in on the lazy young man who'd been goofing off and doing a lousy job overall. Apparently Paul had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt for nearly six months, but the guy had blown it time and again, and ended up getting fired.
“I'm glad to have someone good on board this time,” said Prajay as the light changed and we started to move once again. “We can use all the help we can get in the PR area, especially with a name like Rathnaya.” He must have heard me chuckle, because he briefly turned to smile at me. “I told Nishant nobody would take us seriously with a silly name like that.”
“Nishant's the one who decided on the odd name?”
“His father did. Some astrologer advised him that the name should have exactly so many consonants and syllables in a certain pattern.”
“You're kidding!”
“It's supposed to bring good luck, according to Nishant's father.”
I pondered it for a second. “Well, looks like the astrologer was right. The company's been growing steadily since you started it twelve years ago. You've acquired two companies, are in the process of buying up a third one, expanded your public sector presence, and have taken on more subcontractors.”
Prajay gave a satisfied nod. “You've been doing your homework.”
“I had to, before I interviewed with Paul and Nishant.”
“No wonder they were impressed.” He turned the car onto my street. “Nice work on the press release about our acquisition. . . and on the new ad campaign.”
I didn't know he'd already seen the new ads. “Thanks,” I replied, feeling ridiculously pleased. I was beginning to like this guy more and more. His fierce face was starting to look rather attractive, too—even the nose didn't look all that big. When he smiled and his features softened, he looked ... nice.
I was almost sorry when he pulled into our driveway. I had enjoyed the ride immensely. When he walked me to my front door and opened it for me, I asked him if he'd like to come in for a cup of tea or a soda, but he thanked me politely and declined, citing more work to do at home. “I'll pick you up around quarter of eight tomorrow,” he said and strode back to his car.
“Thank you, Prajay.” I stood at the door and watched him drive away.
Such a pleasant giant, I thought.
Chapter 7
I
rode back and forth with Prajay for a total of five days, before I felt sure I could drive myself. It was with regret that I told him I was well enough to do it on my own. I wished I could prolong the rides indefinitely, but then he'd catch on to my lie, especially since I had begun to walk more normally.
The rides together had been especially delightful because we had talked about a lot of things, the business, our respective hobbies, our favorite movies, music, and just about everything. As we'd discussed various individuals from our Konkani community, we'd discovered that we knew some of the same people, especially since he had spent part of his childhood in New Jersey.
Best of all, Prajay and I had laughed a lot. I'd not only come to respect him and his capacity for hard work and his keen business sense, but I also genuinely appreciated him as a person. I didn't know when he was planning to return to Washington, but I hoped it wouldn't be anytime soon. I wanted to get to know him better.
During the following week, I didn't see Prajay at all, much to my disappointment. I knew he was in the building because I'd seen his Corvette parked in his reserved spot. Each day that week, I had put on one of my most impressive outfits, hoping to run into him. I had even lingered in the break room on the ninth floor to chat with a few people who I was friendly with, but there had been no sign of Prajay. It was as if he were hiding in some deep, dark cave.
I heard from Paul that Prajay and Nishant were neck-deep in negotiations with the Jersey-based software company they were about to acquire. That explained his absence despite being in the building. When I left for home every evening, the Corvette was still in the parking lot. I told myself that he was just another nice guy. And my boss. Nothing more.
By Friday night I was convinced that I'd probably never see him again.
 
On Saturday evening Shabari-pachi and her family decided to join us for a potluck dinner. The two families often did that, pooled whatever they had in their respective refrigerators and threw together an informal meal. It often ended up being an odd medley of leftovers, but it was fun to have my aunt and uncle, cousins, and both my brothers to lounge around with.
My cousins, Amrita and Lalita, were twenty-five and twenty-three respectively, and we got along well. When we were growing up we used to fight like alley cats, but as adults the three of us were like sisters—still arguing furiously at times, but basically close.
Amrita was a final year medical student, and Lalita was in graduate school, studying for a master's in bioengineering.
Shabari-pachi, who strongly resembled my mother, swooped down on me like a vulture just as we were finishing our dinner. My hopes of having a satisfying family get-together dissolved when I noticed her curious expression. “I hear Prajay Nayak is your boss ... and he's sending you flowers?”
“They were a standard ‘get well' bouquet ordered by his secretary,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
“But Kaveri tells me they were expensive roses.
Desis
are stingy about things like flowers. If he sends roses it has to mean something.”
“They were nothing special.”
“But I understand he's been driving you to work and all that.” She winked at me, trying to be subtle. But she didn't have a subtle bone in her body.
I sent my mom a blistering look across the table as I ate the last bite of the chicken with spinach curry on my plate. She'd blabbed to the whole world. “Prajay Nayak merely offered me a ride for a few days because my ankle was sprained and his condo isn't too far from here. Since then I haven't seen him.”
“What's this I hear about you falling at his feet?” teased my cousin Amrita with a wicked smirk. Tall and shapely, with long silky hair and a killer smile, she knew exactly how to yank my chain.
“I fell on my rear end and made a fool of myself,” I said blandly.
Mahesh joined in the conversation with gusto. “Fell flawlessly, so she could show him her legs, just like in the movies.”
“Watch it, Mahesh,” I warned.
Maneel, not to be outdone, threw in his contribution to the tease-fest. “Then she conveniently decides to use the poor, unsuspecting guy to chauffeur her for several days. Very clever, slightly devious,” he said with a mock impressed look.
To make matters worse, Guru-bappa, my uncle, whose full name was Gurunath, started snickering. “Did the trick work?”
Mom sighed. “I wish.”
“Tsk-tsk,” clucked Shabari-pachi. “You should have made the most of the situation, Meena. Why didn't you pretend to limp for a few more weeks?”
“I dislike deceit.” My jaw clenched hard.
“It's not deceit,” Shabari countered. “You would have had a chance to use some of the hints in that book I gave you for your birthday.”
I frowned at my aunt. “All the hints in the world wouldn't do me any good with this guy. He's built like a monolith. He's not for me.”
Shabari-pachi's eyes took on a familiar, calculating gleam. “Then maybe he's suitable for our Amrita.” Her gaze shifted to her own firstborn.
I grinned when I caught Amrita's expression of cross impatience. The spotlight had landed on her. “Mom, stop trying to fix me up. I told you I'm too busy to look at potential husbands.”
“Nonsense. Kaveri, Madhuri, and I went through grueling residencies after we were married, and still managed to have kids. If we could juggle homes, husbands, kids,
and
demanding careers, I'm sure you can find the time to meet the right boy,” declared Shabari-pachi with the imperious air of a queen.
The rest of the conversation went on in the same vein, with talk shifting from Prajay Nayak to other eligible young men, then gradually to my brother Maneel. The sneaky devil suddenly got up, claimed he had work to do, and pushed his chair in.
Every time my family brought up the subject of
his
marriage, Maneel did a vanishing act. I had a suspicion he was seeing someone and wanted to keep it a secret from my parents. One of these days I'd have to pry it out of him. It wouldn't be easy, but I had my ways.
Maneel made a quiet escape out the front door. Everyone laughed when Amrita made a face and said, “He-Man turns to Jell-O-Man when it's his turn.”
I agreed. It was nice to be the teaser instead of the teased for a change.
Meanwhile Lalita, perhaps to avoid the topic of marriage, excused herself from the table and went to the family room. A bit more introverted than her sister and my brothers and I, she preferred to do things by herself. She resembled Amrita to some degree but was slimmer and even prettier than she.
Fortunately Shabari-pachi and her family left soon after the table was cleared and the dishes washed and put away. I'd had enough of my aunt's third degree. I loved her dearly, but her interference in my life was a nuisance.
It was the Indian way. Playing matchmaker was every Indian woman's prerogative; my mother and my aunts chose to exercise it freely.
 
On Monday, just as I was winding up for the day and getting ready to shut down my computer, I received a surprise e-mail from Prajay:
Meena, I need to discuss something personal and confidential with you. I'd appreciate it if you don't mention it to anyone. Please stop by my office after work if you can spare the time. Thanks. PN.
I read it once again to make sure I'd understood it correctly. There was no mistaking the intent: after work; personal and confidential; needed to see me in person; in secret.
A slow tingle of anticipation started to hum along my skin. It sounded mysteriously delicious.
Maybe he was interested in me after all. He hadn't indicated it by a single word or sign. Had he been worried about sexual harassment and personnel policies and such? He seemed very proper in his behavior. So what had happened all of a sudden to make him come forward like this? Maybe it was time for him to return to DC and he wanted to find out how I felt about him before he left.
Whatever it was, it looked promising. I sent him a response:
I'll stop by today after my two colleagues leave. Is that okay with you?
His reply was instant:
Sounds good
.
Thanks.
I couldn't wait for Paul and Pinky to leave. Pinky left at her usual five o'clock because of her kids, but Paul took forever to make a move. He was on the phone with Jeremy for several minutes, writing down a list of items he was supposed to pick up from the supermarket.
Since our two offices were separated by a thin wall, I could hear every word of the conversation. By the time Paul had written organic spinach and mushrooms, farm-raised tilapia, high-protein pasta, and Asian sesame dressing with no MSG, I knew exactly what the two men were having for dinner that evening.
I waited for Paul to hang up the phone.
Get it over with and get to the market already.
I cracked my knuckles once or twice.
When Paul finally put on his jacket, slung his lunch bag over his wrist, and stuck his head in my office to bid me good night, I breathed a small sigh of relief.
“You still here?” he asked with a curious expression.
“I'm meeting a friend for drinks later.” I tried to sound casual. “Figured I'd go directly from work.”
“Have fun.” Paul took off, whistling under his breath. And why not? Jeremy was waiting to cook him a lovely gourmet meal.
I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes to six—hopefully most of the folks had gone home for the day. But then this was an IT company, and people worked the oddest hours. They pretty much made their own schedules. Well, I'd just have to work around it. This was an important issue for me ... and Prajay. It couldn't wait.
Making a trip to the deserted ladies' room, I fixed my hair and makeup and dabbed a little perfume on my pulse points. I regretted not having worn something softly feminine and pretty. But how was I to know that Prajay would drop this bombshell on me at the end of the day, especially since I hadn't seen him or heard from him for an entire week?
This morning I'd chosen to put on a steel gray suit and a yellow shirt with silver buttons. Very professional, but hardly seductive. I was still in sneakers, too. But at least my face and hair looked fine.
I tried to practice various expressions in the mirror—just in case he said what I thought and hoped he'd say: stunned surprise, pleased astonishment, the dazed look, wide-eyed delight. Nothing looked genuine, so I gave up. I wasn't one of those females who believed in putting on airs, anyway.
Besides, he'd seen me at my worst—flushed and swollen-eyed, runny-nosed, and flat on my back, hysterical with pain.
And yet he wanted to have a very private talk with me. Maybe Mom was right about fate's throwing us together.
I locked the door leading into the main office and took the elevator to the penthouse. Now that I was headed in that direction, my heart was pounding. My hands were shaking, so I thrust them in my pockets. Perspiration began to form on my skin.
What was I getting into? All at once reality struck me with a punch similar to the collision I'd had with Prajay three weeks ago. Did I really want to see this guy socially? Was he my type? I'd probably romanticized my involvement with him only because it had happened in such a dramatic manner. Was it akin to a patient's spinning fantasies around her doctor or therapist?
If I'd met Prajay the normal way, I'd have had a brief and formal meeting with him, and that would have been the end of it. He wouldn't have carried me in his arms or driven me to work. I'd never have gotten to know him on a personal level. I wouldn't be on my way to his office now. More like sneaking in after-hours.
The elevator doors opened. I stepped out very carefully and looked both ways to avoid a repetition of my fiasco. The hallway was deserted.
Prajay's office was the closest to the elevators, so I didn't have to pass by other people's offices, thank goodness. I heard a male voice speaking somewhere at the far end of the hall on the other side. It sounded like a phone conversation. I heard the click-click of a keyboard. Ignoring all the familiar sounds, I kept moving.
Anna's desk was unoccupied. Hopefully she was gone for the day. The efficient Anna was actually Annapurna. Everyone called her Anna for short. She was a perfect executive secretary—friendly and professional, yet very discreet—but I had the feeling Prajay didn't want even her involved in whatever he was about to reveal to me.
Prajay's door was wide open, and he was sitting at his desk, studying his computer screen with a slight frown. He looked totally absorbed. He seemed to be an intense man, highly focused on his work, and yet he seemed so easygoing on a personal level.
I observed him in silence for a moment. His shirt today was a light olive with a coordinated tie and gold cufflinks. It looked good on him. His dress habits were a complete contrast to those of his friend and partner, Nishant.

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