The Sari Shop Widow (12 page)

She had a weakness for men with a self-deprecating sense of humor. And oh boy, she couldn’t get the nearly nude image of him out of her mind.

Groaning, she went back to her bed. She wasn’t supposed to like Rishi Shah. He was the man who had exploded into her life when she’d least expected it. He was the guy who was going to take over her business and turn her graceful Silk & Sapphires into something gaudy and grotesque.

No, she couldn’t like Shah. Or could she?

Chapter 9

R
ishi emerged from the shower feeling considerably more refreshed than he’d felt an hour ago. His leg felt slightly better, too. The cursed knee was acting up again. He had tossed and turned on the narrow single bed belonging to Nilesh. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Rishi was used to more lavish beds at his townhouse in London and his apartment in Delhi.

And Jeevan-kaka’s bell had created the worst sort of disturbance, giving him a headache to match the throbbing in his leg.

Besides, it wasn’t the feel of the bed or the level of the air-conditioning that had left him with practically no sleep. It was the whole bloody setup. He was a stranger to these people. They had been kind and hospitable to him, and young Nilesh was already treating him like a mentor of sorts, an older friend.

The Kapadias were a nice, wholesome family, but he was imposing on them. If Jeevan-kaka hadn’t insisted that Rishi stay here instead of at a hotel, this never would have happened. He hated hurting Jeevan-kaka’s feelings and that meant staying here at least for a few days.

Plus, the pretty and intriguing Anjali’s presence only a few feet from where he slept was mildly disquieting. He didn’t like the fact that she was stealing his thoughts away from Samantha, his girlfriend in London. He’d promised Samantha he’d invite her to join him soon so they could take a much-needed holiday.

Maybe he could take Samantha to one of the Caribbean island resorts where they could swim in a crystal-blue ocean, lie on the beach for hours and bake themselves till they turned the color of lightly grilled pork chops. And Samantha looked magnificent in a bikini—especially that little white number with the tiny black bows.

Lately he hadn’t had time for lying idle anywhere. His life was mostly work-work-work and travel-travel-travel. He’d been so busy tending to his multiple stores and offering consulting services to other businesses that he hadn’t given a thought to anything else.

All the money he was raking in was nice, but sometime in the near future he’d have to slow down and give himself a moment to enjoy some of it. Jeevan-kaka had been lecturing him on acquiring a wife. But Rishi had come to the conclusion that Samantha wasn’t the wifely sort. She was good in bed, efficient as a business associate, marvelous as the woman on his arm at business and social functions, but she was certainly not the wife-and-mother type.

Oh well, for now he wasn’t keen on marriage anyway. He had no time for a wife. Besides, he was too old for marriage and too set in his ways. Forty-two was rather late to think about a wife and a family, wasn’t it? However, Jeevan-kaka was convinced otherwise. The old man thought forty-two was not in the least unrealistic to get married and start a family. Maybe he was right. The old fox often was.

Rishi grabbed a towel. The Kapadias apparently had two full-size bathrooms upstairs and a small powder room downstairs. Assuming the master bath was exclusively for Mohan and Usha’s use, Rishi would obviously be sharing this bathroom with Jeevan-kaka, Anjali, and Nilesh. Though she was cute and alluring, sharing a bathroom with Anjali was a bit too intimate for him.

However, at the moment, as he dried himself, he was experiencing some cheap voyeuristic thrills in looking at her toiletries sitting on the counter: lotions, creams, and cleansers with ingredients like honey, yogurt, and wild berries; a purple razor with a rosebud on the handle; a hair dryer; a couple of brushes. Next to the tub were more scented shampoos and conditioners, and a shaving cream for women. The bathroom smelled like Anjali—a combination of…what was it? Strawberries and…gardenias was his guess.

The house was quiet and the sun was already brightening the sky as he slipped back into Nilesh’s room and got dressed. It promised to be a hot day.

Fortunately he had found an ironing board and an iron in the closet the previous evening, so he didn’t have to worry about wearing clothes wrinkled from having traveled in a suitcase. The iron was brand new and was still in its original box. When he’d seen Nilesh he’d realized why. The boy looked like he wouldn’t know what an iron was.

Rishi couldn’t help smiling as he recalled meeting Nilesh the previous afternoon. The boy was a spoiled brat, but he was bright. He also had potential, at least in the technical field.

Minutes later, dressed in a lightweight gray suit and a cream shirt and coordinated tie, Rishi tiptoed downstairs in search of a cup of tea. It was 7:13 A.M. The rest of the household was obviously sleeping after the morning’s perceived fire scare. He found Jeevan sitting bare-chested in white pajamas at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper.

“Good morning,” he said to the older man.

Jeevan looked up over his reading glasses. “Good morning,
beta
. You are up early.”

“Jet lag,” Rishi replied.

“Me, too. That is why I got up at dawn and finished my
pooja
.”

Well before dawn
. Rishi smiled. “I know. Your bell caused a bit of a stir in the house.”

Jeevan appeared clueless. “You want some
chai
?”

“
Chai
was exactly what I had in mind, but you don’t drink
chai
anymore,” said Rishi, wondering if he should say something about Jeevan disturbing the household before sunup. After a moment he decided it was best to let Mohan Kapadia handle his big brother on his own.

Pointing to a stainless steel pan on the stove, Jeevan-kaka said, “I made
masala
milk for myself and
chai
for you. Cups are in the cabinet on the right. Help yourself.”

Taking a sip of the thick, aromatic brew, Rishi turned to Jeevan with a pleased grin. “Not bad, sir…not bad at all.”

“Rishi, I know how to make the best
chai
. I used to make it for my brothers and sisters when I was young and unmarried.” He pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “I think Usha is in the bad habit of waking up late. So I made the milk and
chai
myself.”

“I appreciate that.” It was very thoughtful of the old man—thoughtful and unexpected, but entirely inconsiderate in disturbing everyone with his bell, and unkind in his remarks about Usha. But then that was Jeevan-kaka—a man of contradictions.

“Poor Auntie Usha was up late and she’d been slogging in the kitchen all day,” Rishi said in her defense. He raised his brows at Jeevan. “So, what are our plans for today? Personally, I think we should approach Mr. Tejmal first thing this morning and talk business.”

“Perfect. I had the same thing in mind.” Jeevan folded the paper and laid it on the table. “I want you to take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” Privately, Rishi had been hoping to do it on his own. Jeevan-kaka was about as subtle as a steamroller with a row of sharp steel teeth. He tended to put potential sellers on the defensive. Jeevan nodded, so he said, “Excellent. What time do the stores open in this area?”

“I think around ten o’clock.”

Rishi looked at his watch. “I’ll see if I can find a fitness club around here somewhere and sign up for a membership. If I don’t get some exercise soon, my leg is going to fall asleep.”

A concerned expression came over Jeevan’s face. “Rishi, the long plane ride must have been bad for the leg?”

“That’s all right. I travel all over the world. I can deal with it.”

“Thank you,
beta.
You don’t know how important this is to me.”

“I have some idea.”

“If my brother and his family are having problems, it is my duty to help them. And I trust you to come up with a good plan for them.”

Rising to put his cup in the sink, Rishi patted Jeevan’s shoulder. “I’d been planning to talk to you about expanding our market into the U.S. sometime in the future. This presents an opportunity.”

“It does?”

“And it’s rather fortunate that your brother already has a business and knows something about U.S. import-export laws.”

Jeevan peeled off his glasses and laid them on the table, then rubbed his eyes with his palms. “You are right.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I think I will go upstairs and get dressed now.”

Rishi wandered over to the family room and the telephone. Locating a telephone directory, he opened the blinds on the window and sat down on the couch. As he was unfamiliar with American directories, it took him a couple of minutes to find what he was looking for.

He found several gyms and fitness centers and jotted down the addresses and phone numbers for a few that seemed to be within the immediate area. Later, when Nilesh was up, he would ask him for recommendations. The boy looked like he worked out. He had to know a gym or two. Come to think of it, Anjali’s trim, athletic figure probably owed something to working out regularly, too.

Feeling restless, Rishi picked up the remote control and flicked channels on the small but serviceable television set until he found BBC News and settled down to watch what was happening around the world. A few minutes later, Jeevan-kaka joined him.

The two men sat companionably on the couch and watched the news for a while, then shut off the TV and returned to discussing business. Rishi pulled out a small notebook and pen from his pocket and made notes.

Half an hour later, Usha Kapadia appeared, dressed in a pastel blue cotton sari. She looked well groomed and ready to face the day. “Sorry, I overslept this morning,” she murmured and headed straight for the kitchen.

“Usha, I already made milk for myself and
chai
for Rishi,” Jeevan informed her.

Usha turned around and gaped at the old man. “Since when did
you
start making
chai
?”

“I always knew how to make it.” Jeevan grinned. “Whenever it becomes necessary, I still make it.”

“Good for you, Jeevan-bhai.” Usha strode into the kitchen and very soon the appetizing aroma of onions sizzling in oil wafted into the family room.

Rishi’s stomach rumbled. By his body clock it was lunchtime, and whatever she was making in there smelled jolly good.

By the time Usha had breakfast on the table, it was close to 9:00 A.M. and Mohan had joined the two men in the family room.

Just as they were about to start eating the wonderful looking
powha
—beaten rice seasoned with mustard seeds, onions, hot chilis and potato chunks, Anjali put in an appearance. Rishi’s mind went on full alert as the sweet strawberry-gardenia scent reached him.

This morning she was dressed in a narrow tan skirt that reached just below her knees and a shirt in a very becoming blue. Her hair looked soft and freshly washed. The lady had class.

Amazing, Rishi reflected. She didn’t look like she’d had very little sleep. She seemed full of pep laced with the usual dose of guarded reserve. He watched her open the refrigerator, pour a glass of orange juice for herself, and take a dainty sip.

Mentally he tried to toss Anjali out of his mind and replace the image with Samantha. Right about now it was early afternoon in London and Samantha would be at work in her crowded advertising office, looking very efficient in one of her designer suits and issuing orders to her staff.

Strangely, the thought of Samantha didn’t stir a single amorous sentiment this morning, like it used to at one time. Instead, his eyes traveled to Anjali, who was still standing at the kitchen counter, sipping her orange juice, pretending to ignore him and everyone else at the table. She tried hard to keep up the cool image, but he didn’t believe it for one moment.

He could sense a lot of heated emotions churning in that pretty head of hers. It seemed like behind all that wariness there was sadness. The wounded look had taken him by surprise when he’d caught a flash of it the previous day. It was a brief glimpse but it was definitely there. She was unhappy inside. But she didn’t want anyone to know it. He wondered if she ever showed that side to her parents—or to anyone.

Breakfast was quiet. Jeevan-kaka didn’t make a bit of fuss. He ate in quiet contemplation. Rishi had a feeling the old man was a little nervous about the prospect of Mr. Tejmal’s willingness to sell.

When Nilesh finally showed up for breakfast, red-eyed, unshaven, and scruffy, Rishi asked him about local gyms. Just as he’d guessed, the young man knew quite a bit and recommended one that was only a mile from the house.

Rishi thanked his hostess for an excellent breakfast and rose from his chair. “I’m going to sign up for a temporary membership at the gym. I’ll meet you folks at the store later,” he informed them and headed out.

All the way to the gym, Rishi mulled over his imminent meeting with Tejmal. Having done his research, Rishi knew exactly what kind of a price he would offer. He believed in fair business practices. Buying and selling had to be a satisfactory experience for both parties. Negotiations could get rough depending on the old man’s attitude and business savvy. If the old chap was anything like Jeevan-kaka, God help him.

As the large, single-story building that housed the gym came into view, he slowed down, found a spot in the parking lot, and parked his vehicle. Several cars were already there. It looked like the place opened early.

Perfect, he thought with a satisfied nod. It suited him well—the earlier the better.

Chapter 10

“H
i, Anjali, it’s me again.” The girlish voice sounded cheerful and eager.

Anjali, who was bending down to pick up some packaging material off the floor, straightened up and pushed the hair out of her eyes. Her face broke into a smile of recognition. “Roopa!”

“I brought Ajit this time.” Roopa Singh was dressed in a white miniskirt and a white shirt with bold neon green and blue splashes. She wore the same white sandals that she’d worn the previous day and carried the same white handbag. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She could easily be mistaken for a carefree teenager instead of a responsible schoolteacher.