The Sari Shop Widow (13 page)

“Welcome to Silk & Sapphires.” Anjali offered her hand to Roopa’s fiancé. “I’m Anjali Kapadia. So you’re the lucky groom.”

“I’m Ajit Sahni.” The man shook her hand with a lighthearted grin. “I’m the lucky guy who’s going to be footing Roopa’s shopping bills after May of next year,” he added and playfully tugged on Roopa’s ponytail.

“Congratulations.” Anjali noticed he was at least a foot taller than the petite Miss Singh. He was a slim man with a narrow face and a dark mustache and goatee. He wore glasses that gave him a serious, owlish look. But the friendly grin seemed to change that image at once. It bordered on cute. She could see why any young woman would find him irresistible.

Her next hour was spent with the couple, going over sketches, designs, and styles, just like she had the previous day with Roopa.

She observed the groom-to-be whip out his platinum American Express card to pay for the deposit on his purchases. His elegantly fitted clothes and the sleek imported sports car parked outside convinced her that theirs would be an ultra-expensive wedding. The bridal clothes and accessories would probably be a drop in the bucket where these two happy young people were concerned, so she didn’t particularly feel guilty about selling them her top-of-the-line items. Ajit and Roopa were doing their part in keeping the store from plunging into bankruptcy, God bless them. And hopefully showcase her designs well enough to bring their friends to her store.

A slight pang of envy struck her, though, as she watched Ajit Sahni put a possessive arm around Roopa’s slim waist and give it a squeeze. While Anjali rang up the sale, she caught a quick glimpse of the intimate look that passed between the couple. They were in love.

Ah, love—such a beautiful thing. And so fleeting. Anjali would probably never again experience the feeling of being completely and foolishly in love. She was too old and too jaded for that sort of sentimental mush anymore.

She considered herself a dedicated businesswoman and designer. Making beautiful clothes and selling them to folks who appreciated them and wore them with the same sense of awe that she felt in creating them were her main interests in life now. Love and marriage were not something she paid attention to, although her parents would have loved it if she did.

But now that Jeevan-kaka was here with his old-fashioned ideas about marriage, the subject was likely to rear its head again. She’d have to find new ways to avoid it.

The credit card receipt sputtered out of the register, interrupting her thoughts. She handed it to Ajit for his signature. “We’ll let you guys know when our other bridal services are up and running.”

“I can’t wait to get the bridal hair and makeup demonstration,” said Roopa, trying to get a peek at the receipt her fiancé was signing.

“There’ll be an elegant
chai
and coffee shop on the premises, by the way.”

Ajit raised his jet-black eyebrows. “Pretty fancy. You hear that, babe?” he teased his fiancée. “You could practically live here during the summer.”

“We aim to please,” said Anjali with a chuckle and put the signed receipt away. “A unique shopping experience for brides, grooms, and everyone in between…for any occasion.” She was surprised to find herself peddling, or rather
almost
peddling the one-stop concept herself, although she didn’t have too much faith in it.

But she had no choice other than to market the notion actively and hope it would succeed.

“Thanks, Anjali,” said Ajit. “I’ll stop by in February for my first fitting, then. Here’s my business card if you need to reach me.” Pocketing the invoice and the credit card receipt, Ajit wrapped his arm around Roopa once again. “You ready for lunch, sweetheart?”

Roopa nodded, the stars in her eyes even brighter than they were an hour ago. “Shopping makes me hungry.”

Ajit winked at Anjali over Roopa’s head. “Shopping makes her hungry; it makes me lose my shirt.” When Roopa threw him a look of mock indignation, he grinned and steered her toward the exit.

People in love, thought Anjali with an indulgent shake of her head. She promised herself she’d make it a lovely wedding for them—something they’d remember forever. She chuckled over Ajit’s droll remark about losing his shirt.

“You should laugh more often; it suits you.”

Anjali looked up and her laughter faded. Rishi Shah stood a few feet away, his suit still looking good after hours of wear. He must have come in through the rear entrance because she would have seen him if he’d walked in the front door. “Mr. Shah, I thought you were going to be out on important business all day.” She’d been looking forward to a day of peace and quiet.

“Don’t you wish? That’s what I’d expected, too, but the old man, Tejmal, was too bloody easy to convince.” Rishi Shah smiled that rare, amused smile.

“You mean easy to manipulate.”

“Same thing.” His confidence was enviable.

“I guess that means Tejmal is willing to sell?”

“Willing, ready, and eager,” he replied. “Not much of a challenge, if you ask me. Within the week we can close the deal and that space becomes ours.” He pointed at the wall on Tejmal’s side.

Week? Anjali felt her heart drop very slowly. She’d hoped it would take months, at least weeks before anything jelled, so she could have a little more time to get used to the idea. Exactly how much money had Shah offered the old man to make him so anxious to give up his property?

She raised an eyebrow. “You managed to get financing arranged that quickly? No wonder they call you a business whiz.”

“We’re paying cash. That’s what attracted Tejmal in the first place. He was rather hesitant in the beginning, but I mentioned cash and his cataract-riddled eyes lit up.”

“Tejmal has cataracts?”

“One of the many reasons he wants to get out of the grocery business and retire. He told me he’d been putting off having eye surgery for the last couple of years. Now he can go ahead and schedule his operation,” said Rishi.

“I see.” Anjali noticed that typical British and Indian way of pronouncing
schedule
. It always intrigued her.

“It’s just a matter of arranging for our London bank to transfer the funds. Then we can set up an appointment with Tejmal’s lawyer and accountant and yours.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say, Miss Kapadia? I thought you’d have some choice words for a man who browbeats old men like Tejmal into submission.”

“Would it matter? You and Jeevan-kaka have everything locked away. The store is yours now.”

“Wait a minute. That’s not true.”

She gave a long sigh. “Fifty-one percent ownership means you own most of it, Mr. Shah.”

“I realize Jeevan-kaka and I look like bullies at the moment, but I hope in time you’ll realize that once the refurbishing and setup are complete, we’ll leave everything to you and your parents. The store is still very much yours. We’ll only be silent partners. We don’t plan to interfere unless it becomes necessary, Anjali.”

“You mean when we screw up completely, like we did this past year?” She realized he’d used her first name.

He eyed her for a moment. “We don’t believe any of you
screwed up
, as you choose to put it. Business decisions are not always perfect. We all make mistakes. And we learn from them.”

“I must be the exception.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Anjali.” As if he’d suddenly realized he’d called her by her first name, he tilted his head. “May I call you Anjali?”

“Of course, Mr. Shah.”

“I wish you’d call me Rishi, especially since we’ll be partners soon.”

She shrugged. “As you wish.”

He abruptly moved in behind the counter to where she stood, crowding her between himself and the cash register, taking her by surprise. “Anjali, please don’t pretend indifference. If we are to work together for a while to make this shop a success, you have to start showing a modicum of interest. All this is more yours than it ever will be mine or your uncle’s.” He took a step closer, literally squeezing her against the register. “You understand what I’m saying?”

Anjali struggled for breath. It took a moment to realize the breathlessness was caused by his nearness. She could smell his aftershave, clearly see the small scar just beneath his right eyebrow, and literally count the number of hairs in his thick, short eyelashes. Dear Lord, but the man had a disturbing presence.

She swallowed hard, but managed to breathe and hold his gaze. “Y-yes,” she finally managed to choke out.

“So, do we have an understanding?”

“Uh-huh.”

He still towered over her. “Will you start addressing me as Rishi?”

Feeling limp and still out of breath, she nodded. She could see his shoulders ease a little.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Unexpectedly he raised a hand to touch her face—a gentle, fleeting touch. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m not the sort of chap who hurts women.”

“I—I’m not frightened.” She didn’t think he was dangerous. That’s probably why she hadn’t made a single move to escape when he’d come too close. He was intense, a ruthless businessman, perhaps, but he didn’t come across as a violent man.

He backed away several paces and then moved back to the other side of the counter before extending a hand. “Truce?”

She nodded and placed a damp hand in his large, dry one. She still couldn’t speak. Her insides were tingling.

“Ah, there you are.” Jeevan-kaka’s voice interrupted them as he emerged from the back and approached them. “Did you tell Anju the good news, Rishi?”

Rishi nodded. “I did, and she’s thrilled.” He turned to Anjali with a smile. There was no hint of what had just occurred between them. “Aren’t you, Anjali?”

“Yes,” Anjali murmured, her voice still unsteady. This was ridiculous. She was reacting like she’d just stepped off a roller coaster. But then Rishi Shah had managed to twist her nerves into tight knots during that brief minute when he’d pressed against her. He, on the other hand, looked unruffled.

“Good. Next thing on the agenda is interviewing the building contractors.” Jeevan-kaka looked like a kid in a candy shop as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He obviously lived for this kind of business planning.

“I was thinking of having Anjali design the interior and then bring in an architect and contractor to follow her ideas,” replied Rishi. He must have heard Anjali’s gasp of surprise. He turned his gaze to her. “Why do you look stunned?”

“Why…would you want
me
to design the new store? I’m sure you have some fancy interior designer in London or Hong Kong you’d prefer to work with.”

Rishi shook his head. “Your father tells me you designed the store’s interior and the display window, and both Jeevan-kaka and I think you did a remarkable job.”

“Really?”

“We’ve been discussing it since early this morning. I believe you were still sleeping at the time.” His amused look was his way of reminding her of the hue and cry she’d raised about that imaginary fire.

Predictably she felt the warmth seep into her neck and face. She tried to keep her thoughts focused on what they were discussing at the moment. “So you’ll allow me to work on the interior design?”

“Of course,
beta,
” chirped Jeevan. “You are good at that. Why would we pay for an expensive designer when we have talent in our family?” he said, always the guy with his eye on the bottom line.

“Not only will we allow it, Anjali, we’ll consider it an honor.” Rishi picked up the pen and writing tablet lying on the counter and drew a crude rectangle to indicate the rough layout.

“Thanks.” Despite their compliments she still had misgivings.

The sound of the door opening had the three of them looking up. Sejal strode in, looking a little flushed from the hot day outside.

“Hi, guys,” she called in her usual cheery note. “Sorry I’m late. There was some kind of accident on Route One and the traffic was…” She stopped and looked at the faces around her. “Did I interrupt something?”

Jeevan-kaka shot Sejal a magnanimous smile. “No, Sejal. You should hear this exciting news. We are buying the neighbor’s store and making this store bigger and better and nice-nice.”

“You mean like…the whole building?” Sejal’s face lit up by slow degrees.

Anjali gave her a nod.

“Cool! Then maybe I can work here full-time after graduation?”

“There’s a good chance that could happen.”

“I can be like you, Anju. I can become a full-time designer and fashion consultant.” She had a grin on her face. “Wait till I tell my classmates. They’re going to be soooo envious.”

Rishi chuckled indulgently before he started drawing smaller rectangles within his large rectangle. He pushed it closer to Anjali. “Here, take a look at some ideas I have. This represents the two stores combined, after the wall is demolished.”

“Hmm.”

He pointed to a corner. “This far area over here would be ideal for the café, close to Tejmal’s back door. It facilitates grocery deliveries and pickups, and venting the kitchen stove and its odors directly into the back. The opposite corner over here, which now houses the children’s outfits, can become the beauty salon. It has good southern exposure with lots of sunlight. We could put in some skylights in the roof to bring in additional natural light.”

As Anjali listened to his voice explain things to her, the reality of it all began to sink in. It was happening too fast; it was happening nonetheless. Three optimistic pairs of eyes were focused on her. But instead of her nervousness diminishing, it went up a notch.

She was drowning.

Chapter 11

“T
hey’ve taken over our lives, Kip.” Anjali sat on her usual bar stool and sipped her rum and cola. “They’re all over our house and our store. Even my bathroom isn’t mine anymore. My poor brother’s been uprooted from his room and installed in the basement.”

Kip gave her his most sympathetic look as he filled two large mugs with beer from the tap. “Sorry to hear that.”

“No sorrier than I am.” She played with a cardboard coaster with the black-and-red Rowling Rok logo. “They’re buying fifty-one percent of the business and expanding it.”