The Sari Shop Widow (37 page)

A dry laugh emerged from Jeevan’s throat, ending in a mild coughing fit. “Anju, I have believed in that boy since the time he was born,” he rasped. “I am willing to put my life and all my money in his hands. He is more than a son to me. He takes better care of me than my sons.”

“I don’t doubt his love and devotion to you. It’s the other part of his life I have reservations about.”

“Has he ever told you any lies?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to test him yet. But tell me this: why would a practical, intelligent woman like Samantha call him for help instead of a bank, and in the dead of night, unless they still had some ties to each other?”

“They have business ties. Her company does his advertising and public relations.”

“What does that have to do with Rishi loaning her a huge sum of money?”

“Rishi is a kind fellow and very loyal. Don’t you see that?” Jeevan sounded testy.

“I’m trying.”

“So try harder.” He gave her a moment or two to chew on that. “Do you want to be alone for the rest of your life, Anju?”

She turned the question over for a minute. Did she want to live alone? Did she want to die a lonely, frustrated old maid, using the Kip Rowlings of the world to appease the occasional need? At the same time, was it worth marrying a man she had a difficult time trusting, just so she could have a husband?

“No woman likes to be lonely,” she allowed. “But sometimes it’s better than living with a man who might break your heart.”

“Remember one thing,
beta
: everyone has to make choices in life. Sometimes we make good ones, sometimes bad, but every choice comes with…uh…” He seemed to fumble for the right word.

“Consequences?” Anjali prompted.

“Yes. You must trust someone in your life besides God, should you not? Otherwise what is life?”

“You’re a wise man, Jeevan-kaka, but I’m too afraid to take a big step like marriage once again…especially to a man I can’t trust.”

“Do you love Rishi?”

She had barely acknowledged the fact to herself, let alone told anyone else about it. It took her a whole second to reply. “Yes.”
Desperately
.

A small smile touched Jeevan-kaka’s parched-looking lips. “I knew that.”

“How?” Was she that transparent that even her uncle could read her?

“I’m not blind, you know.”

“Jeevan-kaka, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you ask Rishi to accompany you just so you could bring him and me together?”

The old man closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes and no,” he admitted. “He is excellent at solving business problems, so I wanted him to help you with the shop. I also think Rishi needs a good wife and you need a good husband.” He smiled at her, the missing tooth reminding her of the gap in their backyard fence that had yet to be repaired. “And I believe you are suited well for each other.”

“Did Rishi know why you asked him to come to the U.S.?”

“He knew it was business related, but I don’t think he knew about the personal reasons.”

“So while you’ve been pretending to be here solely to help us out of a financial jam, you’ve been doing some serious matchmaking.”

Jeevan dissolved into laughter—something unusual for him. It also meant he was feeling better. “Jam is a good word—just like in our language we say
chutney
.” It took a second for the mirth to subside. “Anju, if I tell you a secret, can you keep it to yourself?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“I want you to promise me that you will not tell this to your parents until after I die.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Exactly what devious plot are you hatching now?”

“Beta
, you know the money I invested in your—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “It’s a lot, and we’re very grateful for the loan. Don’t worry; we’ll make sure we return it with interest as soon as we can. I promise.”

Tears appeared in the old man’s eyes. Gone was the earlier amusement. “The money is not a loan; it is a gift to all of you. I don’t want you to return it.”

Anjali sat up straight, her eyes wide. “What are you talking about? We can’t take your money.”

“This is my last wish for my brother and his family, Anju. I am planning to give some cash to Naren also. I want him to pay off the mortgage on his motel. But I don’t want any of them to know.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

“Because you worry too much about the store and the money you think you owe me. You will refuse to marry Rishi and go to London just for that reason. You will insist on staying here and making sure you pay me back. At least if I tell you the truth, you can stop worrying about your financial obligations.”

“I see.” He was right. The huge debt was one of the major reasons for her wanting to remain in New Jersey. But according to her uncle it was no longer a debt. Guilt was a mild word to describe what she felt in that instant. For all the rotten names she’d called Jeevan-kaka and all the accusations she’d made against him, she wanted to shrivel up and die. In his own way, he was one of the most generous men in the world. “I feel awful about taking your hard-earned savings.”

“I have plenty of money, Anju. My children, my grandchildren, and their children have enough to lead a luxurious life. It makes me happy to help my brothers to become more secure. If I am to die soon, I want to do my duty to my family—and to God.”

“What about the money Rishi has invested in the store?”

“All the cash is mine. Rishi’s contribution was to come here, stay at his own cost, and provide free advice.”

Mulling over that for a while, Anjali wondered exactly how much Rishi had spent—and was still spending on this venture. He’d been in an expensive hotel for weeks, he had leased an automobile, and he traveled strictly in business class. Considering all those things and four and a half months’ worth of his valuable time, his contribution was sizeable. It probably added up to somewhere in the same range as Jeevan-kaka’s share, perhaps more. She had no idea what Rishi’s standard consulting fees were.

It was too much for her to accept as charity.

However, at the moment, her uncle’s sad and pleading eyes compelled her to consider his offer. He used the sleeve of his shirt to dry his eyes. The simple gesture brought a lump to Anjali’s throat. She tried hard to swallow it, but couldn’t.

“In that case I accept,” she murmured. “And I promise not to tell Mom and Dad until…until…” Now that she’d had a glimpse of what lay deep inside Jeevan-kaka’s heart, she wanted to hold on to him a while longer, get to know the man she’d despised all her life, make it up to him in some small measure if she could. Instead, she sat beside him and cried her heart out.

“Why are you crying so much,
beta
?” He looked more tired than ever when he spoke again. “Get married, Anju. I can’t promise that God will be kind to you. Nobody can promise that, but take an old man’s advice. My life would be worthless without my wife and my children and grandchildren. A business will not give you a family, and hard work will not give you true contentment. You listen to me now, okay? Get married, have children, be happy.”

Watching his parchment-like eyelids begin to droop, Anjali slid off the bed. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. Now go get some sleep.” He turned onto his side, clearly dismissing her.

She adjusted his blanket. “Rest well,” she whispered. Within a minute he was snoring lightly. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder. Despite all the outward gruffness and bluster, he was a man with a heart. The sad thing was she hadn’t thought to look for it all these years. Now that she’d finally discovered it underneath those crusty layers, it was much too late. Rishi, on the other hand, had glimpsed it when he was only a boy.

The door opened softly and her mother stuck her head in. “How is he?” she whispered.

“Fine
,” mouthed Anjali and put a finger over her lips to shush her. She tiptoed over to the lamp and shut it off before stepping outside and closing the door.

“He talked to me for a while and then went to sleep,” she whispered to her mother, hoping the dark hallway would keep her puffy eyes hidden. “I don’t think it’s necessary to watch him anymore. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

Usha shook her head. “But I’m wide-awake now.”

“So am I.” Any thoughts of sleep had vanished after that emotional talk with her uncle.

“I think I’ll make some tea.” Usha looked at her. “You want any?”

“Sure. I’ll keep you company.” Feeling a sudden chill, Anjali pulled her robe closer around herself.

They walked downstairs together and Usha put the water and milk on the boil. She turned to Anjali and stared for a second. “You’ve been crying.”

Anjali shrugged. “Had a rather emotional tête-à-tête with Jeevan-kaka.”

Usha’s eyebrows were raised. “Must have been serious if he made you cry.”

“I’m beginning to think I misjudged him all these years.”

“So am I.” Usha let out a deep sigh. “I feel terrible about it.”

“I know. That’s why I was crying. I’ve never really talked to him in the real sense. He’s a good man when you get to know him.”

Adding the right blend of spices to the pot, Usha glanced at her. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave him alone?”

“He’s asleep and snoring.” Anjali got out the cups and the sugar.

“Hope he doesn’t insist on getting out of bed soon and performing his
pooja
,” Usha said. “He needs his rest.”

Meanwhile Anjali rummaged through the pantry for a light snack. Finally settling on an oatmeal cookie, she started nibbling. “I think he’s too exhausted to wake up anytime soon. Our little talk seemed to tire him out.”

“What did you talk about?” Usha absently added the tea leaves and stirred the pot, but Anjali heard the probing note.

She hesitated. “Mostly about Rishi.”

“You mean about Rishi and you.”

“He mentioned your conversation with Rishi the other day.” She eyed her mother, who was still busy pretending indifference. “Want to tell me about it?”

The tea came to a boil and the froth rose to the top. Usha stirred it again to let the bubbles settle before shutting off the burner. “You really want to know?” She deftly strained the tea into the two cups Anjali had set on the counter.

“Uh-huh.” Carrying the steaming cups to the table, Anjali set them down and pulled out a chair for herself and another for her mother.

Settling in the chair, Usha took a sip of tea and studied Anjali for a long, speculative second. “Rishi told us that he asked you to marry him.”

“Jeevan-kaka told me that part.”

“Then you already know what we discussed.”

“Not really. I know Jeevan-kaka’s all enthused about Rishi marrying me. But let’s face it, he’s an old man who thinks all of mankind should be in pairs, and if his adopted son ends up marrying his niece, it’ll all be in the family.” Popping the last bit of cookie into her mouth, Anjali picked up her cup and held it in both hands, letting its heat seep into her cold palms. “I want to hear what you and Dad talked about with Rishi. I want to hear
your
side of it.”

“I think your uncle is right. Rishi’s a decent, solid, and dependable man. He’ll be good for you.”

Despite her gloomy mood, Anjali smiled. “You make him sound like a sturdy station wagon with an eight-cylinder engine and a roomy luggage compartment.”

Laughter bubbled out of Usha’s throat. “You know what I mean, you silly girl.”

“I know what you mean.” In their culture, Rishi was the ideal potential husband. Most women would need to have their heads examined if they thumbed their noses at a gem like Rishi. Anjali angled an amused look at her mother. It wasn’t often that her mother laughed with abandon, so it was nice to hear the sound.

“Plus he’s so nice-looking,” her mom reminded her.

And sexy as ever
. Anjali’s mind drifted to the two brief nights she’d spent with him. “Sure,” was the extent of her response. It wouldn’t do to use the word
sexy
to describe Rishi to her mother.

“And don’t forget he’s well-to-do.”

“There is that.” It was an important criterion for a potential Gujarati groom. A healthy income made him all the more attractive.

“In all seriousness, I think he’ll make a good husband,” stressed Usha. “He didn’t lie to us or hide anything about his relationship with Samantha. He said it was just something that happened between two single people, but now he’s met you and he wants to marry and settle down.”

“Since when have you become a champion of casual relationships?”

“I don’t condone his past relationship with Samantha, but I realized I don’t have a right to judge him either, because I don’t know much about the younger generation born and brought up in western cultures. Their values are a little different from ours, and besides, his mother is British.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Kip Rowling came to mind. If her mom were to discover that Anjali had been having a
casual
affair with an acknowledged womanizer, God knows what she’d do.

Usha cupped Anjali’s face in her hand. “Rishi has promised to put all that behind him and be faithful to you. That’s all that matters to your dad and me. We want you to have a good life. You’ve suffered so much these last few years. Don’t give up a chance for happiness because of jealousy and distrust.”

Anjali continued to hold the cup in the circle of her hands. She needed the warmth. “What’ll happen to the store if I go off and live in London? Who’s going to help Dad and you with all that extra work that comes with a bigger and better store?”

“Your dad and I had a store since before you were born. We managed then and we can manage now. Besides, we have Sejal and a full staff. Rishi reminded us last evening that in a few months Sejal will be graduating, and she definitely plans on working at the store full-time.”

“She told you that?”

“Rishi has already talked to her about it, and she’s very eager to take on more responsibilities.”

“When did he talk to Sejal?”

“When he fell in love with you and started to think about asking you to marry him. He knows you’re worried about the future of Silk & Sapphires; he had to have a possible solution to all your objections before he proposed to you.” Usha explained to Anjali some of what he’d said that night.