Maggie knocked on the suite door; Jenn and Arun stood in the hallway behind her. Jenn had insisted on coming along, and Maggie welcomed the diversion. Claudia, in a fresh seersucker pantsuit, opened the door and invited them in. Two chairs had been drawn close to the couch; Roger sat in one of them. Jenn pecked her grandmother’s cheek and rushed to her grandfather to hug him. The old man’s eyes lit up and he raised both hands to hold her face. Maggie observed, once again, how affectionately he treated Jenn. During her own childhood, he had been a benign but distant presence.
Claudia sat in the inquisitor’s chair, and the three of them squeezed onto the couch, Jenn in the middle. The upholstery scratched Maggie’s calves. Claudia disliked air-conditioning, and the room felt stuffy. Faint music played behind a wall. She hoped her parents would be comfortable in New Rochelle’s best hotel, and in the present company.
Claudia spoke. “Tell us about yourself, young man.”
Arun sat straighter. He’d worn a short-sleeved shirt and tie—first tie Maggie had seen on him.
“I am thirty-one and an American citizen. I was born in India and educated in the United States. I met your granddaughter nearly two years ago in India when she visited the school where I was working. She appreciated my methods, and she traveled with me to share them with many other schools. We learned to love each other, and she has done me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife.”
Maggie had never heard Arun speak so concisely. She hoped her mother couldn’t read surprise on her face.
Claudia said, “How do you expect to make a living?”
“We share a philosophy of service. We intend to start a school and then a chain of schools. And we hope to raise children who will have perfect temperaments and wonderful curly hair.” He and Jenn looked smiles at each other. She took his hand.
Jenn said, “We’ll probably live in India because there’s more need there. But we’ll come back here to visit. Those perfect children will go to college here, for sure.”
Claudia frowned. “You want to be schoolteachers in India? You’ll never be able to afford college.”
Jenn said, “Grandma, we’ll find a way. We’re resourceful.”
Arun said, “I hope you will consider coming to our Indian wedding in July and meeting my parents. I think you will have more confidence in our prospects in the context of India. It would be my parents’ pleasure to host you.”
Claudia’s face softened a fraction. “We don’t travel due to my husband’s health.” She tilted her head toward Roger but kept eyes on Arun. “So your parents are wealthy?”
Maggie said, “Mother!”
Arun nodded and said, “My parents are ophthalmologists who run a clinic that serves many people free of charge. They are not wealthy but they are comfortable, and family is important to them. They want to show you that they will treat Jennifer as their own.”
For an instant, Claudia seemed nonplussed. She rearranged her body on the chair. “Why didn’t your parents come here?”
“It is a difficult time of year to leave the clinic, but Jenn wanted to marry on her birthday. My relatives have been planning the Hindu wedding for months, and they worry still that they don’t have enough time.” He looked at Jenn. “I will be happy to marry Jenn as often as she likes.”
Jenn said, “Twice will be enough for now.” To her grandmother, “I am so glad you’re here. It means a lot to me.” She turned to her grandfather. “Grandpa, did you hear?”
The old man shook his head no. In a whispery voice he said, “Good luck, honey.”
Claudia ignored him. “Will you raise your children as Hindus? I warn you, that would disturb my husband and me.”
“No, I respect Hindu tradition, as I do Christian tradition, but I do not observe. Jenn and I have discussed this, of course. We are in agreement that we will cultivate our children’s spiritual lives until they are old enough to take full custody of them. We will do as Jenn’s parents did. And mine.”
Roger’s chin drooped to his chest. Grasping the opportunity, Maggie said, “Dad’s falling asleep. Maybe we should go.” She stood. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five. If you need anything, call my cell.” The others rose. Jenn kissed both grandparents. Arun offered a handshake. Maggie opened the suite door, and Jenn and Arun stepped into the hall. Claudia called as Maggie was about to follow them.
“Margaret, come here for a minute.”
Maggie told Jenn that she’d meet them at the car and turned back.
Claudia stood beside Roger’s chair. “She reminds me of you. Stars in her eyes for a smooth talker. I suppose you approve?”
She needed caution. “Actually, I’m not comfortable with the marriage.”
“Then why don’t you object?”
“On what grounds?”
“He’s a foreigner, and he’ll never make a decent living.”
“He’s an American, and Jenn wants to do the same kind of work. It’s not my place to judge.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.” She slumped, looking limp and old, like her husband. “I won’t contradict you. She’s like you, and you turned out all right in the end.” She reached into the purse leaning on the chair leg at her feet and withdrew a check. “Here.”
Five hundred dollars, to Jennifer Adler. Claudia’s blessing, prepared in advance. Would it have been offered regardless of Arun’s words? “Thank you. I’ll give it to Jenn after the ceremony. She will be delighted.”
Maggie pecked her mother’s cheek and said good night. She slipped into the empty hallway as reactions tumbled through her. Why were encounters with her mother never simple? I thought you’d say something like that. Claudia meant that they lived in different moral worlds and that, by implication, Maggie’s was wanting. I won’t contradict you—meaning she would go along with the wedding nonetheless. She would be charitable, not tight lipped and long suffering as she had been at Maggie’s wedding so many years before. Was handing over the check an apology of sorts? Well, Jenn would be happy, the ultimate goal. You turned out all right in the end. Maggie could not remember the last time her mother had praised her, and it thrilled her, and she hated the fact that it did. She had struggled so long to remain indifferent to her mother’s sallies. She thought she’d grown independent of a mother’s love. But not so. She’s like you . . . No, at twenty-six Jenn was far more self-possessed. Did Claudia mean that both generations’ choice of mate disappointed her? If so, Maggie said mentally to her mother, I won’t let you steal an ounce of joy from Jenn, not now, not ever. She’s going her own way, and you will not demean her. She’s not me.
The cool night air felt good on her face. She saw the young couple leaning against her car, Arun’s mouth close to Jenn’s ear. She unlocked the car from a distance, and Jenn pushed Arun into the front passenger seat. Eyes down, Maggie went about the business of getting the car started and on the road. As she turned onto Webster Avenue, Arun said, “Do you think that your mother is satisfied? I followed Jenn’s instructions to be specific.”
“Did your parents really offer to bring them to India?”
“Not in so many words. But they have said many times that they want to unite our two families. I interpreted the situation for them. I am absolutely sure they would agree. You will like them, Maggie. They are kindred spirits.”
“What do you mean?”
“It has been my pleasure to get to know you these last few weeks. You are like my mother: you get things done without fuss, and you put other people first. I admire you.”
“You flatter me.” She distrusted his words, distrusted her mother-bruised ability to understand.
“If I had said this when we first met, it would have been flattery. But now it’s truth.”
“Did you tell my mother the truth?”
Arun drew back as if offended. “I am sorry if my method displeased you, but I represented my parents’ interests faithfully. Truth has many dimensions, I have found.”
“To answer your question, I think my
mother is satisfied tonight. I don’t predict tomorrow.” Wanting the conversation to end, she made a show of changing lanes.
Jenn, leaning in from the backseat, said, “Fair enough. Thanks for taking us to see them, Mom.” She leaned back. Arun swiveled to look at her. After a beat, he faced front and hunkered into the seat. They rolled quietly down Webster, peaceful this time of night.
Maggie thought that Arun had succeeded with Claudia. He’d been more forthcoming than she’d expected . . . because he had followed Jenn’s instructions? Perhaps he was more malleable than he seemed, certainly toward Jenn if not the rest of the world. Still, she didn’t trust him. She shook herself mentally, reminding herself to pay attention to the road. The next forty-eight hours would unfold regardless of her cares. Time had a way of creating wounds as well as healing them.
Maggie turned off the light in the kitchen and prepared to mount the stairs. Passing the living room, she saw Arun alone, bent over a glowing computer screen. His face was knotted in concentration. She paused on the threshold, then seized the moment. “May I interrupt? I’ve been meaning to ask you a question about your work.”
Arun punched buttons and closed the machine. “Of course. What would you like to know?”
“Jenn has only talked in generalities. What precisely do you do?”
“Our goal is to teach habits of mind from an Eastern perspective that can be beneficial to young people who need to figure out where they belong in global consumer culture. They must learn to look inside, and to nature, for self-satisfaction. They won’t learn how to lead a good life from video and film.”
“Yes, but how does that relate to microfinance?”
Arun leaned back and crossed his legs; his face was open. “When we started working with kids in Delhi, we saw that we had to work with their families too, or our efforts would be contradicted. Especially the mothers, who have little schooling and no sense of possibilities. The microfinance organizations give these women a way to make money, and that gives them power. They use it to help their children first, before they get a new sari, before they allow their husbands to squander it. When we can work with the whole family, then we make great strides.”
“How do you do it?”
“In many small ways. Like your therapy dog. We are present to redirect their thinking when challenges arise. We start with the mother. When she develops confidence, then she wants to send her children to our school. If all goes well, she uses more of our services, and then we educate the husband. Sexual abuse is rampant in India too. Some men do not understand the motives for their actions, but we have ways to enlighten them.”
“You keep saying ‘we.’ What does Jenn do? She doesn’t know India.”
Arun clasped hands in front of his heart. “Jenn is my inspiration. Her compassion is so deep and pure, she can talk with anyone. I watch her and I am guided by her. We are developing this practice together. You must come see our model in action.”
“Perhaps I will.” She stepped toward the stairs. “Good night.”
As she changed out of her clothes and into a nightshirt, she thought that, to be fair, some of what Arun said made sense. At the shelter, she had often wanted to get at the kids’ mothers, either to hug them or smack sense into them, but it wasn’t protocol. She tried to imagine what sex education looked like in the Indian context. The course she had taken didn’t help; everything about India, including various theories about retaining semen, seemed maddeningly complex. Perhaps Arun really did take cues from Jenn, who could be single-minded and powerful, like her father at his best. She might have to see for herself to set her mind, and her heart, at ease.
As she slipped between the bedclothes, Paul appeared on the threshold looking drained.
“I want to kill him.”
She sat up to hear him out.
“I said if he really loved Jenn, he wouldn’t make her live in poverty. Son of a bitch laughed in my face and said, ‘Too little, too late.’ I swear he wanted me to hit him. Prove I’m a bastard. I will stop this farce.”
“No, you won’t. Not on the eve of the wedding.”
“She’s got to see what a mistake he is.”
“She’s made her choice. Live with it.”
“How can you say that?”
“She’s a grown woman. I choose to trust her. You should too. Maybe her world is wider than ours was. Or just different. He’s right, it’s too late.”
“I don’t get it. Yesterday you hated him.”
“That was last month. I’m moving on. Are you coming to bed?”
Paul turned on his heel and disappeared. She turned off the light and slid beneath the covers. Yes, she could learn to live with Jenn’s decision. But could she continue to live with Paul’s incompetence as a father? And a husband? Eyes closed, she waited for sleep.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Lenny squinted out the window at the practice putting green and the first tee beyond it. His bifocal sunglasses lay on the table in front of him. Paul thought the shirt with wide pink stripes might have looked good on a younger man, but it made Lenny, with florid face and potbelly, look clownish. No matter; his brother would be on his side. When the waiter came round, they ordered draft beer. At four o’clock on Saturday, they had the club restaurant to themselves.
Lenny had shown up at the house just after lunch, smiling and making small talk about the wedding. He had slapped Arun on the back and chucked Jenn under the chin. He’d bussed Maggie and Sarah, whom he didn’t know, and asked about the in-laws. When Paul suggested a beer at the club, he jumped at the idea, saying how good it would be to catch up with his little bro. Maggie told them to make it back by five thirty for the rehearsal. Maggie had never warmed to Lenny. She criticized his extravagance and his divorces. Paul loved Lenny; Lenny understood how far Paul had come.
The waiter brought two beers and a bowl of peanuts. Lenny’s wide fist covered the bowl as he scooped up a handful. He threw a bunch of nuts into his mouth. Chewing, he said, “Didn’t have time to get lunch. Not that I need it.” Lenny patted his belly with the other hand. “This will tide me over. I like this place. Been a member long?”
“I don’t come here anymore. Maggie keeps the membership for her women’s things.”
“You could’ve had the wedding here.”
“Jenn said she wanted the backyard because it symbolizes family. Maggie was all over it. Listen, Len, I need advice.”
Lenny put the remaining nuts back in the bowl and licked his fingers. “Nothing you can do. Just roll with it, and hope there are no kids before the divorce. My daughter didn’t learn anything from me. She made the same mistakes.”
“It’s not about Jenn. It’s work.” He swallowed the bad taste in his mouth. “I’m the victim of a witch hunt.”
Lenny’s face sobered up. “What are you talking about?”
“The hospital provost got a call from a competitor of mine questioning some of my results. Important results. More than important—groundbreaking. He started an investigation, and he’s picking on my research associate. He’ll rattle her into saying something damaging, and I need to stop him.” Lenny didn’t know science, but he understood backbiting.
Lenny leaned in. “Why’s he after you?”
“He’s jealous. We overlapped in graduate school. He can’t stand the fact that I’m doing great science while he pushes paper and sucks up to the rich. I think Maggie could get to him, but she won’t. Do you think I should get an injunction?” He leaned over his untouched beer.
“Have you got anything on him?”
“No. He signs off on my budget.”
Lenny sat back. “Wait a minute. You say your wife can stop him? Get her to do it. Simple is best.”
“She won’t. Too busy with the wedding.” The excuse sounded as lame to him as it must to Lenny. His throat was closing up.
“Did you tell her he’s screwing you?”
“She takes his side. Has done for years.”
Lenny smirked. “Is something going
on between them? Not that I would blame her. God knows you’ve taken your share of liberties.”
Paul’s mind spun as his throat squeezed tighter. Maggie was too straitlaced, and Stamford too repulsive. And you never saw him with a woman. But why did she make allowances for him whenever he interfered?
“No. Maggie’s angry about other stuff, so she’s taking it out on me now,” which, he told himself, was the likely explanation. Likely, but not proven. He recalled Maggie and Stamford getting cozy at hospital parties. She called him Robert, the name rolling off her tongue so easily. His chest contracted.
“I see,” Lenny said. “Well, take it from me. If you get a lawyer involved, it’ll cost you plenty. It’s like going to war, believe me, and it’ll take years. This is the voice of experience talking. You’re better off negotiating.”
“You can’t negotiate science.”
“You can negotiate anything. Want me to try?” Lenny opened his hands wide as if receiving a blessing.
Paul recalled the times Lenny had negotiated successfully for him: getting a loan over and above the GI Bill, keeping their father out of his way until the old man’s liver exploded, helping him get out of a sticky affair at Michigan before Maggie arrived. And then, the big one: it was Lenny who coached him, behind the scenes, when Stamford first approached about bringing his lab into the hospital. Lenny practically forced Paul to demand an unprecedented subsidy for the whole team. He had Lenny to thank for years of breathing room. Breathing room now in jeopardy. No, Lenny could take Stamford out in a fistfight, but not in a battle of words. Yeah, he was right about the legal route—too slow. With the conference four weeks away, Maggie had to help, for Chrissake. He needed her more than ever before. “No, I’ll handle it. Monday after everyone’s gone, I’ll get Maggie in gear, one way or another.”
Lenny closed his big, square hands around his beer glass. “I can help, you know. You can count on me.”
For a long two seconds, he thought Lenny might have a magic touch. Then he snapped back to reality. He’d have to be crazy to think Lenny could handle Stamford. Or utterly desperate, which was not the case.
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