“Good. What time did you have in mind?” I was already trying to think of ways to explain the situation to my mother, without her jumping to insane conclusions. She’d have me married by Monday morning and pregnant with twins by the end of the year. I guess I’d have to tell a whopper again.
“How about if we pick you up around nine-thirty?” he suggested. “We can take the kids to McDonald’s for breakfast and go from there.”
“I’ll meet you at your house instead,” I offered quickly. “And I’ll bring the spreadsheet with your best matrimonial responses.” It killed me to say that, but I had to.
“Oh yeah? How do the prospects look?”
“Uh ... one or two look good. You’ll see tomorrow.” To lighten the mood I asked, “How do you expect to drive the four of us in your Corvette, Prajay?” Was I to sit in his lap perhaps?
“My brother and I are going to exchange vehicles. I get to drive his SUV, and he and Nitya get to go to the wedding in my car.”
“Sensible plan.”
“Nitya thinks she can recapture their honeymooning days when the two of them had a sports car.”
“That’s so romantic ... and sweet.” I could only dream of that. And try as I might to dispel the thought, the guy sitting next to me in a sports car in my fantasy was Prajay. The man was on my mind much too much. Maybe it had to do with riding with him to the office when my ankle was injured. He had grown on me like ivy on a stone wall.
Well, at least I was going to have another chance to ride with him, even if it meant having two active kids in the backseat.
When I hung up, it was with a silly grin on my face. I looked up Google Maps on my computer, typed in his home address, and got the directions.
I couldn’t wait for next morning. Sleep was hard to come by, too. Images of roller coasters and ice cream cones, and of playing pretend wife to Prajay and aunt to his nephew and niece kept me awake through most of the night.
I woke up the next morning with a tired face, but a hot shower perked me up.
When Dad saw me enter the kitchen in jeans and a sweatshirt, already showered and with my makeup on, he looked up from his newspaper with a puzzled frown. I very rarely stirred out of bed before ten on weekends.
“I’m going to Great Adventure with some friends, Dad,” I said in response to that inquisitive look. “Where’s Mom?”
“Emergency.”
“Another rough delivery?”
“Ruptured fallopian tube or something. She left before five in the morning.”
I groaned, feeling sorry for the woman with the fallopian tube mishap, and for my mother. Poor Mom—she rarely got to enjoy a full night’s sleep or an entire movie. And yet she thought medicine was the most wonderful profession on earth. Now that was dedication.
“I’ll be late coming home, Dad, so don’t hold dinner for me, okay? Call me on my cell if you need to get in touch.”
He put his newspaper down and gave me his full attention. “Who all are going to this theme park?”
Was my eagerness showing that much? Dad wasn’t generally as perceptive as Mom. “The usual gang,” I said breezily and reeled off half a dozen names. Dad was familiar with them but never remembered their last names. Nonetheless my sense of security was short-lived.
“How come you kids suddenly planned this Great Adventure trip? After you went to college you thought it was too childish.”
“Recapturing our youth before the gray hairs set in, Dad.” I gave him a cheeky grin.
“Hmm.” He adjusted his glasses over his nose. “Stay away from those goondas who do drugs. And stick to the brightly lit areas.”
“Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll be fine.” I gave him a light peck on the cheek and took off. He had already returned to his New York Times and his cup of tea.
Had Dad actually looked pleased at the prospect of my being away for the day? I believe he secretly looked forward to a quiet afternoon. I knew for a fact that Mom and Dad’s weekend evenings were usually packed with social events involving other Indian families.
And I was eagerly looking forward to my day at the park.
Chapter 12
Despite my excitement about the day ahead, I was nervous about meeting Prajay’s brother and sister-in-law. They were fellow Konkanis and likely to suspect the exact thing that Prajay and I were trying to avoid: that we were romantically involved.
They could be snobs, too. I knew nothing about Prajay’s family. I couldn’t turn around and go home, either, now that I’d made a commitment.
Ten minutes later I pulled into the condominium complex and parked my car in one of the unnumbered spots. I locked my car and stood for a moment to study the three modern, multi-story buildings positioned in a semicircle around the spacious courtyard.
The neat, crisp landscaping had obviously been designed by a professional. Chrysanthemums in various shades and ornamental cabbage bordered the shrubbery and shady patches beneath the fall-tinted trees. Two handsome wrought iron benches lent a certain romantic charm to the scene. The sprinklers were on at the moment, making those lush patches of grass sparkle like beds of emeralds.
The compound had an aura of quiet luxury, but I didn’t hear children’s voices or see tricycles or any other signs typical of a family neighborhood. This appeared to be an enclave built for upwardly mobile singles and couples with no kids. I wondered if Prajay had picked it for that very reason.
I checked the numbers on the buildings and took the elevator to the third floor of the one on my right. Before I could ring the bell, the door was opened by a young boy dressed in faded jeans and a gray sweatshirt with MIT printed on the front.
The Nayak boys obviously started young in their hunt for outstanding universities. The boy’s gray sneakers looked well-worn and scuffed. The kid was exceptionally tall for an eight-year-old. It was like looking at a miniature Prajay.
“Prajay-bappa, she’s here!” he yelled to his uncle.
Prajay replied from somewhere inside the house. “Invite her in and ask her to sit down. I’ll be right there.”
I smiled at the boy. “Hi. I’m Meena. You must be Rahul?”
He didn’t return the smile. Instead he continued to stand in the doorway, giving me a very cautious and thorough once-over that reminded me again of Prajay. This was probably what Prajay had done as a boy when he first met someone. He most likely still scrutinized potential customers and business associates with the same kind of attention.
Finally the boy said, “Hi. Prajay-bappa’s combing my sister’s hair.”
I bit back the grin. Prajay combing a little girl’s hair? This I had to see.
Rahul opened the door wider and let me in. “He says you should sit down.”
“Thanks.” I was immediately drawn into the very male living room. It was much larger than I’d expected. The condo had to have more than one bedroom and bath. It looked like Prajay’s home took up a major portion of this floor.
The two couches and two matching chairs were massive, upholstered in cinnamon-colored leather. The floor was polished oak, with a cream area rug placed under the simple coffee table. No feminine touches like throw pillows or knickknacks anywhere.
The cream vertical blinds on the large picture window made the sunlight fall in golden diagonal stripes across the rug. An entertainment center containing a giant-screen TV and a stereo system took up the better part of one wall. A watercolor landscape hung above a modern gas fireplace.
On the mantel sat several family photos. My heart warmed as soon as my eyes fell on those.
So, this was how bachelor entrepreneurs lived: basic, but surrounded by refined comfort. I’d probably start purring like a kitten if I were to kick off my sneakers and sink into one of those deep, deep leather couches and close my eyes.
I turned to the staring Rahul. “Does your uncle need any help with your sister?” I wondered where the kids’ parents were. Why wasn’t the mother combing her daughter’s hair?
Just then Prajay came out, dressed
in gray Dockers, a black rugby shirt, and sneakers. Even in casual clothes, he looked distinguished.
A plump little girl was holding on to his hand. She wore jeans in a soft shade of pink, paired with a strawberry pullover sweater. She had on princess sneakers with neon-pink shoelaces. Her dark, wavy hair was a mess, and her lips were set in a fussy pout.
“Sorry, Meena,” said Prajay, “but I have no idea how to do pigtails. When Prakash and Nitya left, Riya wanted to leave her hair down, but now she’s decided she wants pigtails.” He shrugged helplessly. “Unfortunately her mom and dad had to leave early.”
It was a relief to know I didn’t have to meet Prakash and Nitya Nayak. “Girls are known to change their minds sometimes, Prajay,” I explained. “It’s all part of being a woman.” Riya seemed to approve of my explanation, because I saw her nod, and the pout became less pronounced.
I assessed the present situation and Riya’s rumpled halo of hair for a second, then held my hand out to her. “Want me to do your hair, Riya?”
Just like her brother had done a minute ago, Riya stared at me, her dark eyes traveling over every inch of me. Her hand remained clutching her uncle’s. Riya’s face still had some baby fat, but someday she’d be a pretty girl, when those Nayak limbs turned long and lithe and the flab turned to supple muscle.
“I want scrunchies in my hair,” she announced. A girl who knew exactly what she wanted.
I nodded. “No problem. I like scrunchies, too, whenever I put my hair up. You got any of your own?”
“Uh-huh. Mommy packed them in my bag.” I must have passed inspection, because she let go of Prajay’s hand and reached for mine. “Want to see?”
“Sure.” Obviously Riya was friendlier than her suspicious brother. I winked at a grateful-looking Prajay and took Riya’s hand, then let her lead me down the passageway into what looked like a guest room.
Again, the room was large for a condo, with a sunburst window. A king-sized bed with a blue and white geometric-pattern bedspread claimed center stage. The headboard was washed oak. A matching dresser and mirror completed the décor. The room was carpeted in pastel blue to coordinate with the blinds.
On the dresser, I saw an open plastic sandwich bag containing scrunchies in various colors. A pink comb lay next to it. A kid-size princess suitcase lay open on the bed, with its contents spilling out. I went straight for the dresser and glanced at Riya. “Which color did you have in mind?”
“Rose pink.”
A kid who knew her colors. I heartily approved. She’d be an efficient shopper someday. I dumped all the scrunchies on the dresser top and started sorting through them. “Let’s see if we can find a matching pair here.” Every shade of pink under the sun was there. The child seemed obsessed with pink.
I had a feeling Riya’s room at home was entirely done in pink. I recalled my own childhood, when I wanted everything purple. Lord knows how many sets of clothes I had in mauve, lilac, lavender, and eggplant.
When I located two matching scrunchies I took the comb and turned Riya around so her back was facing me. Prajay and Rahul came into the room to stand with their arms crossed over their chests to observe me at work.
“You know what you two look like?” I said to the guys, keeping my eyes on my handiwork as I parted Riya’s hair and smoothed the two sides. “That classic poster where a dog and a mini version of him are shown sitting side by side, watching TV together with their heads cocked to one side.”
Prajay glanced at his nephew, then laughed and let his arms fall to his sides. “We Nayak men are all cut from the same mold. If it’s a boy he’s got to have the thick eyebrows and the extra-long legs.”
They both watched me comb and secure Riya’s hair into two neat, tight pigtails. I was done in less than two minutes.
“Wow, how’d you do that so quickly?” Prajay asked.
I gave a smug smile and patted Riya’s head. “It’s all in the fingers.” To prove my point I held up my hands and wiggled them. “Magic fingers. I bet Riya has them, too.”
Riya giggled with delight and imitated my gesture.
Rahul rolled his eyes at us and ran his hand over his own crew cut. “Boys go to the barber and get a proper cut.” I noticed he had a missing tooth replaced by a new half-grown one.
Riya made a face at her brother. “Mommy says Daddy and you have boring hairstyles. She says boys don’t know how to be creative.” The way she said it, it sounded more like “quivative.”
“Pigtails are not creative; they’re for pigs,” declared her brother.
Prajay stepped in deftly and put an end to the bickering before it could escalate. “All right, who’s ready for a McDonald’s breakfast and Looney Tunes Seaport?”
“Me,” cried Riya, raising her hand. Rahul was clearly a McDonald’s fan, too, because he raced out to the living room with an excited grin, his sister close on his heels.
I looked at Prajay. “Looney Tunes Seaport?”
“Rahul discovered it. Ever since I mentioned Great Adventure last night, he’s been on the Internet, doing research. He was up late, making a list of what he wanted to do today. The kid’s good at computers and researching stuff,” said Prajay.
“Of course he is. You were probably just like that at his age.”
“Not that bright,” he assured me. “Come on, let’s go.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I’m hungry for a breakfast sandwich myself. What’s your favorite?”
“Pancakes with butter and syrup.”
“You can have a double order of pancakes,” he promised.
Just then I remembered something. “Who needs to go potty before we start?” I asked the kids.
Prajay gave me an appreciative look. “Good thought. Looks like you’ve done this before.”
“I did some babysitting as a teenager.”
Riya said she needed a little help, so I went with her to the powder room while her brother went to use another bathroom. Then we all grabbed our respective jackets and headed out. Even before Prajay had the front door locked, the kids were impatiently tapping on the elevator button.
Prajay’s brother’s SUV was one of those humongous black vehicles. Inside, there was plenty of room for the four of us and then some. For once, there seemed to be enough space to accommodate Prajay’s legs.
Breakfast wasn’t as chaotic an experience as I’d expected. Prajay was right about the kids being well behaved. Although they bickered like most siblings, they were neat eaters and very hungry. They polished off every last bit of their food and beverages. Rahul surprised me by cleaning up after his sister and getting rid of the trash in the receptacle and returning the tray to its rightful place.
Unfortunately the traffic going to the park was heavy. No surprise, with the great weather. Besides, a couple of weeks from now the park would be closing for the season, and it seemed like every family with children was headed for the same destination.
The kids were getting edgy by the time we finally found a parking spot in the sea of cars and walked toward the park’s main gate. It was past eleven-thirty. That still gave us nearly the whole day to frolic.
Inside the park, it somehow became an unspoken agreement that Rahul would stay close to Prajay while Riya would hang on to me. We went on family rides nonstop for the next five hours. Of course, standing in long lines to get on those rides factored into that time, but the kids were relentless, especially Rahul.
He was disappointed that we couldn’t get on the grown-up rides and the awesome roller coaster called Kingda Ka, touted as the ultimate in roller coasters, a behemoth that traveled at insane speeds. His sister didn’t meet the height requirement mandated by the park and the public safety laws.
But Rahul was determined to make the most of the day. He was practically bouncing on his toes while waiting in the lines. Once in a while he threw longing looks at Kingda Ka in the distant background, clearly visible because of its altitude, its cars thundering down the ramp every few minutes with their screaming cargos of teenagers
and adults.
We rode something called Blackbeard’s Lost Treasure Train—a smaller roller coaster that had Riya humming with joy as the wind whipped through her hair and pulled some of it out of her pigtails. We went on cable cars, carousels, and water rides that dampened our clothes at times.
Whenever one of the rides got a little wild, Riya unconsciously huddled closer to me. I held her, enjoying the warmth of the child and the clean toddler smell of her silky hair.
Before we went on our discovery of the Rockwall, Riya and I decided we needed a trip to the girls’ room. A long line had formed there, too.
Once again I was surprised at how good the little girl was about taking care of her personal needs. Other than giving some minor help and making sure that she washed her hands thoroughly, I had to do very little for her.
By the time we came out, the boys were not only done with their own trip to the men’s room, but they were waiting for us with cones bursting with rich chocolate ice cream and a big plastic tray of nachos with cheese and salsa. Riya fell on the food with a whoop. That’s when I realized we hadn’t had any lunch. I had been having so much fun I hadn’t bothered to check my watch—until now.
It was nearly five o’clock. The sun had already lost some of its punch, and the air was cooler. I felt a pang at the thought of the day coming to an end. I hadn’t enjoyed an outing this much since I was about fourteen years old.
I’d learned a lot about Prajay, too. He was patient but firm, indulgent but cautious with the kids. And they seemed to adore him. Whenever one of them acted too wild, all he had to do was give him or her a stern look and the child quieted instantly.
Until now I’d only seen his business side, the one that wore smart clothes, conducted meetings, and gave orders to his employees. This Prajay was a different man, a laid-back, family-oriented bappa who seemed to dote on his nephew and niece. So far, I liked both the Prajays. A lot.
While Rahul and Riya climbed the Rockwall, Prajay and I sat on a bench and kept an eye on them. Prajay touched my arm lightly. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been great as my co-babysitter.”
The Reluctant Matchmaker Page 11