Authors: Shobhan Bantwal

The Reluctant Matchmaker (27 page)

BOOK: The Reluctant Matchmaker

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He made a face. “Better to know before than
after
we'd been married.”

“Were you ... uh ... did you love her?”

“I don't know if it was love. I liked her a lot, and we got along well, so naturally I was furious when she broke up with me.” He paused for a moment. “Everyone in the community knew about us. She was pretty and bright and a lot of fun. But I always felt like she was holding something back from me. I didn't know what it was then, but it made sense afterward. She was in love with someone else.”

“So, did she marry the boyfriend?”

Ajit nodded. “Soon after we split up. I understand she's expecting a baby in the spring.” He spoke in detached terms, but I could see a lingering something in his dark brown eyes. Was it sadness? Regret?

“How do you feel about it?”

“It's been over two years. I wish her well,” he said, assuring me he was fully recovered from whatever feelings he'd had for the other woman.

I admired Ajit's ability to forgive and forget. Most men wouldn't be quite so generous where their egos were concerned. He really had to be a decent person to have done that.

However, despite my sympathy for Ajit, I felt a certain camaraderie with his nameless fiancÃ©e. When a girl fell in love, she fell hard. No matter whom I ended up marrying, a part of my heart would stay with Prajay. It was silly to assume that now, but at the moment, it was the truth. Not even a devastatingly good-looking and charming man could come close to Prajay.

Our waitress came back a second time to check on our progress and, seeing we had finished eating, asked if I'd like to take my leftover salad home, to which I shook my head. Ajit asked me if I'd like to share a fried ice cream if he ordered one.

“Okay. Maybe a little,” I said, wanting to make him feel better. My sympathetic vibes and the maternal instinct to soothe a bruised ego were still humming. Poor, poor Ajit. Although he hadn't been deeply in love and he looked none the worse for the episode, his heart had been damaged a little.

The fried ice cream was excellent, so I ate nearly half of it, surprising both Ajit and myself. We had coffee with it, too. Whether it was the beer that warmed him up or something in my attitude, I couldn't say, but he seemed to open up to me some more. I learned that he had been working for the same company for six years. He owned a house in an upscale part of Connecticut, and he drove a Jaguar. Not bad for a thirty-two-year-old.

Since it was too windy and cold to take a walk outside, we lingered over coffee. Our lunch date went over two hoursâcloser to three. Since it wasn't crowded and we ordered more refills of coffee, the management didn't seem to want to shoo us out.

And Ajit Baliga seemed to become more appealing. Of course, it could have been a combination of the sangria, the good food, and the rich dessert that was making me more accepting of a man who wasn't Prajay. Whatever it was, it was a good feeling.

When I asked if I could split the bill the waitress handed him, Ajit flatly refused. “I never let a lady pay,” he assured me.

And that was fine with me. I thanked him for an enjoyable lunch.

It had been a fun date. I'd liked the sense of comfort I'd felt with Ajit. It was different from what I had felt with the other Konkani guys I'd gone out with. This man didn't seem full of himself.

I wondered how
he
felt about our meeting. He'd been pleasant and talkative and attentive, but he hadn't mentioned whether he was having a good time. Oh well, if nothing ever came of this, at least it had been a perfectly pleasant afternoon with a pleasant guy.

Outside the restaurant, Ajit smiled at me warmly. “Thanks for suggesting this place. The food was excellent.”

“Spicy enough for you?”

“Oh, yes.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked around, as if at a loss for words.

I stood awkwardly, with the wind wreaking havoc on my hair once again. “Thanks for a nice lunch, Ajit.”

“So ... um ... you want to do this again sometime?” he said finally, breaking a long silence.

“I'd like that. Call me.” I pulled out one of my business cards and a pen from my purse and wrote my cell number on the back of it for him. Then we started walking back in the direction of the station.

The wind was worse now, and thick black clouds were beginning to gather directly above us. “Looks like it might start raining any minute. Let's get a cab,” he said.

We flagged down a cab, hopped in, and settled in the seat, grateful for the warmth, all the way to Penn Station.

My train was earlier than his, so he saw me safely to mine. “I'll call you soon,” he said.

“Okay,” I said with a wave.

Ajit Baliga had potential. But why hadn't I felt anything other than warm skin against mine when Ajit had shaken my hand? Why had I been comparing him to Prajay in every way possible? Why had I kept recalling the meals I'd had with Prajay sitting across the table from me?

As the train started to move, Akka's warning started to bug me. What if Ajit had felt something for me?

Chapter 28

I
t was a relief to see Paul back in the office on Monday morning, looking like his normal laid-back self. His expression said Jeremy's surgery had gone well. But the lunch bag was conspicuously absent.

I followed him into his office. “I gather Jeremy's on the mend?”

“Yes, thanks. He's home now and kicking up a fuss, but he's doing fine.”

“I bet
he
doesn't think he's doing fine.”

Paul threw me a wry look before taking off his coat. “How'd you guess? He thinks he's going to die unless some minor miracle saves him.”

“So how come you left him alone at home?”

“I didn't. Old Mrs. McMillan next door offered to keep an eye on him.” Paul chuckled as he started walking toward the coffee machine. “Jeremy dislikes old Gertie McMillan because she's tough as a drill sergeant.”

“Was it a good idea to leave them together, then?”

Paul shrugged. “I might find one of them dead by the time I get home this evening.” But his sly smile said he was enjoying the thought of leaving Jeremy in the hands of some crusty old dragon.

During the next hour I filled Paul in on what had happened at my meetings in Washington. He seemed pleased with the progress. I promised I'd write up a report for him later and show him all the literature I'd brought with me.

It wasn't a big surprise that Ajit called that night, asking if we could meet again the following Saturday. His expression when we'd parted had made it clear he'd be calling soon.

I had nothing else planned, so I agreed. For our second date, Ajit decided to drive down to New Jersey so we could go to Atlantic City, in which case it was inevitable that he'd meet my parents. I wasn't particularly happy about the idea, but in our culture the parents got involved on some level rather early in the process, so I decided to go along with the idea.

Later, when I told Mom that Ajit and I were meeting for the second time, she looked delighted enough to put her cooking on hold. Apparently this was more important than getting dinner on the table. “So you guys hit it off right away?”

“I wouldn't call it hitting it off, but he seems like a nice guy.”

“Yes, butâ”

“Mom,” I interrupted her. “Don't go buying wedding saris or
vajra kuttuk
.” Diamond cluster earringsâtypically given to a Konkani bride by her parents. “We're just meeting as friends.”

Mom's smile didn't falter. “Okay, but can I at least tell Madhuri?”

“No. Madhuri-pachi is going to call Ajit's mother, and they're both going to start picking out wedding invitations. I don't want that. It stresses me out.”

With a resigned sigh Mom went back to the stove. Watching her look so disappointed, I placed a hand on her arm. “Hey, if anything promising develops, you'll be the first to know. Right now we're just getting to know each other.”

Without warning she turned and kissed me on the forehead. Mom wasn't the hugging and kissing type. The gesture left me staring at her.

It was 10:15 A.M., Saturday. I was dressed and ready for Ajit to arrive, while Mom made brunch and Dad pretended to watch television in the family room. We were all a bit on edge, for different reasons.

“Have fun in AC, dear,” Mom said, giving me an encouraging look. “You need any cash?”

“I have enough, thanks.” Even though I had a job now, once in a while Mom and Dad still asked if I needed money. “I've set a gambling limit of fifty dollars for myself.”

“Good idea. It's easy to go bankrupt in those casinos.” Mom gave a vigorous stir to the pot of mixed vegetable
sookke,
a curry made with chopped potatoes and a variety of vegetables, cooked with a hot and spicy coconut-based sauce. The steam that arose from the pot smelled wonderful.

I went into the powder room and checked myself in the mirror. My makeup and hair looked fine. I had on simple black slacks and a red turtleneck sweater. I felt no excitement about the trip to AC. My parents seemed way more excited than I was.

This was my second date with a nice guy, a decent-looking and successful man who I happened to like a lot. And he seemed to like me, too. So why wasn't there a tingling in my bloodstream?

Hearing a car outside, I went to the family room window to take a peek. Dad gave me a curious look. Noticing Ajit's black Jaguar coming to a stop outside, I turned around and announced, “He's here.”

Dad got to his feet and smoothed his jeans and sweater. Mom took off her apron and patted her hair in place. Boy, this was scaryâboth my parents behaving like they were about to meet a celebrity. I prayed they wouldn't get too friendly. I didn't want Ajit to get the wrong impression.

“Hope I'm not late,” he said with a sunny smile when I opened the door and invited him in. He wore gray Dockers and the same leather jacket he'd been wearing the previous weekend. The chilly breeze brought in a whiff of his cologne. It smelled pleasantly masculine.

“Not at all,” I assured him and shut the door. “Come meet my parents.”

After I made the introductions and everyone had shaken hands, Mom escorted him to the family room. “Would you like to have some brunch before you guys leave, Ajit?” she asked him. Dad smiled widely, seconding her invitation.

Uh-oh, they were treating him like a privileged son-in-law already.

Perhaps a little flustered by the attention from my parents, Ajit raised his brow at me. “Do we have time for it?”

I shook my head. “It's a long ride to AC. Why don't we grab lunch there?”

Mom flashed her most charming smile. “Ajit, do you like mixed vegetable
sookke?
We're having that and fresh
chap-patis,
” she said, referring to the thinly rolled whole-wheat flatbread that's typical of our cuisine.

“So that's what smells so good,” said Ajit. “I love
sookke
... but ...” He glanced at me again.

I got the feeling he was hungry after his long drive from Connecticut, and Mom's
sookke
was generally a big hit with most guests. I gave in. “All right.”

Without a moment's hesitation Mom swept into the kitchen to set the table. Dad marched right behind her, supposedly to help, making me chuckle inwardly. Dad helping in the kitchen was a rarity in our home. He was clearly trying to give Ajit and me some privacy. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion Mom had planned on inviting Ajit to brunch all along. She'd cooked an awful lot of food.

Ajit slipped off his jacket, and I noticed he had on a tan pullover sweater. The combination of sweater and Dockers looked rather nice and preppy. But he wasn't a refined dresser like Prajay. “Hope I didn't ruin your plans by agreeing to eat here,” he whispered.

“No. You'll make my mom's day. You know how moms are.”

“Sure.” He sniffed appreciatively. “It smells great.”

Brunch went off beautifully, with Mom at her most attentive and Dad at his most talkative. As I'd expected, Ajit had an appetite, so he ate loads of Mom's food, pleasing her immensely. He even gave Dad some useful tips on investing.

When we finally got into Ajit's car and pulled out of the driveway, I noticed Mom and Dad waving at us with smug looks on their faces. I settled back in the passenger seat, praying Mom wouldn't run to the phone and tell Madhuri-pachi to start planning a bridal shower.

But I had to admit the trip to Atlantic City was pleasant. It was warmer than the previous Saturday, and the highways were not too crowded. We drove directly to Caesars Casino because I was familiar with it. I lost my fifty bucks within the first half hour at the slot machines, but I found Ajit was a savvy blackjack player, and he won nearly eight hundred dollars. To celebrate, we went into the bar for drinks.

“Let's take a stroll along the boardwalk before the sun goes down,” he suggested, so we buttoned up, put on our gloves, and went for a stroll on the nearly deserted boardwalk. The breeze coming off the ocean was chilly. But the leisurely walk felt good.

We spoke little, enjoying the vista of endless ocean and seagulls. Every once in a while we saw a jogger or two and a few people like us trying to get some fresh air. We walked about a mile and then returned to Caesars.

We scanned the menu posted on an easel outside the restaurant just inside the lobby, with its domed ceiling made to look like a Mediterranean night sky, complete with twinkling stars and faux moonlight. We decided to eat right there and save ourselves the bother of finding another restaurant.

All through the meal, Ajit told me funny anecdotes about his college days and his colleagues at his present job, making me realize that Ajit did indeed have a great sense of humor. He kept me entertained and made me laugh several times.

It was late by the time we finished eating, so we decided to go home instead of back to the casino. Ajit had a long drive back to Connecticut.

When we got on to the expressway, Ajit took his hand off the wheel and reached for mine. “You're awfully quiet. Is everything all right?”

“I'm just tired. I'm not much into exercise, so the long walk did it for me.” I was very aware of his warm, hard hand curled around mine, but I didn't feel the same flutter I'd experienced when Prajay had touched me. I sincerely wished I could feel something, especially since Ajit was trying so hard to be pleasant.

About an hour into our drive I asked Ajit if we could go to a rest stop. We used the restrooms and picked up some coffee at the Starbucks inside the building. Once inside the car, Ajit turned on the ignition but didn't pull out of the parking spot right away.

I had this odd feeling that things between us were changing. I could sense something coming. Call it feminine intuition.

Ajit turned to me and touched my cheek. “I enjoyed the day. You're great to hang out with, Meena.” His eyes were warm, and his voice sounded just a bit husky. Or was I imagining it?

“Thanks. You're not so bad yourself,” I said. And I meant it. He was a very likeable guy.

“So you want to meet up with me next weekend?” His hand stayed on my face.

“Can't. Next weekend is our company's holiday party.”

He removed his hand. “Maybe the weekend after?”

“Maybe.” I wondered if it was too early in our relationship to invite him to our office party. All the employees had been encouraged to bring a guest. All the married people were bringing their spouses, and many others were bringing a significant other. I decided to ask him anyway. “Would you like to come to the party with me?”

His expression brightened. “I'd like that. But wouldn't I be crashing the party?”

“Uh-uh. They encourage everyone to bring a date ... or whomever.”

“Sounds like fun.”

I took a sip of my coffee, wondering if I'd started something I shouldn't have. “Should I RSVP for two, then?”

“Sure. Thanks.” That warm look flashed in his eyes again.

Akka's words of caution were beginning to beat a rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat in my brain. Nonetheless, we drove the rest of the way companionably, chatting. Not surprisingly, we found we knew a few people in common.

By the time he walked me to my door, I realized I was dead tired and ready for bed, so I didn't bother inviting him inside. This time when he bid me good-bye, he didn't shake hands; he kissed me on the cheek. It was a friendly kiss, nothing more. “Good night. I'll see you next week.”

“I'll let you know the time and dress code for the party.” I let myself in and deactivated the alarm, then waited while Ajit pulled out of the driveway before closing the door.

Taking a peek in the garage, I noticed Dad's car was missing. It meant Mom and Dad weren't home. I was grateful. I didn't want to see the look of optimism on their faces ... not yet. Although I'd had a good time, I wasn't sure what I felt for Ajit Baliga.

The bad thing was my feelings for Prajay were still the same. If anything, they seemed more enhanced now, more painful. It was this deep pit inside my chest, which felt so empty and dark, it had no chance of ever brightening up.

Pinky reminded me about the holiday party first thing Monday morning. “What are you wearing for the party on Saturday?”

“What does everyone else usually wear? Formal, semi-formal?”

“Most of the women wear either
salwar-kameez,
or
chania-choli,
or dresses. The men wear what they always wear around here: slacks and casual shirts.”

“Is the party a lot of fun or is it the usual forced office humor and lots of booze?”

“The party's always fantastic. Nishant and Prajay are big spenders.”

BOOK: The Reluctant Matchmaker

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