The Sari Shop Widow (17 page)

“Not at all,” he replied. “Staying under the same roof doesn’t extend her the right to share in my assets or certain…private areas of my life. I’ve given up on marriage.”

“Looking at it from that cynical viewpoint, I consider myself lucky. Vik was the best. He adored me. I don’t think I’ll ever find another man like him.”

“Is that why you’re involved with Rowling…because you can’t find another marriageable chap like Vikram Gandhi?”

She stiffened at his question. The camaraderie of the past hour was gone in an instant. God, he wouldn’t rest until he found out more about Kip. He’d probably figured out the nature of her relationship with Kip anyway.

And honestly, she didn’t have an answer to his question, even for herself. She still didn’t know exactly why she was involved with Kip. It was one of those things that didn’t have any underlying logic. Impulsiveness and the deep physical need to feel a warm male body against hers were the only reasons she could think of, because all she derived from it on an emotional level was a sense of shame and mild regret.

Rishi’s eyes had taken on the familiar laser look. But she wasn’t ready to discuss Kip with him. It was too personal. “Good night, Rishi,” she said quietly and headed for the staircase.

All the way up the stairs she could feel those laser-beam eyes following her.

Chapter 14

J
erry Falcone, the architect-contractor from New York, showed up a couple of days later. Middle-aged, with a shaved head, a lean, well-maintained body, and a distinctive laugh, he was friendly and easy to work with.

He seemed to know Rishi well. “Hey, Rishi Shah, how are you? Long time no see,” he said, pumping Rishi’s hand with the ease of a man who knew exactly whom he was dealing with. “How’s London, buddy? Good to see you doing business in the U.S. of A. for a change.”

After the greetings and small talk were over, Rishi made the introductions. “Jerry and I met in London a couple of times on other projects,” he explained to the rest of them.

Anjali and her mother spent most of the morning with the men, discussing ideas for refurbishing Tejmal’s store. After conferring over the preliminaries, the two women left the men to deal with Jerry Falcone and the technical aspects like building codes, insulation, roofing shingles, and load-bearing walls and beams. Besides, the daily business of taking care of regular customers was still very much the women’s job.

Since summer was a popular time for weddings, there were some customers who stopped in for clothes and matching jewelry. But the sales weren’t as vigorous as in previous years, and Anjali found it depressing.

Falcone stayed until the end of the day. By early evening it seemed everything had been worked out to their satisfaction. When Anjali heard the estimated cost of the renovations, her eyes went round with dismay. “That’s a king’s ransom!”

Rishi merely shrugged. “That’s what a major restoration costs these days. When was the last time this store was redone?”

“Over nine years ago, when I first joined my parents in the business and we went from a sari shop to a boutique.”

“In nine years things have changed and become twice as costly.” He shook his head at Anjali. “Don’t worry about the expenses. Jeevan-kaka and I will take care of that end.”

That was the problem. The more those two invested in her business, the more uncomfortable she became. But it wasn’t like she had any other choices at the moment.

The preliminary cleanup started in earnest on Tejmal’s store the very next day. Rishi, Mohan, and Anjali began the cleaning process while Usha and Sejal were left in charge of the business. Jeevan-kaka was told to sit in the boutique’s office and help with the paperwork since he was in no shape to handle manual labor.

Although Tejmal had succeeded in selling all his inventory to another wholesaler in town, there were empty crates, shelves, old, yellowed paperwork, tattered plastic bags, and a whole lot of spilled grains and debris littering the store.

Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts, they arrived early to tackle the job. Seeing Rishi dressed in casual denim instead of his usual business attire was a pleasant surprise. He looked wonderful. She’d have to be blind not to notice what those snug jeans did for his body. The dark blue of his T-shirt also made his eyes look blue-gray, like the Atlantic on a sultry summer afternoon.

When they reached the storage room in the back, they came to an abrupt stop. “Good God, the old man left this place filthy!” Rishi stood with his hands on his hips and grimaced. “I’d hoped he’d have the decency to leave the building in better condition than this.”

“Didn’t he promise to clean out the premises before we took over?” Anjali sniffed the moldy odor combined with something that smelled like rotting onions.

“I suppose this is his idea of cleaning,” said her father. “He sold his entire inventory and that’s obviously all he cared about.”

“It’s too late to complain. Get ready for some hard work,” said Rishi with a resigned look.

Anjali bent down to pick up an old mousetrap covered with lint and dangled it over one finger. “Look what we have here.”

Mohan shook his head. “Let’s be grateful there’s no dead mouse in it. But maybe there are roaches?”

“Eww!” Anjali looked at both men in turn. “We better get this place professionally fumigated before we expand. I’m positively not going to display my merchandise in this dump.”

Rishi placed a giant pack of trash bags on the counter and pulled on a pair of latex gloves taken from the box he’d purchased earlier. “Okay, folks, put on a pair of gloves and let’s get to work. Meanwhile,” he said, looking at Mohan, “Uncle, why don’t you have Auntie arrange for an exterminator to treat the place immediately?”

“Okay.” Looking relieved, Mohan hastened out the back door to carry out Rishi’s instructions.

Anjali had a sneaking suspicion her father was going to take his time returning. He disliked housework, and cleaning was something he never did. In fact, she was surprised to see the immaculate Rishi getting ready to apply some old-fashioned elbow grease to the task. She doubted if he’d ever handled a broom in his life. As if he’d read her mind, he picked up a broom and started to sweep the floor.

It turned into a long, hot day of hard manual labor. Despite the air-conditioning running on high, it was a sweaty job. By early afternoon, Rishi had hauled out something like eleven jumbo-sized bags of trash, assorted crates, broken shelves, and boxes to the Dumpster behind the building.

By late evening, they had the place pretty much cleaned out and it was possible to take a breath without inhaling dust and going into a sneezing fit. They placed a few fresh mousetraps, just in case. The place smelled a lot cleaner, too, after Anjali finished mopping the linoleum floors with an industrial-strength disinfectant cleaner.

Mohan soon left to go next door to take care of the day’s receipts, leaving Rishi and Anjali to handle the rest.

When Anjali finally put down the mop and Rishi was ready to haul the bucket of dirty water out to dump it, he turned to her with a concerned look. “Go home, Anjali. You look beat. You’ve been working nearly nonstop since dawn.” He tucked a stray lock of her hair back into her ponytail. The gesture was so unexpected and sweet, it upset Anjali’s balance a little and he grabbed her arm to steady her. “You
are
tired.”

“So are you, I’m sure. Thank you for everything, Rishi.”

“No need for thanks. We’re partners, remember?”

“I know.” He had worked like a demon. Being the largest and strongest of the three of them, he’d automatically taken on the heavier load. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen yet—a more down-to-earth and likeable side. She’d only been exposed to the polished Londoner. “This must be quite an experience for you,” she said. “I bet you have cleaning crews for such things.”

He looked amused. “I’ve done more than my share of hard labor. I wasn’t always a businessman.”

“So what were you before you became a millionaire?”

He tapped her nose with a fingertip in a playful gesture. “One of these days, I’ll tell you all about it, Miss Kapadia.”

“Never mind, if you have to be that mysterious about it.”

“Let’s call it a day and go home, shall we?” He carried the bucket out to the back and returned a minute later. Perspiration stains darkened his T-shirt in patches. His jeans looked dirty and a dark evening shadow was clearly visible on his face. She was almost tempted to run her hand through his hair and muss it a little, make him look dangerous.

But she didn’t. Instead she agreed with him. “Sounds like a brilliant idea. I’m dying for a shower and a decent meal.”

“Come on, then.” He reached for her hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand as he switched off the lights and engaged the burglar alarm. Together they went next door to tell the others that they were heading home in Rishi’s car.

That night, Anjali slept like the dead. She was too exhausted and achy for bad dreams or insomnia.

Jerry Falcone’s men arrived in a pickup truck the next day with ladders and some fearsome-looking construction tools. Fortunately, the wall between the two stores would be the last to be torn down, so Silk & Sapphires could continue to operate normally until the very last phase. And when the wall finally came down, there would be heavy-duty plastic curtains installed to keep as much of the dust out as possible.

The next few weeks went so fast they seemed to be a blur. Each day, several times a day, Anjali made it a point to stop by next door and check on the workmen’s progress. Rishi and her uncle were always there, making sure things were moving smoothly.

Although there was pleasure in seeing the transformation come about, and a certain amount of excitement, there was also that old fear. What if the whole venture crumbled like a sandcastle? God, this time they’d really be in bankruptcy court. The thought still kept her awake at nights sometimes.

But the days were usually so busy she had no time to worry too much. Besides her regular duties at the store, there were fixtures to be ordered, fabrics, paints, carpeting, curtains, and mannequins to discuss and design and order. Despite the crazy hours they all kept, Rishi managed to put in an hour of exercise at the gym each morning. Another thing Anjali couldn’t help but admire: his diligence.

In the midst of all that work, Rishi suddenly had to return home to London—something about an emergency at one of his stores. Anjali resented his leaving in the middle of the project. She’d come to depend on him, become used to seeing him each morning, working beside him.

But then she had to remind herself that he had other responsibilities. This was only a very minor part of his business. She couldn’t expect him to drop everything else and give his undivided attention to Silk & Sapphires.

And wasn’t it only the other day that she’d wanted him out of New Jersey and out of her life? She should have been glad to see him leave instead of grumbling about his absence. As it was, he had stayed with Silk & Sapphires for several weeks and taken care of all the most important aspects of the expansion. He’d done more than his share of work.

Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she missed him. Although he’d moved into a hotel sometime ago, he was still a large part of their lives.

It was that first evening after he left when the rest of them sat down to dinner, that Anjali realized exactly how large a role he had assumed in their lives. The conversation at the table was on the quiet side. It was clear there was a missing ingredient.

Nilesh, in his boyish but practical way, put it succinctly: “It’s kind of strange without Rishi, isn’t it? It’s not much fun around here.”

It was Nilesh’s remark that made Anjali realize her young, impressionable brother’s attitude toward Rishi bordered on hero worship. Why hadn’t she seen that evolving over the past few weeks? Practically every night the two of them discussed sports, debated over the latest in computer software and all sorts of topics that men seemed to enjoy. They also spent a lot of time on Nilesh’s computer, doing God knows what.

And cousin Sejal seemed smitten with Rishi. He walked on water as far as her little cousin was concerned. It seemed like Rishi had them all wrapped around his efficient finger. Unknowingly they had all come to accept him as family.

Jeevan-kaka looked downright lost as he ate his dinner. “Yes,
beta
,” he said in response to Nilesh’s remark. “We all miss Rishi. He is such a nice fellow.”

Mohan agreed with his brother. “A very clever and successful businessman at such a young age. Very admirable.”

What was surprising was to see her mother looking a bit glum, too. “It’s a shame that such a pleasant young man is not married.”

Jeevan gave a sad shake of his head. “Since his engagement broke many years ago, he is not willing to get married at all. I have introduced him to some eligible girls, but he’s not interested. He says his life is too busy.”

“Too busy for marriage?” asked Usha.

In Usha’s old-fashioned way of thinking, marriage and family had to be a part of one’s life, no matter how busy. How many times had she told Anjali that it was time for her to forget Vik and her hang-ups about marriage and settle down with a good man?

But Anjali could easily relate to Rishi’s ideas about freedom. After a while, life just sort of fell into a routine, even if it was more like a rut than a routine, and one became comfortable with it. The older one got, the more difficult it was to make drastic changes. In her late thirties if she felt old and set in her ways, she could only imagine how he felt in his forties. And Samantha was obviously fulfilling his other needs. So why bother tying himself down with marriage?

Then her mother said something that brought her attention back to the conversation, something she herself had been curious to find out. “So, Jeevan-bhai, how did you come to know Rishi?” All these days, since Rishi was always with them, it was a question that couldn’t be asked, but obviously her mother was taking advantage of his absence tonight.