In the living room, her father, Jeevan-kaka, and Shah were deep in conversation about the store. Her eyes went to Rishi Shah. He was explaining something to the two men. He was very articulate. Where was he educated? England? Some upscale English school in India?
Jeevan-kaka lifted his cup and sniffed suspiciously. Then after a single cautious sip he closed his eyes tight and grimaced. “Uh-oh! Usha, did you put sugar in this? I am a diabetic now. I cannot take sugar.”
“I’m sorry, Jeevan-bhai,” murmured Usha. “I had no idea you were diabetic. Should I make another cup without sugar?”
Jeevan shook his head. “I will finish this, but next time, remember, no sugar in anything.”
Anjali stared wide-eyed at her uncle. This was unexpected. The old Jeevan would have had a minor fit if he was given something that didn’t meet his stringent requirements. Her mother, too, was looking strangely at him. The man had changed. Maybe her dad was right. Perhaps Jeevan wasn’t as rigid as he used to be. Was age catching up with him?
But in the next moment the supposition was tossed out. “Usha. I hope you did not put coconut in my lunch,” he said.
Usha bit her lower lip. “Oh dear, I sprinkled it over the khaman,” she said, referring to the little square steamed cakes made of ground chickpeas, green chili peppers, and ginger, and then garnished with roasted mustard seeds, grated coconut, and fresh coriander.
“Tsk-tsk,” clucked her uncle. “Coconut is giving me intestinal problems lately.”
“I’ll make sure to brush the coconut off your khaman,” assured Usha. It seemed to ease Jeevan’s concerns for the moment.
Once the drinks were finished, the talk turned purely to business. In that respect, the old Jeevan-kaka was still the same. He ate, slept, breathed, and dreamed business. He owned a cloth mill, a chain of food stores, clothing shops, a dairy farm, and his latest acquisition, a hotel in Ahmedabad.
“So, let us discuss your store problem now. What exactly is wrong?” Jeevan finished the last of his milk, then settled back in the chair with his hands clasped over his middle. He looked like a rural judge about to hear a case and hand down a verdict.
And a verdict it would be, Anjali reflected. He loved analyzing business data and diagnosing problems. Troubleshooting was his forte. She wasn’t sure how the other, younger guy fit into all of this. Was he going to bulldoze into their store like her uncle surely would, and dictate to them?
She turned her attention to the conversation. Her father explained the situation in great detail to the two men.
Jeevan-kaka gestured toward Shah. “Rishi is a genius in solving business problems. He has an MBA from Oxford University and he specializes in saving failing businesses. He goes to different parts of Asia and Europe for doing this type of consulting work. He knows everything.”
Mohan turned to Shah with what bordered on surprised delight. “That is impressive, Rishi. We should consider ourselves lucky to have your advice.”
“Extremely lucky,” chirped Jeevan-kaka. “For outsiders he charges big consulting fees, but for family it is free.” He looked pleased with himself.
So Rishi Shah was offering them free business advice? Why? But then, he was probably going to stay with them for a long time, so it wasn’t really free advice. They’d be giving him room and board in return. But God knew what his going rate was.
What surprised Anjali was her mother’s expression. Despite her earlier resentment, she too was smiling a bit. It was probably the word free that did it. “How did you and Jeevan-bhai hook up with each other, Mr. Shah?”
Shah cracked the first real smile of the day. His gray eyes lost their iciness and thawed somewhat. “Jeevan-kaka has known me all my life. I’m fortunate to be his partner, Mrs. Kapadia. He has taught me most everything I know.”
Mohan laughed. “Rishi, we’re quite informal around here. Don’t call us Mr. and Mrs. Kapadia. And there’s no need to address me as sir, either.”
“Uncle Mohan and Auntie Usha will do fine, if it’s okay with you,” added Usha.
Finishing the last of his soda, Shah nodded. “Uncle and Auntie, then.” He rose to his feet. “I’d like to freshen up a bit if it’s all right with you folks. Maybe we can see the store after that?” He glanced questioningly at Jeevan, and got a nod from the older man.
Anjali’s father jumped to his feet to help Shah carry the suitcases upstairs and get the two guests settled. “Jeevan-bhai, you will take the guest room and Rishi can have Nilesh’s room.”
“But I’d hate to impose, Uncle,” said Shah in a mild protest. “I’ll be happy to sleep on your settee.”
“Oh, no, beta, Nilesh can sleep in the basement,” insisted her father.
Anjali glanced at the men’s backs as they went up the stairs, then turned to her mother. “You and Dad just gave away Nilesh’s room to a stranger. Poor Nilesh is at school at the moment and doesn’t even have a chance to say anything about it.”
“That’s the Indian way, Anju. We always honor a guest in our home.” Usha brushed off Anjali’s concerns. “I’m sure Nilesh won’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Anjali bent down to pick up the empty cups. This was typical Indian hospitality and no matter what her thoughts on the subject, no one was going to pay any attention to her. Her brother would be relegated to the basement.
She washed the cups and glanced at her mother. “Mom, did you notice how the Shah guy said Jeevan-kaka’s known him all his life but he avoided saying how they became a team?”
“He’s very clever, isn’t he, like a politician? But he seems like a nice, well-mannered young man.” Usha inclined her head upward. “Let’s give the men a few minutes to get settled. Then we better get ready to take them to the store. Jeevan-bhai’s dying to see it, I’m sure.”
“You go ahead, Mom. I’ll be up in a little bit.” Anjali needed a moment to catch her breath. All of a sudden the house felt crowded. She wasn’t likely to have much solitude for some time to come.
After several minutes of brooding she headed upstairs to her room to get changed. She couldn’t wait to get out of the shapeless salwar-kameez and into a pair of slacks and a shirt. If Jeevan-kaka had a problem with her American wardrobe, so be it. And if he was going to be a long-term guest, he’d have to get used to seeing her in her usual clothes.
In the hallway outside her room, she came across Rishi Shah as he stepped out of Nilesh’s room, looking a lot less travel-weary. His wide shoulders seemed to take up the width of the hallway. “I beg your pardon, Miss Kapadia,” he murmured and stood aside to let her pass.
Anjali noticed his crisp white linen shirt and elegant dove gray trousers. His nearly black hair was neatly combed and his face looked freshly shaved. She got a whiff of his aftershave. It was masculine and pleasant.
She quickly stepped into her room and shut the door. Miss Kapadia? The last time someone had called her that, she was an undergrad. And the man who’d used that handle was an old man who wore a bow tie and tweeds.
So, how long did Rishi Shah plan to stay with them?
Chapter 4
Anjali prepared herself for the ride to the store. They piled into her father’s van, which was generally used for hauling merchandise and such to and from the store, but when they had company, it served as a passenger vehicle.
Jeevan sat in the front, next to his brother, while Anjali, her mother, and Shah got into the backseat, with her mother sandwiched between Shah and herself. Shah’s long legs looked crowded in the small space.
It was typical