Kamila was still annoyed at Rohan, but after sitting down to eat, she reluctantly admitted to herself that his shakshuka was very good.
“This is tasty, right, Dad?” Kamila asked. “Healthy breakfasts can be satisfying, too.”
“Especially when they’re not burnt,” Rohan added. Unnecessarily.
Dad scooped some tomatoes and egg with his bread. “I could eat like this every day.”
“Good. Because you might have to.” She arched an eyebrow at Dad. “Are you ready to tell us your test results now?”
Dad sighed and put down his toast. “I didn’t want to worry you, beti. You had your party yesterday.”
“Blood sugar was high. What else?” she asked.
Dad sighed. “Cholesterol. And blood pressure, but you knew that. And apparently, my heart is stressed. According to my EKG.”
Kamila dropped her fork. “Dad! You didn’t even tell me you had an EKG! Did you talk to Dr. Anchali? What did she say?”
“She says it’s not too bad…I don’t have to worry. Yet.”
Kamila shook her head. “When does she expect us to worry, then? When you’re dead?” She couldn’t believe he’d kept this from her.
Dad blinked.
Great. Now she was upsetting him. Right after he’d told her that his heart was stressed. Kamila rubbed her temple. She was really bad at this.
Rohan put his hand on her arm. “What did the doctor advise?” he asked.
Dad glanced to the window before looking back at them, resigned. “Same thing everyone advises. Lower my stress. But I can’t stop working. I tried before. I can’t bear it.” Kamila could see the despair sneaking into his eyes.
Kamila watched him closely. He was right. It hadn’t been good the last time Dad didn’t work. After his first major mental health episode not long after Mom died, everyone told him to rest. Take time off. To not worry about HNS, that they had it covered. But resting didn’t work for Dad. He only sank deeper into his depression. He wasn’t the kind of man who could be idle. He needed to feel useful to feel valued. But going back to HNS wasn’t good for him back then, either. It had already grown huge by that point, and it wasn’t the small, quiet tax office Dad preferred.
So, Rohan’s father had helped Dad open Emerald as a subsidiary of HNS. A small tax office, like what Hussain, Nasser, and Suleiman had been when it first opened. Dad called it Emerald, after Mom’s birthstone. And he thrived there. When Kamila got her CPA, she first joined HNS, but when that didn’t work out, she came to Emerald, too.
Kamila gave Dad a sympathetic look. “Dad, you don’t have to retire completely. Try part-time for now. I can take some of your clients.”
He shook his head. “You can’t, Kamila. My clients aren’t like the salons you work with.”
“That’s ridiculous, Dad. My clients’ businesses aren’t easier because they’re not white-collar professionals, or doctors, or whatever. That’s sexist. You don’t agree with that, Rohan, do you?”
Rohan frowned. “Well, I don’t think that type of business necessarily makes it easier or harder, but your clients are smaller than your father’s. And…younger.”
“You don’t think I can work with older people? That’s ageism.”
Dad patted her arm. “But seriously, beti. I know you like to be casual with your clients. And you’re so…stylish. That’s fine for them, but my clients are old-fashioned. Do you think Dr. Johansson will want you coming in with your big dresses and that dog purse?”
Kamila didn’t even bring Darcy in her designer dog carrier to client meetings. Anymore, at least. Kamila wrinkled her nose. Dad might be right, though—Dr. Johansson was an octogenarian gastroenterologist who owned a few colonoscopy clinics in the city. He would not trust an accountant in bold florals or red lipstick. Heck, she didn’t think he’d trust an accountant with breasts. Despite him being quite fond of staring at Kamila’s whenever she saw him.
“I know you say you’re happier when working,” Kamila said. “But your therapist said you need balance. Why don’t you try it…for a month, at least? Let me take some of your clients and you can reduce your hours as a trial run.”
“And HNS can take a couple, too. Then you’ll have a part-time workload,” Rohan said.
“But, Kamila, you have your own clients. And, you said you wanted to volunteer for Anil Malek, too.”
“Leave that to me. I can handle it. And actually, this Anil guy—why don’t you also give me his actual accounting work? I can do all the nonprofit start-up paperwork.”
Rohan shook his head. “I don’t know, Kamila. Volunteering with them for fundraising is one thing, but also acting as their financial consultant? The nonprofit world is quite traditional, and Anil is very…corporate. I think HNS would be a better fit for their needs. It’s going to be a complicated case. I’ll speak to him.”
Kamila balled her fists. “Do you two seriously have no faith in me? I can be corporate fancy if I need to be! All I need is a pantsuit! And don’t give me this hogwaddle that I can’t handle a complicated case. Give me a month with this stuffy suit Anil Malek, and I guarantee he’ll put Emerald on retainer for all their financial needs.”
