Hey,Alex typed. Where are you going? Next ferry is in an hour.
I looked back at the ferry gliding over the horizon. Alex was probably still tracking the horse’s lights across the harbor.
I laughed. “Guys. That wasn’t the last ferry out of here.”
“I love this part,” said Fia. “You know…” She held out her hands like she was unrolling a banner. “But wait, there’s more.”
I grinned as everyone paused, their eyes on me. It wasn’t just me reaching out for something bright and shiny. It was all of us, grabbing on to the skirt tails of life.
“Go get him, Moti.” I didn’t know who said it first, but then everyone was cheering me on as I ran toward the ticket office, the wheels of my suitcase hitting every bump and ridge along the way. The empty box still tied to the corner of myduppattabounced against my leg as I raced up the window.
“One ticket,” I said. “To whereverthatferry is going.”
My phone pinged with another message from Alex.
You’re still going the wrong way.
You’re still following the horse I hijacked? I’m at the ticket office.
That’s my girl. You just saved me from hijacking this ferry.
I grinned and accepted my ticket. It felt like the beginning of a new adventure.
In the distance, the colorful caravan of the wedding party wound its way back to the hotel. On the horizon, little lights shimmered over the water.
Alex,I typed, filled with a warm glow.
I’m listening…
I found a bench and sat, smiling at the screen, knowing he was doing the same.
The notebook had a battered black hardcover and a red spine. Its original stitching barely held the dry, brittle pages together.
“I found it buried at the bottom of my mother’s trunk,” the woman sitting across from me said. “It’s been a few years since she passed away, but I still get the occasional call from her clients. Mãikept notes on all her readings, but no one’s ever asked to see them.” Her bright, blackbird eyes shone with excitement. “When yournaanisaid you were coming all the way from America, I searched everywhere for them.”
“I can’t believe I’m holding Ma Anga’s notebook in my hands,” I said.
“I knew I had to meet you the moment your grandmother told me your name. Your mother must have been Mãi’s biggest fan.”
“Dolly certainly took Ma Anga’s advice to heart.” I paused as the waiter placed small round pieces of bread, wrapped in newspaper, on our table.
“From the gentleman there.” He gestured toward the serving hatch separating the kitchen from the rest of the tea shack. Alex grinned back at me, his face peeping through the opening with an expression of pure delight.
“It’s crusty on the outside and fluffy on the inside,” he called. “You have to dip it in your tea. Go on.” He made a dunking gesture. “So good.”
“Don’t mind him, Shilpa,” I said. “He’s like this whenever we’re on a vacation. Every restaurant we go to, he ends up poking around in the kitchen.”
“Well, he’s right.” Shilpa laughed and picked up her bread. “It’s made for soaking up sweet, hot tea.” She held one hand under her chin as she bit into it. “Would you like me to translate the entries in the book? They’re in Konkani.”
“That would be great.”
Shilpa wiped her hands and searched the ink-speckled pages. “Ah, here we are. Dolly. You want me to start at the beginning?”
“Just the phone call Dolly made from Chicago after I was born, when she asked Ma Anga to interpret my natal chart.”
Shilpa scrolled down the page before moving on to the next one.
“Hm.” She frowned, a few pages later. “It’s the last entry for Dolly, but…” She pulled out a faded envelope stored between the pages and continued reading. “It says Mãicanceled the session. Her dog died and she was too distraught to give a reading.”
