“Are you all right?” Ethan steadied Puppa as he staggered back.
From the corner of her eye, Priya caught Mumma enter the living room. She froze at the sight of their unexpected guest before quickly retreating into the hallway.
“Please come inside,” Puppa offered, wiping his brow; he was sweating like he’d just jogged up three flights of stairs. “You, too, Brooke. Have a seat.”
As Brooke and Ethan settled on the couch, Puppa gave Priya a look so sour it could curdle milk, silently scolding her for not giving him a heads-up about their famous guest. But then, attempting to regain his composure, he sat and smiled, first at Brooke, then at Ethan, fingers tapping nervously on his knees.
“Seema,” he called with forced cheeriness. “Look who is here.” Beneath the calm facade, he was sending silent SOS signals to his wife.
Mumma did not reply.
A moment later, Priya’s phone buzzed with a text from her mother.
You brought Ethan Knight upstairs?? We can’t host him here! Take him and Brooke to the lobby.
They’re already here, Priya texted back. I can’t take them back down.She shot Ethan an apologetic smile, embarrassment crawlingbeneath her skin. Of course this would happen. Awkwardness and drama, right on cue.
His reaction only made it worse. A faint smile tugged at his lips, like he’d seen it all before—people stumbling over themselves in his presence.
“Priya,” Mumma called sweetly, her voice wafting from the hallway.
Priya excused herself and knocked on the bathroom door.
“I am not greeting Ethan Knight in my nightgown,” Mumma hissed through the crack.
“It’s not as if I’m dressed any better,” Priya muttered. Even her travel-worn clothes would have been better than the grungy outfit she had on. “At least you can change before you greet him.”
“I can’t,” Mumma said. “He can see me from where he’s sitting!”
Suppressing a sigh, Priya marched to Mumma’s closet. She rummaged through her clothes and picked out a green salwar khameez. Heading back to the bathroom, she slid the outfit into her mother’s waiting grasp.
“Not so fast.” Mumma grabbed her wrist and listed her demands. “I need lipstick. Thelaalone. And my gold bangles. And earrings. And perfume.”
Priya collected the items, including the red lipstick, from her mother’s dresser and then slipped them through the door before returning to the living room.
“Priya, beta,” Mumma cooed from the bathroom as soon as Priya sat next to Brooke on the love seat.
“Sorry,” Priya mouthed to Brooke and Ethan before rising and marching back to her mother.
“My bra,” Mumma said in a low voice.
“Mumma…” Priya’s voice tightened, but she went back to her parents’ room and riffled through her mother’s underweardrawer. Bypassing the collection of vintage twin-peaks bras, she picked the least ferocious option. Mumma’s bra could house a brood of sparrows, so Priya rolled it tight before passing it to her through the crack in the door.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Tu ja,” Mumma retorted. “Maru mathu nai kha.” Go away. Don’t eat my head.
“Everything all right?” Brooke asked when Priya returned.
“Mumma forgot her towel. She’ll be right out,” Priya replied, earning an appreciative glance from Puppa. Lying was dishonorable, but lying to save your family’s honor was wholeheartedly approved.
A moment later, Mumma swept into the room in a scented cloud of jasmine and rosewater.
“Brooke, beta.” She strode over to Brooke, arms wide and welcoming. As she released Brooke from her tight hug, her eyes fell on Ethan, and she mustered a look of surprise that would give veteran soap opera stars a run for their money.
“Heavens! Ethan Knight. In our home?” She turned to Puppa, as if to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. “Please forgive me. I’m so starstruck!”
Priya stifled a snort. That part was one hundred percent genuine.
