“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Solanki,” Ethan replied politely.
“You remember my name.” Mumma got so giddy, she could barely contain herself. “And you know what? I remember your favorite snack. Every time I packed some for Brooke, she complained that you gobbled it all up.” She beamed at him. “Sit, sit. Please. Everybody sit and talk. I will whip it up in a flash.”
“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Ethan said, but Mumma hadalready darted off into the kitchen, leaving no room for debate. Now that she was around, Puppa was more at ease.
“You know, I have not missed a single one of your films,” he said to Ethan. “Every time we go to the movies, I tell them you grew up right next to us. I still remember you tearing down these streets on your motorcycle. That was before all the houses and shops came to the area.”
“I must’ve been a real pain,” Ethan said with a chuckle. “Enough for you to talk to my dad about it.”
“Oh, no, no,” Puppa said, flushing with embarrassment. “Nothing like that. We just had to make sure the funeral home was peaceful and quiet.”
With Ethan and Puppa fully engaged in a conversation, Brooke leaned closer to Priya and lowered her voice. “How are your parents handling things? I mean, with the divorce and all.”
Priya shrugged. “They’re not exactly thrilled, but they’ve had some time to adjust. Now they’re on me to join the family business.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ugh. Not the family business pitch.” Brooke’s lips twisted, her eyes darting to Ethan.
“Right?” Priya replied. “I’d barely come through the door before they started. But enough about me. Are you still with that guy from Istanbul?”
“I’ve moved on to Helsinki, with a healthy side of Montreal.”
“What happened to Istanbul?”
Brooke dropped her voice two octaves. “My pussy didn’t approve,” she whispered.
Priya laughed. “You mean Lady Whiskerbottom didn’t get along with him?”
“Nothing happens without Her Meowjesty’s blessing, you know.”
Mumma resurfaced from the kitchen and waved everyone to the table. “Everyone, please come. Food is ready.”
Priya’s mother had gone into a fritter frenzy. Every vegetable in the kitchen had been sliced, diced, battered, and fried. Potato bhajiyas, onion bhajiyas, spinach bhajiyas, different kinds of chutneys,sev puri, and dhokla. As the pièce de résistance, she unveiled a generous bowl of chevda, a crunchy mix of flattened rice flakes, daal, nuts and curry leaves seasoned with salt, sugar, chili powder, and other spices.
“I have to confess, Mrs. Solanki,” Brooke said with a grin, spooning chutney onto her plate next to a pile of bhajiyas. “I only became friends with Priya because her lunch game was so strong. While the rest of us were stuck with sandwiches and cafeteria food, Priya’s tiffin was a feast for the senses.”
“Not everyone was a fan,” Priya quipped dryly. She hated carrying her three-tiered stainless steel lunch container to school and wished for lunch money instead, so she could escape the teasing about the overpowering smells from her tiffin.
“Not everyone had a sophisticated international palate like me,” Brooke teased.
“Hey, I’ve always been up for trying new flavors,” Ethan said.
“We know all about your diverse tastes,” Priya chimed in, a faint smile masking the sting behind her words. She’d never been a dish he cared to sample. “The gossip columns keep us well informed.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Glad to know you’re keeping tabs on me, Priya.”
Priya immediately wished she could rewind and say something else—anythingelse. “Everybody here stalks you,” she blurted out instead. “You’re this area’s claim to fame. A homegrown superstar. My sister Deepa has a shrine dedicated to you.” A celebritycollage, actually, but he didn’t need to know the details. “We light adiyaand doaartifor you every morning.” She smirked as she sat down at the table.
“Priya.” Puppa gave her a withering look. “Mr. Ethan, please have a seat.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the table. “Have, have.”
“Mrs. Solanki, your fritters might just be my greatest weakness,” Ethan declared, stacking his plate high.
Mumma blushed fiercely, her cheeks turning a deep pink. “How is Harry?” she asked.
“Dad’s doing well,” Brooke replied, taking a bit of a dhokla.
“He must be thinking of retiring soon,” Puppa remarked.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Brooke said.
