“Ha! Even if you spent more time at work, single, attractive, intelligent, kind millionaires are rarer than Renaissance Old Masters.”
“I’ll take a Newer Renaissance Master at this point. I’m not picky.”
“We know,” Priya and I say in unison.
“But Sonia isn’t even going to appreciate her good luck in meeting a hot man at work, because that would be too manyfeelings,” Priya says.
“Why go through all the unnecessary hassle of liking someone and then having to face the inevitable disappointment that will follow?” I ask.
My cousins look at each other, communicating in their secret twin language, before looking at me with looks of judgement so similar it’s scary. I ignore them and keep walking to the station to get the train.
It’s not that I don’t think fairy-tale love exists, per se. It’s just that people leave more often than they stay, so why bother getting invested in relationships when the odds are...not in my favor?
Better to have fun and not worry about having a perfect forever. Which is a long time to think about anyway.
The door to my office opens and I frantically start typing. I glance at the screen before raising my eyes to see who caught me daydreaming. About Beau.
From what I saw before looking away, I hope Priya can make sense of “ajhfasldhf iuh asdhf isaufh ;sdhj a;ksfh” because that’s what’s going in the catalog if I forget to fix it before sending it in.
Just another sign that Beau is too distracting to be around for too long. He needs to go back where he’s from quickly so I can go back to my happy, not emotionally demanding life of selling beautiful things to people who have bank balances higher than I can count (math was never my strong suit).
“Dad wants to see you,” Priya says as she sticks her head into my office.
“Me? Why?” No other words could cause quite this much fear into my heart. Being around super-focused Priya is one thing, but I grew up with her. Which means I’ve seen her throw a tantrum because Chachi wouldn’t let her live at the office. At eight years old.
But my uncle has always been an untouchable, mythic figure. A conquering hero making deals and selling art that no one could touch. And with a dedication that is terrifying to someone who still doesn’t know what she wants to be when she grows up.
“I don’t know. But I want you to report back because I’m dying of curiosity.”
Yeah, because Chacha almost never asks to talk to me alone. “Well, I better get going.” I pick up a notebook and my phone, wanting to get this over with.
Heart pounding the entire walk over, I pause at his door to take a breath. Then I knock.
“Come in.” A lightly accented voice drifts to the closed door.
“Hi, Chacha. You wanted to see me?” I come in and sit in front of his desk.
“Yes, Sonia.” He smiles warmly, and I relax a little. However imposing he is, he’s also my substitute father figure. A bit absent since most of his time was spent at the office, but always ready with firm opinions and a dedication to solve any problem when I needed him. And even when I didn’t think I needed him.
“I want to talk to you about a promotion.”
My relaxed posture straightens again. I don’t like where this is going. “I don’t need a promotion.”
Kabir scoffs. “You’re a Gupta. And you work just as hard as Priya and Ajay. You deserve to have your own department too.”
I don’t know how to tell Kabir, or anyone else in this overachieving family, that I don’t want it. I don’t want how much work that would bring, meaning it would take too much time from the things I like to do, or the responsibility. So many people relying on me, so many people I could disappoint. That’s too much commitment for me.
Kabir continues, “There’s an opening coming up, in furniture. The head of that department is retiring. You’re my first choice.”
“I don’t know...” I can’t articulate my thoughts to Chacha. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. Let me know by the Christmas sale when you want to start.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes at him. No one in this family hears what they don’t want to hear.
But at least I have till Christmas to figure out how to disappoint him.
At four fifty-five p.m., I shut down my computer, stand up from my desk and smooth my dress down. Even I have to admit that the dress is about 50 percent tighter and 25 percent lower cut than my usual work wear. Which everyone has noticed.
